.

.

To foe of His – I'm deadly foe –

None stir the second time –

On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –

Or an emphatic Thumb –

Though I than He– may longer live

He longer must – than I –

For I have but the power to kill,

Without – the power to die –

–Emily Dickinson, "My Life had stood –a Loaded Gun"

(:)(A)(:)

To the Flame

Chapter #17: La Pura Verità

(The Simple Truth)

(:)(A)(:)

It has been a month since she has awakened. She knows because Natsu keeps a wrinkled calendar by the fridge, and the picture (once a scenic lake with storm clouds overhead) has changed to a field of red tipped tulips. It is strange and comfortable all at the same time – being able to measure time like everyone else – and she embraces it along with every other change that living with Natsu has offered her.

Some nights, when she is feeling particularly brave, she goes with Natsu to Fairy Tail. While he works she does her best to make small talk with the people he considers family. It is hard at first – every conversation seems to come with a reminder that she is so very lost in the workings of the human world – but it is rewarding. She is quick to learn that the crowd the bar attracts tends to be on the loud and exuberant side, and (while she found the energy intimidating at first) she finds that it makes socializing easier. Most of the patrons are more than happy to lead, even dominate, the conversation.

Erza often tells her stories of Natsu and Gray when they were younger (much to their annoyance). Gray is quick to defend himself by pointing out that Erza herself played a key part in many of their more destructive adventures, but a burning glare from the redhead usually keeps him from elaborating further. Lucy is happy that he trusts her enough to share even the most minuscule of details about their childhood. Some nights he will sit next to her and quietly sip on his whiskey. She knows that he is still uncomfortable around her, the way his eyes occasionally slide towards her is proof enough that he is still not entirely ready to put his faith in her, but his pulse no longer jumps and his posture remains relaxed when she is beside him. Lucy isn't sure she could ever ask more of him.

The men and women of Fairy Tail have been gracious and more than welcoming, but most days she feels the tinge of guilt staining what should be a normal, happy interaction. She feels as if she is lying to them all. In fact, there are many times where she has lied. When Erza invites her to brunch at her favorite cafe (for some girl time she explains) Lucy is forced to politely decline and offer up lies in disguise as excuses. It isn't hard to see the flash of disappointment of the woman's face, even though she tries to hide it behind a smile and a flippant wave of her hand.

Others visit with her as well. Mira is a constant, if intermittent, source of company. Between serving her other patrons Lucy can tell she takes special effort to make her feel welcome. Often times it is simply small talk, but Lucy notices that the busty woman often slips in a pointed question or two under the guise of polite conversation. Questions like "Where do you sleep?" and "How did you and Natsu meet?" are answered as honestly as possible but always with much consideration. She can tell that other ears are carefully listening in (that of Natsu's grandfather especially) and she doesn't want to make the mistake of letting her honesty get her best friend in further trouble.

Of all the people she has met in Fairy Tail though, she finds that Levy is the easiest to talk to. Lucy can see the curiosity behind the bluenette's (as she fondly calls her bright turquoise locks) red rimmed reading glasses, but the petite woman never pries. Instead they talk about literature. Levy even recommends and loans her a few books from her own collection. With Levy, it is easy to let her guard down. Their conversations never stray away from the world of words and fantasy, and Lucy begins to feel the ghost of her old self – a high school girl with stories filling her to the brim – stirring beneath her breast. Natsu knows of her love of stories, knows that it holds a special place in her heart, but he doesn't understand it.

Levy does.

Levy understands her thirst for painted words and never hesitates to offer solutions to help quench her longing. Which is why it was really only a matter of time before the petite girl pointed her in the direction of the holy grail of all things written.

There are books on the Internet.

It is Levy's offhanded comment of "I've read a few unpublished books online" that prompted the search, but Lucy quickly finds herself wonderfully overwhelmed by the sheer amount of material she can conjure with a few simple typed words. At her fingertips are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of stories. She needs only to know which keys to type, what links to click, and the text is there. The discovery is enough to make her love this internet thing despite the fact that she still doesn't fully understand it. For a moment her happiness is so overwhelming that she isn't sure where to start, but it passes quickly. There is only one story she can think of, one ending she is desperate for.

She types each letter carefully into the Google and holds her breath as it searches. The second link reads "Romeo and Juliet: Entire Play" and she knows she has found what she is looking for.

She starts from the beginning even though she knows nearly every line up to ACT V. The smile she wears while reading is full of anticipation, she has waited so long for the two lovers to have their happy ending she can hardly contain her excitement as she turns the pages. Then, as she begins to read the ending she never knew, her fingers slow and her smile fades.

Romeo doesn't get the letter from the friar.

Something in her withers, shrinking away from the words as if they are made of pointed steel. Still, she can't bring herself to look away from the final lines even though she feels them being carved beneath her skin. For so long she had believed the story of Romeo and Juliet to be one of romance when, all along, it is a tragedy.

She hears the deadbolt slide open and the groaning of old hinges that signify Natsu's arrival. Vaguely, she hears him ask about her day, but she is still staring at the parting words on the monitor as if they were burned there.

In her chest her heart feels heavy. "You lied."

In the entry way the shuffling of keys and the crinkling of thin plastic pauses. Lucy lets her eyes drift from what used to be her favorite story, to the man standing awkwardly in his own doorway. A quick glance shows that the take out bag in his left hand is responsible for the crinkling. She doesn't need to ask what's in it. She can smell the blood from where she sits. Even if she couldn't, she recognizes the logo from the butcher shop down the street. For a long, quiet moment Natsu simply stares back at her. Then, shaking his head, he turns and closes the front door firmly behind him.

"Alright, I give up. I ain't got a clue what you're talking about."

He doesn't sound offended by the accusation. If anything he sounds almost amused – as if her words are the start to some joke and he is waiting for the punch line. On her lap her hands twitch, and for the first time she resents him. "You lied. You said the friar gave him the letter. You said they lived happily ever after."

Natsu sets the carton on the counter and gives her a confused look. "Wait, what? What are you–" Comprehension seems to dawn, and he brings his hand to the back of his neck before offering her a sheepish smile. "Oh. So you, uh, read the end then I guess."

Her mouth tightens. "It is on the Internet."

He cringes. "Right, course it is." When she continues to stare, he drops his hand in what looks like surrender. "Look, the ending was really depressing, ok? That's one of the reasons I hated it in high school. Other than, you know, the fancy words and stuff." When she remains stubbornly silent, he sighs. "Is it really that big a deal?"

It shouldn't be, but it is. It is just a story, words written hundreds of years ago and played out ever since, but for her it is more. For so many years she had read and reread those lines thinking they were part of a masterpiece that conveyed messages of love triumphing over all. When everything else around her was darkened by blood and violence, she had worshipped those pages. That torn up book had been her salvation – one of the few bright things in her existence. Only, now she knows that it was all a lie. The words she loved so much had always been as dark and tragic as the rest of it.

She feels as if she has been cheated – lied to. Not only by Natsu, but by the world, and for the first time in a long time she feels angry.

The fact that Natsu doesn't understand – that he will probably never understand – only serves to darken her mood. She bites the inside of her cheek to refrain from saying something she knows she will regret later. She does not want to be angry with him, and, given time, she knows she won't be. It is not his fault that what he thought to be an act of mercy ended up being nothing more than slow, bitter poison.

Silently, she stands before grabbing her boots by the front door. She doesn't look in his direction, but she can feel his eyes on her all the same. It is only when she slips her foot into the brown leather that he seems to find his voice.

"Whoa, wait! Where are you going?" There is an edge of panic in his voice, and it makes her heart twinge even as she pulls the second boot over her calf.

"I need some fresh air," she murmurs tightly. It is not a lie, but it is far from the truth. She needs more than the feel of a light breeze on her skin. She needs the smell of old ink; to feel the dimpled pages of worn paper. She needs the weight of a book in her hands – one of her books. For the past month Natsu has provided her with everything she could possibly need, but suddenly the longing to hold onto something of her own is overwhelming. She doesn't tell him because she knows that he will not understand, and she does not want to seem ungrateful.

He places himself between herself and the door. "Look, I'm sorry. Really, I am. I didn't know it was that big of a deal." His words come out in a rush, the syllables nearly tripping over each other. When she looks up at him his eyes are wide and his brow pinched. "Don't leave."

Suddenly Lucy realizes that he thinks she is leaving, and it is almost funny. He is too ingrained, too essential to her happiness, for her to ever give him up. She wonders how he could, even for a second, think otherwise. She is alive again because of him. With his blood he has – in the most literal and figurative of ways – warmed her heart. "I will come back," she says, laying a hand on his shoulder and gently coaxing him to step aside. When he hesitates she offers him a soft smile, and the sincerity of it seems to loosen the tight line of his shoulders.

"Tonight?" he asks.

There's a fragility in that small word, an undertone that speaks of abandonment and broken promises. Lucy remembers the night he joined her on the swings and the story he told her about the father he doesn't even know, and thinks she understands. "I will be back before dawn," she promises. "Do not worry."

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck and looking everywhere but her. "Wasn't worried," he grumbles. "Just," he pauses, fishing for words, "Don't be gone to long, yeah? Sun's gonna be up before you know it."

The corner of her mouth twitches, amused at the thought of her being caught unaware of the sun's rising. She can feel its accent from the other side of the world and can pinpoint the exact moment it will branch over her horizon. Still, she agrees if just to appease him. "I won't be long."

Natsu nods tightly, before moving anxiously to the kitchen. "Right, so I'll just, put the blood in the fridge then." He grabs the styrofoam containers from the plastic bag and begins shuffling the old take out containers that are currently taking up the majority of the fridge space. "For later."

"Thank you," she says softly, hand grasping the door knob and pulling it open. She gives him one last look, or tries to. Half of his body has disappeared into the abyss he calls a fridge. Before she closes the door between them, she sends him a smile he can't see. "I'll have a glass when I return."

There is a pause in the shuffling, and Lucy knows that he has heard her.

The walk to the abandoned hotel at the waterfront is longer than she remembers, but she thinks that the anxious fluttering of her heart may be to blame. Going back is a risk, she knows, but is is also inevitable. She has always known that she would return for her things, but she worries that perhaps she has waited too long. She is stronger because of it, thanks to Natsu and his insistence that she never go hungry, but her absence is sure to have been noticed. She can only hope that they have all assumed her to be dust, but knows the odds are not in her favor.

However, as long as she hasn't gained the attention of the monster at the top floor, she will consider herself safe.

When she arrives the building looks the same. The front door hangs halfway open as it always has – an open invitation for those looking to steal fixtures and copper pipe, and those desperate enough to seek shelter. Lucy has been witness to at least a handful of people from each category passing through those doors. They never walk out. She isn't sure what happens to the bodies. She tries not to think about the possibilities.

She doesn't give herself a moment to steel her nerves – she doesn't have the time to spare. Every second she lingers is an invitation for trouble, and so she quickens her pace as she climbs the cracked concrete steps and passes the threshold. The walls stink of blood – of death. It chokes her, and for a moment she finds herself staggering at the entrance before she remembers she doesn't need to breath. She makes a point to hold her breath, even though it goes against her every instinct to do so. Not for the first time, she regrets the return of that particular sense.

Her journey down the halls are quiet and uneventful. It takes her mere minutes to find her old room and a minute more to stack the notebooks in her arms. She leaves the books but only because she has to. The weight of her words sits heavily in her arms. She can not carry more than what she has, and she is not willing to sacrifice her work for someone else's. As it is, she is not able to balance all of the notebooks she has filled the past twenty years, and she is forced to choose the oldest volumes over the more recent. The one with her blood staining the cover, the last thing she has from her life before, lies on the top.

As she quietly steps into the hallway she is thankful that most of her brethren are away. The stray thought is followed almost immediately by guilt. The weight of which nearly causes her to stagger. She knows that her luck is at the expense of someone's life. Suddenly the notebooks in her arms don't seem as important. Still, they are hers, and she can't bring herself to abandon them now.

She turns a corner – the last one – and freezes when she sees the silhouette lurking in front of the exit. For a sliver of a second she considers retreating, but she knows it is already too late. Minerva is already sending her a dark smile – the same one she likes to give all of her prey – and Lucy knows she has been caught.

"Ah, so the little lost kitten returns," she purrs, her stilettos clicking against the cracked marble tile as she comes closer. "Here I was, thinking you had finally put yourself out of your misery." Her mouth purses in a familiar expression of annoyance. "Pity."

Lucy says nothing in hopes that she will lose interest and take her sharpened tongue elsewhere. It doesn't work. Her elder's senses are too sharp, and after a short moment of musky silence her sharp laughter fills the halls.

Quickly, Lucy tries to rush past her, but Minerva swiftly grabs her by the neck and pins her against the wall before she can retaliate. She holds her precious words so tightly that she can feel the pages crease under the pressure, and suppresses the urge to pull at the hand around her throat.

"So you finally did it after all these years..." She forces Lucy's face to the side, dissecting her with her stare. When Lucy flinches at the accusation, Minerva releases her with a snort of laughter. "Not so high and mighty now are you? Now that you have all that warm blood filling your veins," she goads. "Tell me, was it the boy? Or did you drain some passed out drunk like a coward."

Indignation flares and she spits back a response before she can think better of it. "I haven't 'drained' anyone."

She seems momentarily surprised by the sharpness of her tone – by her courage – but it quickly subsides. "Lies," she scoffs. "Do you really think I'm a fool? I can hear all that blood pumping through you. I can hear it singing." When Lucy remains stubbornly silent, Minerva's eyebrows raise in surprised understanding. "Ah, I see. You've been feeding off the boy but you've managed to keep from killing him. I must say, Kitten, I'm impressed. Your first meal and you decide to milk the cow instead of butchering it."

"He's not my pet," Lucy snaps. "He's not food."

She waves a hand carelessly. "Of course he is. They all are."

Her fingers dimple the pages of her life's work as she fights the urge to scream, to deny everything at the top of her lungs, because it isn't true. "Not to me."

Patience gone, Minerva's lip curls, words hissing between her teeth. "This is what we are."

Lucy shakes her head. "No – that's what you are. Not me."

She laughs darkly, painted lips pulled back and teeth exposed. "Is that what you think? You little fool." Her eyes sharpen and she leans in close, her voice lowering with an edged threat. "Just because you haven't drained your little pet dry yet doesn't mean you won't. You'll lose control – the blood will taste so good, the feeling of power will make you so high – that you will eat and eat until there is nothing but a dried up husk of a body left behind."

Lucy feels her stomach turn, the idea of Natsu lying on the ground – gone – makes her physically ill. "I won't." Her voice is only a little more than a whisper, but there is a firmness to it – a promise. "I won't."

Minerva sneers, skeptical. "You will. You've held out longer than anyone thought possible, but eventually you will break."

"No," she insists, shaking her head. "I won't. I won't feed off him."

"Oh?" She hums, tilting her head and twisting a strand of dark hair between her elegant fingers. "You plan on starving? Please, now that you've had a taste you won't let yourself go hungry again."

"I won't feed off him," she repeats, firmer this time. "I won't feed off anyone. I don't need to."

She pauses, strands of hair poised between her fingers, and her eyes narrow suspiciously. "What are you talking about?" When Lucy doesn't answer right away she snaps, "Well? Spit it out!"

"Pigs blood," she blurts. "I can live on pig blood."

Minerva laughs, and Lucy resists the urge to flinch back as the sound bounces off the moldy walls around them. "You stupid little girl! You really think that will fill you? That it will satisfy you?"

Her shoulders stiffen, her spine straightening with a determination she hasn't felt in a long time. She has never liked Minerva, but right now she hates her. She hates her for being so certain that she will fail. She hates her for insisting that Natsu will die by her hands. She wants to wipe the knowing smirk from her face forever. "It already has."

The laughter stops. "You lie," she hisses. In the dim lighting the other woman's eyes burn like embers. There is anger there, but behind it is a pinprick of doubt.

Lucy knows what Mard Greer has preached. She knows he has said time and time again that the blood of humans – only the blood of humans – will sate their kinds thirst. Lucy knows it to be a lie now, but before she found herself on Natsu's floor with animal blood dripping from her chin, she believed it.

She knows Minerva believed it too.

"It's true," she says, her voice unwavering.

For a long moment the older woman regards her carefully. Lucy isn't sure what Minerva finds – what she believes – but after a while she turns her burning gaze away with a scoff. "What ever helps you sleep, Kitten."

It is a dismissal, and Lucy is all too happy to oblige.

Without a second thought she rushes out of the building. She knows that Minerva is watching – she can feel her eyes burning the back of her neck and is confident that if she turns around now they will catch each other's gaze. The hairs on her arms stand on end, but she forces herself to keep moving forward. Minerva wants her gone more than she wants her miserable – of that she is almost certain. She hopes it will be enough to keep the older vampire from informing Mard Greer of her activities. No matter what, she needs to avoid his attention at all cost and, more importantly, she must be sure that Natsu stays safe.

Lucy vows to stay by his side for the next few weeks, just in case. They do not know where he lives or where he works, but Minerva knows that he would meet her at the park. It is not a lot of information to go on, but it is enough. All they need on their side is timing, and they are bound to see him entering or exiting his apartment building. She wonders if she should urge him to change his hair color, if just to help avoid attention...

The closer she gets to Natsu's apartment, the more her stomach begins to churn with anxiety.

It is not in her nature to lie, not as a human and not as a monster, but as she puts more and more space between her and the old hotel she realizes that telling the truth to Minerva was a costly mistake. She should have never let her know that Natsu is still alive – she should have grinned and pretended she was a monster just like the rest of them. She has spent so long clinging to the shred of humanity she has left that the idea of even pretending to lose it makes her stomach roll and her hands tremble. She is terrified that pretending to be a monster may mean losing her stubborn grip on her humanity. Still, it may have been worth the risk, and as she rushes down the mostly empty streets she can't help but feel she has tipped the scales against herself – worse, against Natsu.

Lucy clutches the books to her chest tightly, hears the pages crinkle beneath her grasp. She should have never come. She should have left them.

She has been such a fool.

She is almost halfway back home when she notices that the same set of footsteps has been following her from a distance for the past ten blocks, and it feels as if her worst fears may be realized. Panic settles beneath her breast, prompting her pulse to quicken and her heart to stutter. She takes a sharp turn into a quiet alley even though it is nearly a straight shot to Natsu's apartment from where she is. She won't allow herself to be followed there. She won't let the monsters know where he lives. She would die first.

It is only in the echoing darkness of the alleyway that she realizes she is wrong. The footsteps behind her are heavy and hit the pavement with an authority that goes against her kinds silent nature. She catches the musty scent of beer shortly after, hears the slight drag of her stalkers left foot, and knows that she is right. Her kind don't get drunk – not easily – and when they do consume alcohol it is usually in the shape of a martini glass and not a brown glassed bottle.

Fear leaves her in a rush (like a deep breath held in too long) and the tight coil in her stomach slowly unwinds. There is still an itch though, an insistent prodding, that reminds her that the sun has begun its ascent, and that her time is limited. Too limited to waste time weaving through alley ways pretending to be the mouse.

Soon the jumbled sounds of engines and car horns start to become louder, and she knows that she is close to the main road. The shadowed form of two lanky men in front of her block her path and, seeing their beer stained grins, Lucy realizes that they have no intention of letting her pass.

The taller one, pale with a receding hairline he hides under a cap, whistles. "Nice one, Boss." His eyes, a darker shade of brown, make a slow, suggestive descent down her body. "Been a while since we've had meat this fresh, hey Julio?"

The tanned skin man next to him punches his arm. "Man, no names! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You new at this or something?!"

"Ah, she won't tell anyone. Will ya, Sweetheart?" A heavy, muscular arm drapes over her shoulders from behind, and she is quick to shrug it off and step away. The man that was following her gives a loud barking laugh in response to her glare. "Look at this lads! We got a feisty one tonight!"

"Let me be," Lucy says. She leaves no room for argument, but they all laugh at her anyway.

The one they call Boss plants both hands on either side of her head, bracing against the brick wall behind her. "Would ya look at that? She even talks fancy!" His eyes (so blue they feel cold) narrow, and for a moment he almost looks like a monster. "We're gonna have some fun with you."

If it wasn't for the rapidly dwindling amount of time she had left before the sun arose, Lucy would have found his threats funny. As it is now, they only bring her annoyance. "I won't tell you again," she warns. "Let me be."

Again, they laugh. Louder this time, as if the joke was funnier the second go around. Lucy is two seconds away from forcing her way through them when she catches a glimpse of familiar pink locks past the shoulder's of the two lackey's blocking her path.

"Hey! You heard her! Leave her the fuck alone!" Natsu's voice drowns out their laughter, and soon all eyes are set only on him.

The one named Julio stalks towards him and raises a fist threateningly. "Hey man, you stupid or something?! Mind your own damn business and get lost!"

Natsu doesn't budge. At his sides his clenched fists shake with a fury Lucy has never witnessed. His eyes burn into her captor's. "Get the hell away from my friend or I swear I'll–"

"Christ!" The boss exclaims, sounding more annoyed than anything. He throws an irritated look to his accomplices and gestures jerkily towards Natsu. "What the fuck are you two waiting for?! Shut him up already!"

It is only when both men begin to stalk towards Natsu that Lucy understands how they mean to silence him. "No!" Rough hands shove her into the hard brick and her notebooks fall from her hands like flightless birds, but her eyes are on Natsu. His expression is one of fury and no fear as he throws the first punch and temporarily knocks the taller man to the ground clutching his stomach. Julio swings at his face and misses, and Lucy thinks that maybe Natsu will be victorious after all.

Her captor's grip bites painfully into her arm and jerkily pulls her away from the wall until the scene of brawling men is blocked by his broad chest. If her flesh was still human she knows there would be bruises. Behind her she hears Natsu shouting – demanding that she be released. The sound of fist meeting flesh, a pained wheeze, follows. The smell of Natsu's blood, as small as it is, stains the air. Her eyes meet her captor's, determination sharpening the edges of her irises.

"Eyes up here, Sweetheart," he purrs. "You are a pretty one, aren't ya? I think..." He trails off, and she watches as the blue in his eyes recedes and his gaze loses focus. He cannot look away from her – she wills it to be so. Through his eyes she unravels his soul, twisted piece by twisted piece until she is holding it by its strings like some perverse puppet. She has only had to do it once before ... On another man who thought he was the only monster in an alley way. It is easier this time, smoother, now that she knows which threads to pluck.

Around her wrist, his grip loosens.

"Take your friends and go away." Her voice is clear and rings with authority. The hand around her wrist falls away, and the grizzled man in front of her steps back. For a moment she thinks she sees a flash of fear in his eyes, but before she can be sure he has already turned away.

"Julio! Mike!" He hollers, his uneven steps sounding clearly in the suddenly silent alley. With him no longer hovering over her, Lucy can see that Julio has managed to lock his arms over Natsu's shoulders from the back in an obvious effort to immobilize him. The blood draining from his swollen nose tells her that Natsu must have proved to be quite the unwilling prisoner; and with the amount of space Mike was giving him (and the dirty shoe print on his chest) she knows that he had faced similar trouble. "We're leaving."

Mike's hands drop, his face slacking in confusion. "But Boss–"

Their leader's steps do not falter, and he is soon passing them by. "Now."

Natsu seems as confused as the others two, but doesn't try to reinitiate the fight as Julio hesitantly releases him. Wordlessly, after sharing a few more baffled looks and sending several glances in her direction, the two men reluctantly follow their boss out of the alley and onto the main street before disappearing from sight.

Natsu watches them leave, his arms limp on either side. "...What just happened?"

She doesn't answer him. Instead she kneels in the dirty alley, stale rain water seeping into her leggings, and begins picking up the spiral bound notebooks she had abandoned. Most of the pages are heavy and water logged, and she feels her heart sink with the realization that most of her words have surely bled from the paper.

"Luce?" His voice is closer now, hovering over her shoulder. She never even heard him walk up to her.

She holds the delicate, painfully empty pages to her chest and feels the fabric of her shirt become damp and cold. "I told you," she murmurs, reaching for another sodden treasure, "it's the eyes you should be afraid of."

In the silence that settles between them Lucy hears his pulse – hears the way it jumps – and knows the exact moment when understanding finds him.

"You mean, you did that? You made him leave?"

She nods, clutching her forgotten stories closer until water drips from the pages. Behind her, Natsu releases a breath so large she can almost feel it whisper against her hair.

"Whoa. That's... Amazing."

The amount of awe in his voice is striking, and she is torn between being angry at his lack of understanding or relieved by it. "No, Natsu. It's not."

He scoffs, crouching down next to her before bumping her shoulder. A glance in his direction proves that he is grinning like a fool. "Sure it is! You got that dude and his lackeys to run off without even lifting a finger! That's, like, super hero stuff right there."

She wants to argue, wants him to realize how childish he sounds, but something stops her. Maybe it is the dim lighting, but his eyes don't seem as bright and his smile seems to be stretched too wide. She thinks that maybe he isn't so naive after all. Maybe beneath that grin is the understanding that she could have done a lot more than just telling that man to take his crew and leave. A few simple words and she could have had the alleyway bathed in blood.

Somehow the thought puts her at ease. She wants him to understand how dangerous she is – how dangerous her kind is – so that he will know when to run away.

She eyes the rapidly darkening bruise along his jaw before dropping to examine the split knuckle on his right hand. Her fingers itch to caress the damage flesh, to make it better, but she knows she isn't capable. "You shouldn't have jumped in," she mutters, gaze catching his. "You were hurt for nothing."

He shrugs. "Ezra's put me through worse. It doesn't even hurt all that much to be honest." His eyes glance down to the soggy pages in her arms and his brow creases. "Wait, are those your notebooks?" His hands reach for one of sets of bound pages she has not yet claimed from the ground, and Lucy winces when she realizes it is the one with her blood and name on the cover.

"Yes," she murmurs.

He releases a long breath, shaking his head. "Why?"

She can't meet his eyes so she focuses on picking up the remaining scraps of her existence instead. "I just wanted something that is mine. From before." Beside her, Natsu is eerily quiet as she stands. A quick glance is all it takes to confirm what her senses are already screaming at her. Light is beginning to filter in between the buildings, and the shadows are becoming deeper and more defined as the sky takes on a blushing hue. "The sun will be up soon."

Natsu curses under his breath and wastes no time tucking her notebook under his arm and grabbing her hand. "Shit, almost I forgot about your sun allergy."

His palm his hot in hers as they walk quickly down the quiet sidewalks. The city is beginning to come alive again. One by one, windows turn into dim stars as the lights are switched on and the people inside their homes begin to prepare for the day. By the time she can see Natsu's apartment building only half of the windows remain dark behind the glass and the horizon is turning more blue than pink. She only has ten or so minutes before the sun will peak over the horizon. Still, despite the urgency humming through her veins, she finds herself staring at the park and her steps slow to a pause.

There is no lamplight to illuminate her bench, and she realizes with a pang that this is the first time since she was alive that she has seen the park without its artificial light. She blinks away the stinging in her eyes and holds the notebooks closer to her chest.

Natsu squeezes her hand. It feels like a question. "Luce?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

She can hear the frown in his voice. "You ain't got anything to be sorry for."

She shakes her head and swallows the thick emotion sitting heavily in her throat. "I should never have gone back." She looks down at the soggy paper and thinks of all the stories she has written and how many she has now lost, and feels foolish. "It was stupid," she murmurs, meeting his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

His hands reach up to touch the ever present scarf around his neck, his eyes dropping away from her's. "No, it's not. It's not stupid at all."

There is a story behind the way his fingertips just barely graze the white fabric – as if he is afraid to accept its comfort. She doesn't know the details, but she feels that perhaps he understands after all, and as the sunlight begins to flood the rooftops she sits in the safety of Natsu's apartment and wishes she had never known the story of Romeo and Juliet. It would be better not knowing – safer for her fragile heart.

On the kitchen counter her notebooks remain unopened.

AN: Firstly, I just want to thank everyone for their continued support for this story (and just support in general, you guys truly spoil me). I'm sorry it has taken so long, but I do hope you enjoyed the extra long chapter. As always, thank you to the lovely madartiste for being such a wonderful beta!

A little update on the home front. Max is now 9 months old and crawling like crazy. He loves to pull himself up onto the furniture and stand up like a "big boy". I'm suspecting that he will begin to walk here in the next few weeks (which means I will probably be doing a lot more running). As far as I'm concerned he is the cutest little baby in the whole freaking world (I'm not biased at all), and both the Hubbie and I fall a little bit more in love every day. :) Thank you to all who have expressed their well wishes, I'm sorry I haven't been as good about responding back as I should be.

I hope to get the next chapter out sooner rather than later, but I (unfortunately) can't offer any promises.

As always, I hope you will take the time to tell me your thoughts on this chapter!