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The Art of Drowning
By Absentangel
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There is a lot that Gray Fullbuster doesn't feel these days. Loss does that. It numbs him from the inside out, puts every emotion on ice until it he is ready – and only when he is ready – to thaw it out and let it soak into his skin, his bones. It is how he copes and, despite Erza's insistence that he shouldn't hold it in, years of experience has taught him that he can't function any other way. Still, even through the thick layer of ice he has surrounded himself with, he still feels surprise when, upon opening the men's restroom door, he sees Lucy leaning over the sink with her hands planted on the counter and her eyes staring straight into her mirror's reflection.
He checks the front of the door again to be sure (just in case the women's bathroom, for whatever reason, happened to look exactly like the men's – urinal and all). When it is confirmed that he is, in fact, in the correct room he closes the door softly behind him. There is a weariness in the way his friend hovers over the porcelain. In the mirrors reflection he can see the purple bags hiding beneath her makeup, and feels a wave of remorse wash over him before he quickly freezes it over. He is not ready to swim, he isn't even sure if he remembers how, and he can't afford to drown.
He isn't sure what draws his attention to her hands – maybe it is the way her fingers are as pale as the porcelain – but he finds himself noting his observation before he can think better of it. "You aren't wearing your ring."
She visibly jumps, and Gray realizes that she hadn't even realized he was there. When she sees it is him, she seems to relax, looking down at her left ring finger with an expression he can't quite decipher. "No, no I'm not."
It's odd to see her hand without the glint of gold. The thin, pale band of skin – the only evidence of the ring she used to wear daily – makes her slender fingers look even more empty. More fragile. He doesn't understand how she could take it off. The past week has turned his strong willed friend into a wisp of a woman, and he thinks that she needs everything she can to keep from floating away.
Lucy must see some of the doubt in his eyes, because she begins to rub at the skin in a motion that is similar to the way she used to spin the band around her finger. "It hurts," she says, so softly he almost misses it. Her eyes give a few quick blinks, and she clears her throat as if it wasn't emotion that shut it in the first place. "It burns."
Slowly, Gray nods. He doesn't understand, not really, but he doesn't need to. "You know this is the men's bathroom, right?"
She smile she gives him has no warmth behind it, only a tiredness that he is all too familiar with. "They would have followed me into the women's."
He doesn't have to ask who "they" are. Everyone has offered assistance in whatever small way they can, but the women of Fairytail have been particularly diligent when it came to the celestial mage. Gray can understand how she would wish to have a moment alone. "I can leave," he offers. He still needs to take a piss, but he can just as easily find an unfortunate tree or bush outside.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "I should be going anyway. I just needed a moment."
Something in the way she says it makes him pause, and suddenly the rings around her eyes look darker. "Lucy, you can have as many moments as you want – for as long as you want... You know that, right?"
The small laugh she gives is hollow, and to Gray's ears it sounds more like a repressed sob. "I wish that was true."
He wants to ask why it wouldn't be, but he already knows her answer. Nashi. "She's not a baby anymore, Lucy. You don't have to be strong for her. Not right now."
"She's eight," she whispers. Tears fill the bottoms of her lids and threaten to spill. Lucy chokes them back, smothers them with anger and resolve. "She's eight years old and she has lost her father. She needs me."
Gray grips her shoulders, softly enough that he won't risk hurting her but tightly enough that he can keep her from floating away. "She will always need you. You're her mom. No one is questioning that. But damn it, Lucy, you lost your husband. You need to grieve too."
She shakes her head, but he catches a glimpse of a tear before it falls. "I can't. I can't."
"Yes, Lucy, you can."
"I can't," she repeats, louder this time. "If I start..."
She trails off, but Gray doesn't need her to finish in order to understand. If she starts she won't be able to start. If she cries, if she mourns, then Natsu is really dead. He understands because he feels the same way. Around his heart the ice cracks, and emotion closes his throat and burns his eyes.
He is not ready. She is not ready. If they try to swim now they will both drown.
Only, Gray suspects that Lucy is already sunk down deep, feet grazing the sand, and holding her breath. It's only a matter of time before she tries to breath and water fills her lungs.
AN: For Angst Week Bonus Prompt: Family. Happy Mother's day to all those wonderful mommies out there!