Chapter Four – Healing Wounds

Year: 1540x. Luna-cycle: 3. Day: 12.

"You'll need to stop moving, Laxus."

"Shit, sorry."

"Stop apologising."

Laxus didn't reply, instead keeping his eyes trained on the uneven wooden floor before him. He was sitting on an uncomfortable feeling bed in a small inn, shirt removed to expose a torso covered with drying blood, cuts, bruises and scars. His left leg was bouncing a little and his hands were clenched against his knees, teeth gritted as he did his best not to move.

Behind him was Freed, who was treating to Laxus' wounds. The other man was beat up as well, but not to the same degree that Laxus was. He had insisted that Laxus' injuries were more pressing than his own, and that he would deal with himself when he had stopped the bleeding coming from the blonde's back. Laxus had opened his mouth to say something but, as he saw the blood-soaked towel in his traveling companion's hand and realised that it was the same towel that had been pressed against his back seconds prior, the argument died on his tongue.

The clenching in his jaw intensified as he felt a cloth – damn after being doused in alcohol – being pushed against one of his wounds. He had to fight the instinct to either move or push Freed away, knowing that the torturous action was needed. He felt Freed place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

He and Freed had been travelling together for over half of a year now, and the early hesitance and possible animosity he had held towards Freed had died. The two men had become used to each other and, for the most part, worked as a well oiled machine. They both had strengths and weaknesses that became apparent as time passed, and they would often be able to compensate for each other and, as a team, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Laxus' desire to continue traveling indefinitely with Freed had become apparent after they arrived at their second city. There had been no issues there and Freed had managed to find a similar situation for Laxus so he could have a house and work immediately, but the blonde still hesitated. He had grown used to traveling – and used to Freed – and wasn't ready to give it up. Eventually, after a prolonged goodbye wherein Laxus attempted to come up with an excuse to continue traveling with Freed while also saving his pride, Freed took matters into his own hands and simply gave Laxus the offer to stay with him, to which Laxus thankfully agreed.

Mind you, it wasn't merciful. The smugness on his face was excruciating.

After that, the dynamic of traveling changed slightly. It suddenly felt as though Laxus wasn't just tagging along, as he seemed to have both more responsibilities and more respect. They now trained together, drunk together and, on occasion, laughed together. It was good, and Laxus found himself enjoying it.

Other than the fact he had burning alcohol on an open wound, of course.

"Laxus," Freed spoke again, his voice stern. "You need to stay still, or this'll only get worse."

"I'm fucking trying," Laxus hissed, perhaps childishly. "It ain't happening to you."

Freed didn't reply, instead of focused on cleansing the wound. He tried to act quickly, having been in the same situation and knowing the pain Laxus was going through, but knew doing a good job was more important than making sure that Laxus was comfortable.

The moment he had cleansed the large gash across the blonde's back to a satisfactory level, he reached into his small bag of medical supplies and pulled out some bandages. He was quick to start wrapping them around the man's body, not wanting any more blood to drip down and perhaps stain the bedsheets; they would already have to pay for the towels, and their funds were running low.

With the alcohol no longer rubbing against his flesh, Laxus allowed himself to relax a little. He moved his arms so that Freed could tightly wrap his wound – which hurt, but not nearly as much as the rag had – and closed his eyes.

The memory of how he and Freed had gotten into such a state was slightly hazy as he had gotten hit in the head a few times, but he could remember that it had happened early in the morning. He and Freed had been forced to camp out for the night in a forest, as they hadn't arrived in the town when planned. A storm had occurred, and they had both decided it would make more sense to set up camp rather than walking through torrential rain with only the dimmed stars to light their way.

As they slept, a group of thieves had apparently stumbled upon their camp. Laxus awoke a little after Freed, and could hear the sound of multiple voices yelling. He took a few moments to appreciate what was happening, but his daze was broken when he heard swords clashing.

The moment he left the tent, sword in hand, he saw that a fight had broken out.

"The fuck is happening?"

At Laxus' words, Freed turned to look at him. The traveller was holding his sword, parrying it with another. Six men surrounded him, all with brandished weapons and patronising expressions on their faces. It didn't take long for Laxus to realise the basics of the situation; the men were enemies that they had to fight.

The blonde quickly tightened his grip on his sword as he saw many of the group look towards him. It seemed that the leader was fighting with Freed, perhaps he thought Freed was alone and could be made quick work of, and he nodded to one his group. The underling brandished his weapon without hesitation, and started to walk towards Laxus with a neutral expression that Laxus knew was meant to be intimating.

It didn't work.

Laxus hadn't been in a sword fight – other than in training – since the one he and Freed had undergone in Magnolia. Despite not having any practical fighting, Freed's training was brutal and invaluable. The blonde knew he could overpower the smaller man, despite his half-awake state.

The moment the thief swung his weapon towards Laxus, the blonde moved his sword to block it. His actions were fast, as were his instincts. The moment he removed any momentum from the moving weapon, Laxus changed the direction of his swing so that it clashed towards the mans legs. The steel slashed against the thick leather boots of the thief, which partially blocked the blow and offered a small amount of protection, meaning the attack wasn't a quick fix as Laxus had hoped it would be. He gritted his teeth and brought his sword back to a neutral position.

Again, the man swung his sword, this time hoping to hit Laxus' side. The blonde managed to block the hit again, but held the sword at an angle where he couldn't continue an assault. The thief continued to push, hoping to overpower Laxus. The blonde pushed against the weapon, but the dirt gave way under his foot and his sword left his grasp, falling out of reach.

With his weapon no longer viable to use, Laxus remembered one piece of advice Freed had give him. Fighting couldn't be seen as an artform in situations like this, there were no rules and no finesse. For all he knew, this thief was going to kill him if he lost this fight, which Laxus needed to stop. Just because he couldn't use his sword, didn't mean the fight was over. He clenched his fists together and quickly assessed his situations, trying to figure out what best to do.

He shunted himself forward and turned on his heel, placing himself with his back against the thief's chest. He slammed his elbow into the man's stomach, causing enough shock for him to lessen his grasp on the weapon. Laxus was quick to wrestle it out of his hand and throw it to the side.

"The hell?" Laxus managed to hear the thief say over the sound of the heavy rain.

Laxus moved back so that he was face to face with the thief again and ran a hand through his sodden hair to remove it from his eyes. He narrowed his gaze and saw that the thief had reached for a large knife that he had kept in belt.

He hadn't had time pick up his own weapon, meaning he was still unarmed. The thief was coming towards him, so he didn't have time to pick his sword up again. He would just have to fight with his fists.

The thief lunged forward with his knife, aiming towards Laxus' stomach. The blonde managed to avoid being stabbed but felt the blade brush against his side and knew that it had cut him. Before the thief could retract his wrist, Laxus grabbed it and pulled the thief forward. He slammed his fist into the man's stomach again, noticeably winding him and giving the blonde the opportunity to pull the knife out of the thief's hand and stab it deep into a tree, out of reach.

With a wince, Laxus glanced towards his left hand and saw that, as he had taken the dagger out of the other man's grasp, it had left a pretty nasty gash across his palm. He would deal with that later; the fight was more important.

Now they were both unarmed, it was a fistfight. Good, Laxus had the advantage.

He lurched forwards, fist clenched and ready to punch the man. The thief seemed a little concerned but, after intending to embed his knife into Laxus' stomach, the blonde held no sympathy for him. His fist flung forward into the man's chest without restraint, making the man stumble back and grab the part of his torso that had been hit.

Laxus wasn't finished. He took another step forward and delivered a powerful punch against the man's jaw. He watched as the thief's eyes fluttered closed and he slowly fell to the ground, face burying in the dirt.

Quickly, Laxus nudged the man with his foot and flipped him over. Despite being covered in the wettened mud and a small amount of blood, the unconscious man was obviously breathing and hadn't undergone an injury too serious. In any other situation, he would make sure to restrain the man so that he couldn't suddenly wake up and cause any other issues, but there were still five men who needed to be dealt with.

He looked up to see that the leader of the group seemed shocked at Laxus defeating his companion, and Freed used the distraction to push him back. Laxus quickly picked up his sword and stood next to Freed, looking at the rest of the group with narrowed eyes.

They could do this.

Laxus was brought back to the present when the gentle tugging of the bandages being applied stopped suddenly. He looked down to see that the entirety of his stomach, as well as his left pectoral, was entirely covered in the white bandages, a testament to the amount of injuries that he had received during the fight.

Checking out the bandages, he saw that Freed had done a neat, perfect job. When in Magnolia, if he had ever sustained an injury, he would have to deal with it himself. Ivan's logic was that, if he wasn't good enough in a fight to keep himself safe, then he should be the one to deal with the consequences rather than wasting someone else's time. Multiple times, an injury hadn't been treated in the correct way and he found himself wrapped in bandages that weren't tight, nor applied correctly.

"Thanks," He muttered, a little red.

He was glad of the help, of course he was. But Ivan's influence still remained in his head and on occasion came out, such as it just had. Laxus had been raised to become a man who needed no help. He was meant to handle any situation, to think with his fists and not compassion, and as someone who was flawless.

Though he knew that wasn't possible, he still felt small amounts of shame when he proved to himself that he wasn't the kind of man he had been raised as.

"You're overthinking," Freed commented as he walked to the shared bathroom and washed his hands. "There's nothing emasculating about getting help, I would have hoped you knew this by now."

"I do, I do," Laxus sighed, looking at his lap. "Just, hard to put into practice, y'know."

"I suppose so," Freed walked back into the room. "Show me your hand."

Laxus immediately looked down to his left hand, to see that the cut that he had received was still there, though it had stopped bleeding. The cut was nasty looking, not helped by both the dried blood and hardened mud that surrounded it, but it was his own fault that he hadn't been more careful when taking the knife from his opponent.

He closed his hand before Freed could see it, not wanting the other man to realise how bad it was. If he did, he would insist on treating it in the way he had with the wound's over Laxus' back. This was something he could do himself, and he wasn't going to make Freed do it for him.

"It's fine," He said passively. "You should be more worried about yourself."

"My wounds are relatively inconsequential. Certainly not as bad as yours," Freed said, glancing towards Laxus' hand.

It was obvious to both men that Freed didn't believe Laxus about the state of his hand, but the blonde wasn't going to back down on this. He had made a mistake, an easily avoidable one too, and he was going to be the one to fix it. He would have done the same with the injuries covering his torso if it had been possible.

"Even if they aren't that bad, you gotta treat em," Laxus continued, ignoring Freed's tone of mistrust. "You told me that, right?"

Freed's expression hardened a little, and Laxus knew that he hadn't left room for argument. There had been multiple times where, during their training together, a blade had been moved incorrectly and they had ended up with a wound. Freed had always been insistent that they treat them as soon as they could, and that you shouldn't treat your own wounds when there was someone there to do it for you. Laxus had taken some time, but eventually agreed to the latter part of the philosophy in most situations, and now it worked in his favour.

The blonde stood up and walked to the bathroom, taking the rag that had previously been covered in the rubbing alcohol. He rinsed it out, as well as the blood, and walked back into the main room. Freed had removed his shirt, exposing the cuts and bruises across his taut figure.

They weren't as bad Laxus' injuries, and they could probably be healed without assistance if given time, but they both knew that it would be better if they were dealt with immediately. Laxus took the bottle of rubbing alcohol and tipped it into the rag. He sat beside Freed on one of the two beds in the room, watching as Freed placed both of his hands on the bed and leant back on them for balance.

"Ready?" Laxus asked, raising the alcohol covered rag.

"Yes," Freed said, face already slightly wincing.

Laxus felt a small amount of sympathy as he brought the rag towards Freed's chest. He softly pushed it against the largest, worst gash on the other man's body, and noticed that Freed's hands clenched around the sheets at the sharp pain he felt. Laxus didn't comment on it, knowing Freed was a prideful man and wouldn't want a show of weakness to be spoken about unless needed; Laxus could identify with the other man in that way.

Over the time traveling together, Laxus had noticed that they were more similar than he would have thought. They were both prideful, strong men who took practical approaches to situation. They had a relationship built predominantly on respect, but Laxus liked to think there was a fondness between them too.

He was certainly fond of Freed. Which was an issue, in some ways.

The slight attraction he felt towards Freed – which had occurred the day they had spent in jail together and Freed had shown a more informal, devious side for the first time – wasn't all encompassing, and he was perfectly capable of being around the other man without thinking about how good looking he was. For the most part, it wasn't on his mind, but there were exceptions. As inappropriate as it was, one such exception was when he was cleaning up the wounds on the other man's chest. Because as he pressed the rag against the man's strong torso, he felt his pupils dilate a little and his face flush.

He just hoped he could blame the redness of his cheeks on the roaring fireplace crackling a few feet away.

He quickly decided that, if there ever was a time to fully pay attention to the occasional attraction to his traveling companion, this wasn't it. Instead, he forced himself to look away and picked up another rag, dumped it into a small bowl of water, and cleaned some of the blood from Freed's shoulder. He needed to distract himself, quickly.

"You gonna tell me how you did it?" He asked, voice a little quieter.

"How I did what?"

"Beat up the four that I left," Laxus muttered, voice a little harsher than needed.

It was guilt that caused the tone of voice. After Laxus had managed to defeat the first of the thieves, they had decided that Freed and Laxus were a credible threat and, instead of some of them hanging back, they all had pounced on them at once. Three of them, including the leader, decided that they would gang up on Laxus; either because his stature made him seem the more threatening, or out of vengeance for the unconscious man.

It had started off okay, with him managing to get rid of the first one by chance. Laxus managed to hold his weapon against the man's neck, and that was enough to get him running away the first chance he could. That was, for Laxus, the turning point in the fight.

"Get back here, traitorous bastard!"

Laxus couldn't help but grin as he heard the leader of the group yell towards his fleeing companion; the expression born from both intimidating a thief to the point of abandoning his group, as well as being responsible for annoying the leader to that degree. Throughout their training, Laxus had never been sure if he would be good in a real fight, having his doubts slashed was quite gratifying.

The leader of the group turned back to Laxus, and his expression was enraged. He launched forward, holding his knife in his hand and going towards Laxus' chest. The blonde managed to move out of its path for the most part, but felt it slice against his back.

He staggered back a little, shocked at the cut that was obviously parting his skin. He gritted his teeth as glared at the leader, deciding he would have to deal with that cut after the fight ended as well. Trying to ignore the pain he felt and the droplets of blood sliding down the curve of his back, he focused on the leader as he went back for another attack.

Laxus' instincts were forced into overdrive. The leader leant back before immediately pushing forward again, trying to catch Laxus off guard. He managed to avoid the outstretched dagger multiple times but couldn't manage a counter attack during the onslaught.

Quickly, he realised that he had taken a step back every time he avoided the dagger aimed towards him. He was soon pushed against a large tree and could see the leader of the group grinning. Laxus' jaw clenched as the man approached again.

"Shit," He muttered trying to come up with a plan.

He dropped his sword quickly, there wasn't enough space to swing it. Again, the leader of the group swiped his knife forward, this time aiming for Laxus' head. The blonde was forced to duck out of the way, and he saw that his assailant's hand stop suddenly. He looked up and saw that the knife had been caught in the trunk of the large tree, and the leader of the group was struggling to pull it out to continue his attack.

Seeing his chance, Laxus quickly slammed his fist into the man's jaw in a vicious punch. The leader staggered back a little but took the punch better than his unconscious companion. He glared towards Laxus, rolled up his sleeves and lurched forward again.

Another fist fight. Good; Laxus had proven powerful like this.

Seeing the leader go to return a punch aimed towards Laxus' face, the blonde ducked down and charged his shoulder into the man's gut. He pushed the man back into a thin tree, though his grip buckled a little when the leader's knee slammed into his own stomach. His footing slipped a little and he was forced to get his balance instead of falling into the dirt.

The leader took the moment of distraction to his advantage. He brought his knee into Laxus' already winded stomach again and pushed him back. Laxus staggered a few feet, hand on his stomach as he tried to catch his breath.

After a few short seconds of respite, Laxus stepped forward again and went to give the man another punch, aiming for the face again. The fight was going on too long, and the longer it happened the more chance of him messing up, so he wanted to end it as soon as he could. The leader of the group might be stronger than his henchmen, but that didn't mean he was completely immune to the effects of a strong punch.

Just as he went to outstretch his arm, he felt something cold against his neck. A sword. His own damn sword.

Carefully glancing to the side, he could see the other man who he had forgotten. While Laxus had been fighting the leader, the other man must have picked up Laxus' sword and had been waiting for the right moment to use it.

Laxus was tense, and glared towards the leader of the group. Despite a small amount of blood dripping down his face, the leader of the group had an expression of arrogance presented. The urge to punch the man into unconsciousness grew dramatically, but the blade pressed against the lump in Laxus' throat made him stay in place.

From where he stood, Laxus could see that Freed was still fighting against the two men who had put him as their focus. Thankfully, he was doing better than Laxus was.

"Make him kneel," The words of the leader made Laxus' eyes flitter forward.

Immediately, Laxus felt a foot slam against the back of his knee, and his legs gave way under his weight. As instructed, he was moved into a kneeling position, with his sword still resting against his throat. He made sure to look directly into the leader's eyes; he would at least attempt to maintain a little dignity.

The leader slowly, arrogantly walked towards the tree where his knife rested. He pulled it out, looking directly at Laxus as he did so. He continued to walk, this time so that he was out of Laxus' sight. The blonde tried to follow him, but a slight increase of pressure against his neck made him reconsider. He looked straight ahead, unblinking as he tried to guess what was happening behind him.

A slicing against his back told him the answer.

It happened again and again. The cuts were deeper than before, and Laxus could feel small droplets of blood flowing down him. He cried out a little after each one, the pain of the knife cutting apart his skin excruciating.

"Like that, blondie?" The leader taunted, walking back into Laxus' gaze. The blonde could see the man's dagger was slightly blood stained.

"Fuck yourself," Laxus muttered.

With a clenched jaw and stern expression, the leader walked forward again. He spun the dagger around in his hand, grabbing Laxus' chin with his free hand and looking down at him directly. Laxus tried not to look worried about what was going to happen.

Without warning, the leader slammed the hilt of the dagger against his skull. The blonde felt pain rush through him, followed by a quick sense of dizziness. The pain was dull, and quickly sent his gaze blurred and shaky. He tried to keep his eyes open, not wanting to show that the attack had any effect on him in the hoped that it would help him somehow.

It didn't.

Again and again, the blunt handle of the dagger slammed against his head. The pain doubled each time, as did the period of dizziness that followed it. His gaze started to drop and he felt his consciousness slip away.

As his eyes fluttered shut, the last thing he saw was Freed rushing towards him.

"Don't concern yourself about it."

Laxus wasn't convinced by Freed's words. He knew that the man was strong and a good fighter – he wouldn't train with him otherwise – but fighting four against one couldn't be easy. And yet, he had managed to do so as well as getting Laxus out of the forest and into the town single handily.

The blonde had drifted in and out of consciousness a few times when Freed was taking him to the town. Freed was carrying him on his back, and Laxus vaguely remembered how he was resting his head on the other man's shoulders as he run at a pretty fast speed. He had a hazy memory of seeing a look of worry on Freed's face; at the time, he hadn't registered the fact it was the first time he had actually seen his traveling companion worried.

He faded away for a little while, but vaguely remembered Freed yelling at someone, who claimed the town's doctor was unavailable and wouldn't see anyone until the morning. Then the darkness overtook him, and he woke up in the morning on an uncomfortable bed, a blood covered towel below him and Freed sitting on a bed, looking at him with the same expression of concern.

"You can't have gotten out of that without a couple more injuries," Laxus pushed a little.

"I'm fine," Freed assured him, raising his right arm so that Laxus could have better access to a cut on his side. Laxus wanted to argue the point, but the wounds that covered his body weren't as bad as Laxus', so he decided to let the argument die.

He bandaged up his companion in silence, trying to do as good a job possible and make them as neat as the ones covering his own stomach. Freed needed less attention than him, and the bandages mainly covered his chest and left shoulder, as well as a particularly nasty cut on his lower right arm; he probably wouldn't be able to use his sword comfortably for a few days.

Again, he found himself asking how Freed managed to win the fight but didn't say anything.

Without thinking, he reached for the discarded rubbing alcohol rag to clean up the final wound that he had yet to treat but reached for it with his left hand. The alcohol pushed against his unexpectant open wound and he hissed and let out a single cuss.

Freed quickly grabbed his wrist before Laxus could stop him and looked down at the blonde's palm. His eyes widened a little as he looked at the gash that Laxus had described as 'fine' and Laxus knew that there was no fighting the man now. His hands were blooded and dry and now, because of the alcohol's effect, reddened with pain.

"You consider this to be fine?"

"Compared to what you had to deal with, yeah," Laxus muttered. "One cut against a whole body of 'em, you were a priority."

"Well, with that logic, now you're the priority again."

Laxus sighed a little and allowed Freed to clean his injury, taking out the spool of bandaged and carefully wrapping them around his hand in a way that didn't restrict his fingers. The careful, gentle way he handled his hand – as he had handled the rest of Laxus' wounds – sent a small shiver down the blonde's spine. An undeniable chill that he hoped wasn't obvious to the man who had caused it.

As Freed finished wrapping the bandage, Laxus couldn't help but notice how close they were. Sitting side by side, Laxus' hand hovering inches away from Freed's lap, they were practically resting against each other.

Freed looked towards Laxus as Laxus looked towards Freed. Now their faces were inches away form one another, eye contact direct and intense. Heat flushed into Laxus' cheeks again, and the blonde hoped he wasn't imagining it when he saw the same happen to Freed. His eyes scanned over the mans face, taking in every feature that could only be described as handsome. High cheekbones, pale skin, devilishly taunting lips.

He was soon acting on instinct.

Leaning forward a little bit and tilting his head to the side slightly, he hesitated. Before he could pull back, he saw that Freed had done the same. He pushed forward a little and Freed did the same, their lips connecting softly and tentatively in a chaste kiss. After the initial touch, they both pushed a little further in to deepen the kiss.

Laxus was careful to place his hands in Freed's hair, pushing him a little further into the kiss as the damp hair wrapped around his fingers. Freed's lips were cold, demanding and perfect; and Laxus found himself melting into the sensation of the kiss.

He felt a hand push against his chest, between two cuts as not to aggravate them. He wasn't being pushed away, and he could only assume that Freed had placed his hand there for the same reason Laxus had intertwined his own hands with Freed's hair; to make the kiss more intimate and deeper. The blonde found himself smiling a little at the idea.

After a few moments, they pulled away. They were both blushing, looking directly at each other as the reality of what had just happened. It took a few moments for either to speak.

"So," Freed whispered.

"Yeah," Laxus chuckled again. "Sorry, I don't think-"

Hands were pulling his head forward again, and they were kissing a moment later. It was perfect, as was Freed.