Chapter 38: Please, Don't Leave

Somehow, Dreamer convinced Mirajane not to kill Macbeth. It took a heck of a lot of magical coercion, but the other woman finally agreed to keep a safe distance from him, though Dreamer caught her making threatening gestures at him when he walked through the guild hall. Except two days had passed and he could barely be found walking through the guild hall at all. Or anywhere else for that matter.

She'd tried to ask Piper about it, but the dice-wizard shrugged it off. He's always actin' weird, doll. I don't know what to tell you's.

It was killing her. She could count on her hand the number of times she'd seen him in the past two days, and each time they made eye contact, he would glare at her and walk away. She could hardly sleep at night, tossing and turning, wondering what she could have possibly done to warrant the kind of verbal abuse he'd dished out to her. Was it true? Was this really who he was? And had she always just been a plaything to him?

She was lost in thought, sighing at her usual table in the guild hall. She really wished Jezran were home. She could talk to him about anything and he would impart sage-like wisdom and fix her a mustard sandwich. But he'd been gone for three weeks now, tracking information about Resmond.

Resmond and the Black Diamond incidents seemed far away to Dreamer now. All she could think about was the cruel look in Macbeth's eyes, when he grabbed her by the chin, when he suggested that Lucy would make a better toy than her…

Why did this hurt so much? She'd never felt like this before. The only pain that resembled this was the pain of losing Rosy… No. Nothing could possibly be as horrible as that had been. No emotional pain would ever compare to that moment.

But this… This was still bad. It was agonizing.

I think I… The way I feel about him… I must—no, no. That's not it. I couldn't possibly.

She wasn't in love with Macbeth. She couldn't be.

"HEY!" A loud voice bellowed in the room, grabbing her attention. "I can handle your shit, Beth, but you ain't got any right to talk to her like that!"

The iron dragon slayer was standing protectively in front of Levy, who was looking a mixture of insulted and embarrassed. In front of him was none other than the source of all Dreamer's pain and longing. He was smirking cruelly at Gajeel, red eyes just as threatening and cold as they'd been toward her.

"It's true," Macbeth said in a low voice, barely audible, full of venom. "Half of the women here are only in this guild because of the lecher of a master. I've yet to see any of them possess any sort of real skill with magic."

She stood up, hardly believing her eyes. He was picking a fight with Gajeel too? But they were friends…

"What the hell, man?! You're part of this guild too, you know! What stick's up your ass that's got you insulting your guild mates?!"

"Maybe I should have considered how weak you fairies are before I joined," Macbeth scoffed. "Angel outranks all of your women in magical abilities."

"Yeah, asshole? Last I heard, Lucy kicked your little celestial wizard's ass."

"It must have been dumb luck."

Gajeel's fist throbbed. He showed excellent control by restraining a punch. "You need to eat some chocolate, change your tampon, and take a nap, pal—before you piss me off."

Macbeth just scoffed and turned his back. He strode away, coat fluttering behind him.

"Don't you walk away from me, bastard!"

"Gajeel, please!" Levy threw her arms around his stomach, holding him back. She pressed her face against the small of his back. "Don't do something you'll regret. He's still your friend!"

His sharp face took some color and he swallowed. "Alright, fine. You can let go of me, shorty."

Dreamer didn't watch to see what happened between them. Her eyes were following the train of Macbeth's coat as it disappeared around the corner.

"This is so wrong…" She shook her head and chased after him. "Macbeth!"

She knew he heard her, but he didn't slow down. If anything, he picked up his pace, then left through a side door of the guild hall. She followed, fists clenched in determination.

The day was bright and warm—hardly a breeze. It painted a mood of serenity, completely contrasting the tense atmosphere that existed between her and the man striding down the side path toward the male dorms.

"Macbeth, stop!" She called after him, desperate. "Talk to me, please!"

He lifted a hand suddenly, and a throb of dark energy shoved her back. "Leave me alone," he hissed. He walked into the door of the dormitory without a single glance back.

She stood on the sidewalk, heart pounding, adrenaline running through her veins. Indecision raced in her head. His words still stung—they made her want to be far away from him. But… She shook her head.

I can't let him act like this!

Mind made, she charged through the dormitory door. She knew where their room was and that's where she headed. She ran into a very shocked looking Gray along the way.

"Hey, what's the rush Donna?"

She ignored him and skidded around the hall in time to see Macbeth reaching for the door handle.

"MACBETH!" She screamed his name. "Stop right there!"

Amazingly, he did. His fingers fell away from the handle, arm going limp in defeat. He looked at her, eyes burning embers.

"You're a persistent fool," he snapped. "Didn't I tell you I'm not interested—"

"I know what you said!" She marched toward him, fueled by something beyond her. "And I don't believe you! I don't believe you really feel that way, about me, about the women of Fairy Tail…"

He flinched as she approached, fear flickering across his face. It was almost humorous, Macbeth looking scared of her, except there was nothing funny about this situation. There was only pain, frustration, and fear.

"Why are you doing this?!" Her voice lowered as she got closer. He tensed like an animal ready to flee. "Why are you suddenly trying to push everyone away?"

"Don't be stupid," he started, but she ignored him. She closed the distance between them and stood on her toes, hands clutching his coat to brace herself as she leaned against him. He took a step back, the fear growing in his eyes—pupils retracting. His head thumped against the wall—she had him pinned there.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was a whisper now, tears gleaming in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Macbeth, please… Tell me what's hurting you so I can help. Don't push away the people who care about you. Don't push me away."

His eyes lingered on her trembling lips. He shivered involuntarily.

"Get off," he commanded, but with no real passion in his voice.

"Talk to me, please!" She lifted a hand and stroked his white hair. He instinctively leaned his cheek into her palm. "You don't have to be afraid, Macbeth. Just tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not afraid," he lied.

"Macbeth…"

She met his eyes and held them there. Willing forward the magic circles—dancing blossoms.

Trust. Trust. Trust. Peace. Honesty. Need.

Tears sprang to his eyes.

Trust. Truth. Friendship. Lo—

She cut off that word. She wouldn't push that feeling onto him.

"Macbeth… I'm here for you."

Her magic worked. He let out a strangled cry and suddenly pulled her into his arms. He cried desperately into her hair, clutching her as if his life depended on it.

"I don't know what to do!" he sobbed. "Help me… I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Sh." She sighed quietly and stroked his back. "Let's sit down and talk, okay? Everything will be okay, I promise."

He nodded and sniffled before grabbing her hand. She withheld a gasp, instead allowing him to tug her by the hand into the room he shared with Piper. He pulled her onto the edge of his bed and fell to his knees in front of her, burrowing against her stomach, body shaking with violent tears.

"Hey…" She awkwardly stroked his hair. "It's okay, Macbeth."

"Dreamer…" He whimpered and curled his hands into fists around the fabric of her shirt.

"Tell me what's wrong," she whispered, heart aching for him. His emotions were painfully strong. She could feel them choking the air in the room. The same strange and conflicted feelings she'd felt in the kitchen.

"I can't," he gasped. "I don't… I can't." He looked up at her, as desperate as a child.

"Then… can I read you?" She lifted her hands.

He nodded. So afraid. So alone.

She brought her fingertips down to his temples, brushing aside long strands of black. She looked into his eyes and lost herself in them…

Show me where these feelings are coming from, Macbeth. Show me so I can help you.

The Tower. The screaming. The pain. These memories were always on the cusp of his emotions. She was accustomed to them by now. Running. Fleeing. Sawyer is ahead of them. He's the fastest runner. He doesn't slow down, even when the dual-haired boy trips, face colliding with stone. A hand reaches down to help him up. Erik, face full of hope. "The boats are right there, Macbeth! We'll be free!" He takes that hand and they run. Toward hope. Toward freedom.

The memory swirled, taking her someplace else, to more emotions.

"You're safe here." The man promises. He looks wild. Red eyes and white hair. Terror. Flashes of more cells. These have white walls and mechanical doors instead of iron bars, but they are still cells. "It's for your own protection," Zero says. They believe him. They have to believe him.

Excruciating pain. Every nerve burning. Blood vessels rupturing. Pain so intense that he can't scream. He can't think. Then Zero pats him on the head. "You do show potential, son. More than the others." "Son?" Sadistic eyes gleaming. "That's right. I'll be your father from now on, Midnight."

Admiration. Desperation. He has to be good enough for Father. He must be strong enough. "Father, I'm sorry! I tried but—" "SILENCE!" The fists. The rage. He cries and covers his ears, willing him to stop. Stop hurting him. He has to be stronger so he can seal Zero away. He has to be stronger so that Brain will love him. Brain won't hurt him. Brain will love him and give him freedom.

There was a pang in her chest as she felt these twisted memories.

"Hey, don't cry, Midnight." Erik sits beside him, wrapped in Cubellios. "Brain rescued us," Sorano says, taking his hand. "He'll help us get freedom," Sawyer adds, stretching on the ground at Macbeth's feet. "We'll have everything we need." Richard throws them into a bear hug.

She sighed. At least he had friends. He had hope.

Erza. "The Oracion Seis have escaped."

"Oh!" The shock of this revelation made her lose the connection. She blinked down at him, surprised. It all began to make sense. That was what sparked his sudden change in attitude—the knowledge that his friends were free.

"You feel… glad for them, right?" She focused, detecting the warm emotion threaded through the tangled ball of his feelings. "Because they're your friends and now they're free too?"

He breathed out a shaking sigh.

"But…" A thread of cold, icy fear. "I still don't understand why you're so scared."

He rested his cheek against her thigh, sniffling. He reminded her of a puppy looking to its master for comfort.

"How did they get free?" He asked, panic on the edge of his tone. "He must have broken them out… H-He'll come for me, Dreamer!" His nails dug into her skin. "He'll punish me for failing him at Nirvana!"

"You don't know that Zero broke them out, Macbeth." She kept her voice calm and comforting, offering her gentlest smile. "And you don't know if he'll come looking for you, either. Besides, even if he does, you're one of us now." Her fingertips traced where the mark was on his shoulder, somewhere below his coat sleeve. "We won't let anything bad happen to you."

She patted the bed next to her. "Come lay down and rest. I can take your nightmares away for a little while and help you sleep."

He obeyed, climbing onto the bed just to lean against the wall, knees drawn to his chest. "Don't be stupid…" He stared at the bedsheets. "The last time you used that ability on me, you were disabled for weeks."

"Yeah, but my magic is all restored now." She sat criss-cross and faced him. "One night won't hurt." Anything to make this better.

"Even if Fath—Zero isn't with them, they'll still come for me." He sank a bit more into his knees.

The words hung between them. She mulled over them, cogs spinning in her brain as she tried to piece together what was going on in Macbeth's complicated mind. When it hit her, her stomach twisted.

"If your friends come to get you… you might go with them."

His lack of response was all the answer she needed.

"Oh." Part of her wanted to shake him and scream. What about Fairy Tail? What about Team Derelict Heart and the memories they'd made? What about their walk through the Rose Garden center, their magical carpet rides, cakes and concerts, laughter and teasing? What about her?

She wiped tears away with her sleeves. "Is that why you've been so mean?" She cleared her throat. "You're trying to push all of us away so that it's easier for you… to leave?"

"…Yes."

"You should have just talked to us!" She leaned on her palms toward him. "We're your friends, Macbeth. We would have understood!"

He kept looking away. "How could anyone understand?"

"We all struggle with something, you know! We don't all share the same past as you, but each member of Fairy Tail has their own story. No one would judge you for thinking about going back to Oracion Seis now that you know they're free. They're like family to you. I understand that."

"If I go back to them, I'll be an enemy of Fairy Tail again." He met her eyes, face full of sorrow.

This was more emotion than she'd ever seen from this man, even on the night she found him in the wreckage of Nirvana.

"I don't want to lose Fairy Tail!" He put his face in his hands. "I started to think I could be something good here… I thought maybe I can… But I'll never be free from the Tower! It was all fake, every moment here!"

"That's not true," she said, sternly. This time, it was her turn to crawl next to him—to place her head on his shoulder and lean into him. "It's all real, Macbeth. All of it. And you are good." She smiled. "You're a good man."

"Liar." He pulled her close once more, breathing against her hair, trying to control his sobs. Then, in a broken voice through the strands of hair, against the delicate skin of her ear…

"I don't want to lose you."

Her breath caught in her throat, a blush spreading over her cheeks. She knew he was probably just acting like this because he was under a charm, but even so… That broken whisper against her skin while his arms held her close—it was enough to warrant a sigh of pleasure.

"Those things you said in the kitchen…" she clutched his collar and nuzzled against his hair as well, basking in the scent of chamomile and its sharp, rusty edge. "You didn't mean them, did you?"

His breath was so warm, lips so close to her flesh. "I'm sorry…" he sighed. "I'm sorry I made you cry." He said this while his own tears streaked her hair.

"Macbeth…" She leaned back and looked at him. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his. "You won't lose me." She swallowed hard. "I'm never going to leave you, okay? Even if…" The tears threatened to choke her. "Even if you go with the Oracion Seis. I'll still be here for you."

His eyes widened. He scanned her eyes, nose, lips, chin. "You can't be serious."

She laughed through sobs. Her sleeves wiped in futility at her leaking eyes. "If you think you'll find your freedom with them, then that's where you should go." The words contradicted everything her heart was screaming. "I want you to reach your goal, find your freedom, even if that's not with Fairy Tail. No matter what you choose… I'll still support… you."

"Why?" He stared incredulously at her.

"Because I—" the words lodged themselves in her throat. She looked down, averting her gaze. "You're my friend, and I want you to be happy." It wasn't enough. It wasn't the words she wanted to say, but she couldn't speak the real reason. Especially not now—when he might be planning to walk away.

The atmosphere changed. She felt the switch when she leaned her head back to meet his eyes again. He felt relieved. Less afraid. Almost… content.

"I know you'll make the right choice, Macbeth." She forced a smile, despite the turmoil in her heart. "I know you'll choose the path to freedom."

She couldn't take it anymore. If she stayed one more moment, she knew her emotions would boil out of control. She wanted to look strong—didn't want him to be burdened by her tears anymore. So, in a moment of inspiration, she lifted her head to press her lips quickly against his forehead, the way she would do when putting Syllest to bed. "I'll leave you alone now." He would need time to think and decide—and she wasn't sure she could stand to sit in his presence while he debated leaving Fairy Tail, and her, behind.

She started to slide off the bed, but was surprised when a hand clutched hers yet again.

"Don't go," he said, voice hoarse with emotion.

She looked back at him, the desperation in his eyes.

"Sleep with me," he commanded. It was the demanding whine of a child.

"I…" She gulped, feeling heat rise to her skin, even though she knew this was a completely innocent request. "Are you sure that won't damage your pride?" She laughed nervously, all the while acutely aware of his grip on her hand.

He stared, not saying a word. It was all written on his face. He was dead serious.

"It's like noon, you know." She sputtered out excuses while her fingers curled around his, without her permission. "I don't sleep all the time like you do."

"Dream…" His whiny voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down her spine. She saw the corner of his lip flicker in the faintest of smirks. He must have been feeling a little bit better to have found the energy to tease her, even if just slightly.

"O-Okay, okay." She laid down on his bed with a sigh, immediately burying her face in the blankets to hide her ungodly blush.

His arms slid around her and he burrowed against her back with a contented sigh. She prayed he wouldn't notice how stiff she was.

"I don't understand you," she whispered after a moment. "Half of the time, you're scarier than almost anyone I've ever met… The other half of the time, you're like this." Adorable. Vulnerable. "How am I ever supposed to relax when you're so unpredictable?"

"Sh." He nuzzled her hair. "I'm tired of talking." His voice suggested he was just tired in general.

"Sorry…" She whispered and tried to get more comfortable, an impossible task with his chest pressed against her, arms wrapped so snugly around her torso.

She listened to the slowing of his breaths. Felt his muscles slowly begin to relax as sleep began to overtake him. Occasionally he would breathe deeply against her hair and sigh. He mumbled sleepily at one point, "Don't leave…"

"I could say the same to you…" she whispered, knowing he wouldn't hear it. As she predicted, he began to snore. And once she knew he was asleep, she allowed herself to succumb to emotion. She cried into the blanket, lost in a cloud of pain and love and sorrow.

Please, don't leave, Macbeth. Please choose Fairy Tail. I don't want to lose you either.

Eventually, the tide of her own feelings pulled her into a sleep-state as well. Falling asleep in the arms of an ex-assassin… It was too much to comprehend. So, for the time being, she allowed herself to be in the moment. After all, come tomorrow, he could be gone… This night might be all that she had left, and now that she suspected how she really felt about this man, she refused to let it go to waste.

/

Sometime in the evening there was a rattling knock on the door. The reflector mage and emotion wizard were too deep in sleep to wake to it, however—sharing a dream, a brief lapse of time together.

"MAC! UNLOCK THIS DAMN DOOR!"

Macbeth's snores drowned out the furious dice-wizard.

"I swear to God, Mac, I'm gonna murder you's soon as you open this door!"

It was a good thing Piper had no idea Dreamer was in there with him, or he may have followed through on that promise. Instead, he grumbled a slew of obscenities and stomped off to spend the night in the guild hall.

/

In her dreams, Macbeth stood at her side. The ocean tide tugged at their bare feet. Syllestra ran in the waves. Piper laid on the beach with Cana while Romeo built a sand castle nearby. Jezran passed out lemonade. And chatting on a picnic table were the other members of Oracion Seis, laughing and snacking on mustard sandwiches with a beautiful woman. Her hair was longer than Dreamer's, face more mature. It was Rosy, dressed in the same white dress she was buried in, smiling the same way Dreamer remembered.

It was everything she ever wanted.

His fingers interlaced with hers. They looked toward the sunlit sky, basking in its warmth and hope. It may have been the sweetest dream she'd ever had… But late in the night, it faded away, already lost from her memory—leaving only the lingering sense of warmth. Until, that is, the cold touched her shoulders—the distinct lack of Macbeth's arms around her.

She sat up slowly in the dark. She didn't have to see to know.

He was already gone.