Sorry, sorry, sorry. Life got taken over first by Noragami (which is adorable) then by vacation, and lastly by school and a thing called Dutch Dance. Props and kudos if you can tell me what that is and where in the USA it takes place (and even more of them if you actually read this).

So. Chapter eight. Yup. Here it is. Watch out for some other oneshots that I'm going to be throwing up, sooner than later, hopefully. And I'm working on a multi-chaptered story right now, too. I just don't know if I should post as I write, or write it all out and then post...Dilemmas, dilemmas.

Read and enjoy. I don't own Fairy Tail.

~MM~

As one of Lucy's Celestial Spirits, Cancer is incredibly in-tune with his master's feelings. When Lucy is angry, the equilibrium he and the other spirits find in her magic is warped and disrupted; a jagged landscape of how dare you's and this is my pride; all in writhing red and spiraling deep maroons. When Lucy is sad and sorrowful, her magic is a melting pot of grays and blues, sometimes a flash of green in a sea of how did this happen and I have to keep fighting, no matter what. Happiness is confidence and purples reflecting in the crystal halls where all of her spirits gather; royal violets and striking electric mauves mixed with the rosy, self-assured waves of subtle oranges, yellows, and pinks. Envy is sparking highlighters of lime and lemon that shudder through the walls and vibrate against the thought of why can't it be me and I wish that I had that. Calm is sea foam. Infatuation is a jumpy fuchsia. Hate is insidious and black and rare and her father and his house. Love is white and clean; immaculate and too bright to stare at.

(Salmon, for whatever reason, has been appearing more often than not; but Cancer doesn't dwell on it, because Lucy has always been prone to switching her colors by whim. Vermillion yesterday, sunset today, and midnight tomorrow. But salmon is nervous like fuchsia and lazy like yellow. It's mixed with white and orange. It is also, undeniably, pink. Cancer doesn't read into it too much, wishing that Capricorn or Leo was around to help him out with this. Even Aquarius might do better – though her warnings serve little purpose in the grand scheme of things.)

It's one of the days when Lucy is beyond mad. In fact, Cancer doesn't think that he's ever seen her this angry before. There had been days, in her father's house, when the maroons danced and slithered across her magic's walls, leaking into the Spirit World, and reds shrouded the air with blood lust and a need for some kind of destruction, but today is different. Lucy's anger is self-righteous and it's with the damaged pride of everything she is – which is a writer, a mage, a woman, and Lucy of Fairy Tail – and it is so flooded with salmon and rose that Cancer can't tell if what he sees as he's called from his world is a flash of an actual person, or just another reflection glancing off the hard glassy walls of Lucy's mind. It must be a reflection, he thinks as time and space shift around him, because there's no way a human can hitch a ride with a spirit through the Spirit World and then back to the human world. And no one in their right mind would hop a ride with Virgo, of all spirits.

Everything that may have concerned him before falls away as Cancer finds himself in a sewer tunnel; a small, ratty, fat man with a horrid mustache – something that Cancer takes as a personal affront – glaring something of a leer and a snarl, all combined over a ridiculously bloated lip, to come across as some sort of perverse smirk. It was horrifying, in all reality, but Cancer asks anyway – to keep the atmosphere light, to judge his mistress' mood, to get his bearings for a minute – if Lucy would like a new hair style. She does not, but Cancer knew that and takes no offense, but she does want him to give that lecherous man a new hair cut – or tendon cut, she doesn't specify which, and Cancer feels like he could swing either way at the moment with Lucy-ebi's angry magic roiling around him and his own immediate distaste for the man-thing in front of him.

Then the rat-man opens his mouth to shout out his command, a chubby hand around a glistening key that nearly has Cancer blanching in revulsion – Virgo's key, his sister in the stars, family in magic, looks horrendous in that man's hands, and just when Cancer thinks himself braced for her appearance, she comes out looking like a gorilla; he consciously has to keep his knees locked in place. He knows that Virgo prefers a smaller appearance, something more demure and a bit cleaner, and he hates that she thinks she has to make herself perfect for her masters – but he doesn't hate her nearly a much as he hates the man who has such a demented vision of perfection.

If Cancer could have it his way, all spirits would belong to his mistress. Lucy was fair; prone to emotional outbreaks and petty at times (always using Horologium when it suits her needs), but she never abuses her contracts – no matter what Aquarius might say – and she loves them. Loves them like they're people and home and family and heart. Loves them like others love their power and strength and status. Cancer may have a slight bias, but he's been living for a long time and has never seen anyone quite like Lucy when it comes to her spirits.

The arrival of Natsu shakes Cancer out of his musings and his fury, which he realizes was probably part his and part not, but he can't seem to care much. After all, one doesn't think about much other than that's not possible when it becomes apparent that a human just came through the Celestial Gate with Virgo.

Salmon is the first thing Cancer recognizes – well, actually, it's the hair, but Cancer always notices the hair first and the hair and color pretty much come in the same second, anyway – and he wonders if this is perhaps what he saw, coming out of the Spirit World. Time flows differently there – but that isn't all that important in face of that color.

It's the color that lines the halls and washes over his skin when he's walking Lucy's magic. It's the color that jumps nervously like fuchsia and is lazy like orange. It's the color that's self-assured and needs assurance and is like needing to impress. It's loud and subtle and it's the boy.

Cancer's shocked to the point of stupefaction and almost drops his scissors, but he holds on, tightens his grip, and now there's another emotion lying under the surface of his skin. This boy is salmon. Cancer doesn't know what that color means to Lucy, he can't read her heart anymore than he can read her mind, but he knows her emotions like the back of his hand and all there is inside her is the fluttering need to impress and belong.

Now Cancer is caught between wanting to slash Everloo to ribbons and wanting to interrogate The Salmon Boy within an inch of his life.

Lucy calls out the boy's name – Natsu, that's his name, summer like pink flowers and bright colors and fire and warmth and heat – and Cancer tenses, ready to go after Everloo is he makes a move and ready to defend Lucy if anything else comes her way.

Then, like he's been doing a lot, Cancer is stopped stupid.

Just as Lucy's emotions reach critical – the situation spiraling out of her control and her comfort zone; what she knows about Celestial Spirits being tossed in her face like a slap – and her magic starts snapping like miss-fired synapses and deflating like someone saying I failed, Natsu, Salmon Boy, defers.

"Lucy! What should I do?" And just like that, the confidence comes in with a flood of purple pleasure and the drowning out of insecure blue. Authoritative blocks of I am in control are outlined in bold strokes of thick, thick colors – shadows cast by a hazy incomplete dominance of red and white.

She's all certainty and half-heiress, half-Fairy Tail; digging in her heels and screaming out her orders.

Natsu follows them without question.

When Cancer is sent back after complementing his mistress and giving a careful once over in the direction of the Fire Mage whose name is summer, Lucy's entire mind-castle, all glass chandeliers and picture-windows, watery walls, and flatteringly distorted reflections, is bathed in a light somewhere mixed with carnation pink and coral; daffodils and hydrangeas litter the floors, crystal flowers growing from a crystal ground in a perfect, gem heart.

Cancer makes sure to pick a few and put them in a vase, hoping that pink is a color he can get used to quickly enough (because he has the feeling that he'll be seeing it a whole lot more in the future).

~MM~

Again, so sorry this is late. Once this week ends and I get a couple hours of sleep, these will turn out a lot faster.

Oh, and because I'm a sucker for symbolism, in Hanakotoba or, that is, the Japanese Flower Language, daffodils mean respect and hydrangeas mean pride.

I apologize for my over use of symbolism. If you think I should tune it down a bit, please tell me. Also tell me if you see any errors, because I think I switched to present tense half way through.

As always, R&R Please!