I meant to write something humorous for this chapter, but... the cap on the angst shaker fell off.
It had never been Mirajane's original intent to become a barmaid at Fairy Tail.
After she had lost her sister, she found herself afraid to leave the guild hall. No… she had been terrified . The guild had been safety for so long. Jobs meant danger. Jobs meant losing her family.
And then… it became a moot point, when her powers refused to answer her call. She knew why. It had never been a mystery, at least to Mirajane herself. She had seen what her overconfidence has cost, when her brother's power overwhelmed him, and then she had held the consequences in her arms as Lisanna's life faded. Her powerlessness that day haunted her dreams and her every waking moment. It was never far from her thoughts, no matter how much her guildmates had tried to comfort and mourn beside her.
Mirajane's own takeovers were… much, much worse in nature than her brother's. More violent, more bloodthirsty. If the cost of her brother's magic was the loss of their sister, what would happen if she was to ever lose control?
She couldn't ever allow that to happen. Never. Lisanna was gone, but Mirajane was still Elfman's older sister. He would never suffer Lisanna's fate at Mirajane's hands.
Eventually, she couldn't call for it even when she wanted the power.
It was such a relief.
But that had left her with a new problem. For Mirajane hated staying still. So much of her life had been fueled by adrenaline, of keeping herself constantly moving and fighting and caring for her siblings. Part-time modeling gigs for her friend at Sorcerer Weekly did not pay the bills. Not yet. Jason was rising fast at the magazine but even once he had it was still just a single paying gig. And although it was fun to do it occasionally, Mirajane didn't find enough thrill in it to make it her new career. Leaving the guild to pursue it was off the table as well.
One day, after the latest roughhousing between Gray and Natsu had led to splitters of broken furniture and glass strewn across the guild, Mirajane had picked up a broom and started cleaning up the aftermath. It was partly out of exasperation, partly out of concern for Elfman hurting himself on the debris, and partly out of complete boredom.
But then when she was done, she felt a sense of accomplishment that she hadn't felt in months. It was physical work, and she enjoyed stretching out her muscles again. The cleanliness of the floor was a tangible proof that she had made a small difference in the guild. That there might still be something the guild needed from her, now that she could no longer fight for it.
When Makarov paid her for her efforts, Mirajane instantly said yes to his offer to become an in-house worker for the guild. There was a lot that needed managing and upkeep, and Makarov needed the help. She was an older sister through and through. She needed to be needed. Elfman was taking up jobs once again, and lacking someone to take care of, taking care of the guild as a whole didn't sound so bad to her. Eventually, it morphed into her current duties as a bartender and housekeeper for her beloved guild. And it had lead to her connecting to so many more of the members than before. Their companionship was welcome, and slowly, the ache in her heart where a Lisanna-shaped hole resided, began to fade just a little.
However, it had been torn open once again by her own actions.
She should have known better after what happened before, when Cana carried Mystogan to the infirmary. Mirajane had plenty of experience under her belt as a bartender now. She shouldn't have kept plying Mystogan with drinks last night. The sight of him staggering up from the basement, and falling on his face on the stairs trying to reach his office, and of a half-sober Mickey Chickentiger rushing him to Porlyusica's in her arms danced behind Mirajane's eyelids every time she closed her eyes.
Where had the night gone wrong? The party had started off so well. Everyone was drinking, having a great time. Mystogan was surrounded by happy guild members. The drapes had caught fire, sure, but that was quickly extinguished by Alzack. Then the toilets began to back up and Mystogan had left to use the other toilet, which Mirajane hadn't thought much of at the time. Eventually someone (Cana or Loke most likely) had gotten the bright idea to play Pin The Clothes On Gray (an old favorite) which led to some mild snowing indoors (all the better for curtailing further small fires). All in all, it had been a successful night, with the party spilling out into the backyard and the streets thanks to the unexpected snowfall.
Until the guild master reappeared, his head bleeding and mumbling about going back to bed before tripping on the bottom step of the stairs and falling face first into them.
The sight of the blood and Mystogan's prone form on the stairs had doused Mirajane with old terror, familiar and icy cold. She had frozen in her tracks, unable to move or breathe as Makarov took control of the situation. The old man had refused to allow Erza to help, instead allowing Mickey to volunteer her bird Pi-chan and herself to get the young guild master to Porlyusica quickly. It was only after the guild doors had closed behind them that she found herself able to move once more.
So she did what she always did after a guild party - she began cleaning up the mess. It was almost automatic. She took Mickey's stained clothes upon her return and gave her a spare outfit she kept for herself in case of kitchen and bar accidents, and passed out blankets and pillows for the ones that remained behind, either too worried or drunk to stumble home.
What a fool she was; hurt by him not trusting her like he trusted Cana, when she was clearly not even worthy of that trust. She couldn't even protect him from the guild staircase, let alone whatever secrets seemed to torment the quiet man.
Eventually, Mirajane herself passed out on a barstool, her head cradled in her arms on the countertop. Despite her worry, and her desire to see Mystogan's condition herself, it had been a long day and her mind could not override her body's yearning for rest.
When she awoke, she made breakfast and went through the familiar routine of her day, waiting for news.
It came in the form of a gentle, wrinkled hand on her arm, causing her to yelp in alarm and drop the glass she had been absentmindedly polishing. It fell to the floor and shattered.
"Oh dear, my apologies," Makarov said, withdrawing his hand. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to startle you."
Shakily, Mirajane reached for the broom to sweep up the mess. "No, I wasn't paying attention. I'll…" A hiccup overtook her, as tears began to well in her eyes. "I wasn't… I wasn't paying attention. It's all… it's all my fault!"
"Hush, hush." Makarov reached out to her once again and she bent to accept the embrace he offered her. "It's not your fault, Mira." He rubbed soothing circles on her back and kept repeating, "It's not your fault," until her mini-sobs began to subside. It was another long minute before she finally pulled away from his comforting arms. "Mystogan is alright," he informed her, accurately gauging the true cause of her distress. "He's going to take a couple of days to rest, but he's alright."
Her weary heart warmed in relief. "Thank goodness. I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't okay."
Makarov patted her arm once more. "You have a big heart, Mira."
"What good is that, if I can't help the people I care about?"
The old man let out a soft sigh. "Your kindness helps people more than you realize. And besides, it really isn't your fault. In fact, it's mine." Her look of confusion spurred him to add, "I'm afraid I can't go into more details than that. But trust me when I say that it was a failure on my part, and my part alone."
That was when Mirajane noticed the puffiness around Makarov's eyes, the red rims and tear streaks that hadn't quite faded in the walk back from Porlyusica's cabin to the guild. "How could it possibly be your fault?" she questioned, unable to reconcile the admission with her recollection of the events that transpired the night before.
"It very much is," Makarov told her. Then he patted her arm once more. "Why don't you go home for the day? I'll handle anything that comes up here."
Reluctantly, she agreed. Gathering her coat and keys, Mirajane cast one look back before she completely exited the building. Makarov sat at the bar, looking old and tired.
As she made her way down the street, her feet turned away from the direction of her dorm, and towards Porlyusica's cabin in Magnolia's outskirts.