I'm drowning in a sea of black and red. She is the midnight sky kissed by fire. She speaks and its ember and smoke. My head is dead.

Her perfume is honeysuckle, sweet and dizzying. Her skin is alabaster, bright and clear and distracting. For a moment, I look at her and see that her eyes are the deepest, blackest things I've ever known. Abyss holes. Voids. Beautiful in their own right, and terrifying in their ability to swallow me whole. They could make me forget.

Forget...

Everything.

But then I blink and realize that her orbs are brown. And warm. Not black and hollow and cold at all. I've been slipping again. She speaks and her cherry-red lips move; it's hard to focus on what she's saying; too distracted. A false smile and some cliché words take the place of everything I want to say but can't. Not yet.

Her throat bobs. I want to wrap my hands around it and kiss it. Though, if I started, I would never stop there. With certainty, I would push her against the wall; I don't even care that the room is full; I imagine fucking her there; I imagine making love to her there. Lifting her up and wrapping her legs around my waist, then moving the skirt of her dress aside and plunging into her. I imagine a world where she'd let me. I imagine her opening her mouth and sobbing. Is she crying, or moaning? First one and then the other. First the other than one. Maybe while she shivered and came I'd ask why she left me at the Tower of Heaven. Abandoned me when I needed her most. Maybe I'd get hasty and

Cut

Her open before we get back. Maybe… maybe she'd understand. Fuck. I hate her so much. So much that I love her. Or maybe I love her so much that I hate her.

With his hand pressing into the small of her back, Jellal guided Erza up the path to the council building. He kept expecting her to pull away, and indeed, her spine was as stiff as a stick, but it seemed she couldn't quite make herself do it. She likes the way it feels. A smile crept onto his face. It faded away just as quickly, swallowed in a bitter wave. Back and forth he was dragged, torn between wanting to fawn over her and scream until he felt as mad as a hatter. His eyes slid over to her and got stuck that way, snagging on the plump curve of her lip and the dusting of freckles over her delicate nose. How could she be the fierce Erza Scarlet? She looked as fragile as a too-ripe peach, soft and giving and on the verge of collapse if he squeezed too hard. Without his permission, his fingers tightened in the fabric of her coat.

She gave him a startled look as soon as she felt that. Jellal made himself loosen his hold and turned his eyes back to the path.

They just kept drifting back; she was a sun he couldn't help but bask under until the soil parched and he died.

Erza caught him staring. Jellal expected a question. She turned her eyes away and studied her surroundings. Jellal followed her gaze. Partygoers lined the front of the building. Some had cigars and cigarettes in their mouths and drinks in their hands, others just stood there, only interested in socializing. His lungs burned walking through a cloud of grey smoke. It smelled awful. He wanted a cigarette himself. It wasn't likely to take the edge away but it would give his fingers something to do when they wanted to tangle in Erza's hair, when they wanted to pull at her dress and see what was beneath. When they wanted to dole out the same pain she'd caused him.

Jellal nodded to a few council members, and then some governmental officials, men and women in fine dresses, with elaborate weaves and bright mouths when their lips curled up in hello.

Erza looked so uncomfortable that Jellal asked, "What is it?"

"I don't belong here," she said.

She was right. None of these people were her people; they'd spent their lives gripping pens and floating off family money—what did they know of calluses and scars and sweat and hard, honest work? Nothing. Jellal didn't let himself sympathize too much, though. Erza left the Tower of Heaven. She didn't know much, either. He smiled and said, "You're fine." And Erza smiled back. He loved that smile. He loved to hate it.

At the entrance, a concierge in a tuxedo grabbed open the door and held it for them. Jellal urged Erza in first, just to watch her discomfort grow. He wasn't disappointed. Her shoulders stiffened and her steps got wooden. He wanted to say something to comfort her and he wanted her to suffer. How could it be both?

It was with great effort that he looked away from her to study the room. It was wide and filled to the brim with noisy people. Along the far wall was a bar, though the counter was so full, Jellal couldn't see it. Men and women in tuxedos cruised the room, ducking in and out of people, holding aloft trays stuffed with food and drinks. At the front of the room was a tall stage.

Currently, an empty podium took up its center. Soon, the chairman would go up, say a few words, then an orchestra would take his place and the evening would really begin. The floor underfoot was gleaming marble. As soon as Erza's flimsy heel touched on it, she wobbled. Jellal was glad for the opportunity to stabilize her with a hand on her elbow. He kept it there even after she'd found her footing and Erza let him.

A woman waited at the coat check and smiled prettily. In her hand was a clipboard. "Master Siegrain."

"And my date, Erza Scarlet," Jellal said and felt Erza tense.

"Well—" Erza started.

The woman spoke over her. "Will you be signing our guest book?"

Erza let it go, smiling fleetingly and toeing her way over to where the book rested on a tall stand. Jellal waited for her to finish up and step aside, then took her place. His eyes were drawn to her name. Erza Scarlet. It pleased him that she still used the name he gave her all those years ago. She must think of me every time she says it; every single time she writes it.

Erza Scarlet. It was printed in the reddest ink, the lines used to form it thin and scratchy. Unthinkingly, he ran his finger over Scarlet and smeared the T.

"Can I take your coat?"

"Yes, that would be kind of you."

The sound of Erza's voice brought him back to himself. Hastily, Jellal wrote out Siegrain Fernandez under Erza and turned. Erza was just unbuttoning her long, black coat. The baggy material fell away like shadows in the coming light and exposed the clingy black cloth beneath. The dress was halter-style, dipping low enough in the front that the tops of her breasts were exposed. Just below the hollow of her throat lay red garnet, ember-bright. The jewel glittered in the false overhead light, drawing his eyes in and keeping them there. It was nearly the colour of blood against her skin. It looked intoxicating on her. He thought he'd stare at it forever, trapped, then she turned, and a long slice of leg caught his eye and pulled him in while it peeped out through a slit in the skirt of her dress. The skin there looked smooth. So badly he wanted to touch it. Badly enough, he almost did right there.

Not yet. Soon.

Erza caught him looking. Jellal met her eyes and smiled. Despite that, he thought she saw the real him in that moment, not Siegrain the pretender. Jellal didn't have too much time to relish that as a short, round man approached.

"Siegrain, so glad you could make it. There was a lot of speculation surrounding your attendance—and indeed, I see you haven't made it past the door. Not planning on escaping, are you?" His eyes were jovial and kind.

Jellal clapped him on the back companionably. "Not tonight, Crawford."

Crawford nodded and focused on Erza. "And this must be the famous Erza Scarlet of Fairy Tail. Siegrain told us all you'd be joining him. To salvage his honour, he said. I fear the other council members gave him quite the hard time."

Jellal knew his smile was paper-thin but couldn't fix it. He saved all of his best ploys for Erza. "Yes. Well, I suppose the other members of the council don't know what it's like to be robbed. It's not something I've come to expect. I don't know when treasure hunters got so bold."

"Strange times."

Jellal turned to Erza and played the role of her date. "Sorry, Erza, this is Chairman Crawford Seam."

"Oh—" Erza fumbled and stuck out her hand. "Chairman—nice to meet you—" Erza's smile belied her disdain. Jellal saw through her and even thought he knew why. Crawford's hands were soft and round and always clammy. He was another pencil holder.

"Likewise." Crawford released her hand. Jellal wanted to pick it up and give her another touch to think about. He resisted. Crawford said, "Well, I must continue greeting guests, but don't be shy, Erza. I should like to hear of the guild life—it's not something I get to entertain often." He nodded his head and waved absently, then he was gone.

Erza breathed out. "I didn't expect to meet the chairman face-to-face."

"You did wonderful," Jellal said automatically.

When she blushed with his compliment, he felt confident enough to touch her back again and corralled her deeper into the council building. It looked like she wanted to duck out of his hold. She never did, though. He wondered if it was because she was trying to be polite. He wondered if he cared.

Not, because her eyes were on him, taking in his clothes, his hair, his smile in a way she had yet to do. Somehow, her expression was both strained and wistful. He couldn't stop his ear-to-ear grin. Then chastised himself for the pleasure he felt. Her torment was his goal, not his own ego-stroking. He decided he needed some space to keep his head clear. "Would you like some champagne?"

Erza latched onto his offer. "Yes."

Jellal tugged her toward one of the empty tables filling the center of the room and pulled out a high-backed chair for her. "Stay here, and I'll just be a minute." Before she could say a word, he left her there.

Erza sat down, adjusted her dress, and crossed her legs. Then she just stared after Siegrain shamelessly, enjoying the way his shoulders filled out his suit and the way he walked with such confidence until her line of sight was filled with a tall, sour looking man with long, grey hair.

"Miss Scarlet."

She scoured her mind for his name. He was definitely familiar. It was someone she should know.

"Gran Doma," he offered with annoyance when he noticed her struggle. "Though, I thought given the amount of apology letters Fairy Tail has submitted, you would have remembered by now."

Erza felt her cheeks heat. "Yes, sir, my apologies." It wasn't what she wanted to say, but Master was in her head, chirping away. "Sometimes, our members can be… overzealous."

"If I recall correctly, your name is often on the top of those letters. It is unwise to shirk the blame." His words were cutting, his eyes judgmental. "I saw the report that came out of Clover just last month."

Erza wrung her hands together. Clover… Clover was an accident—a miscalculation of magical power needed… She couldn't deny that the town was nearly destroyed because of it. "I accept responsibility for my actions," she said in a strained voice. "Though, I can assure you, situations like what happened in Clover aren't very common."

He snorted in disbelief. "You're delusional—the same thing will be across my desk next month. Not that it matters. I can assure you that soon, problem guilds like Fairy Tail will find it difficult moving into the future."

Erza felt her mouth go dry. "Fairy Tail is not a problem-"

"Fairy Tail is the very definition—"

Siegrain reappeared at that moment, brandishing two fluted glasses. "Gran. Are you harassing my guest?"

"Educating," the man said coolly. "Wizards like her—"

"Are a large reason why Fiore isn't overrun by dark guilds," he interjected smoothly before Erza could say anything. "Here, Erza." He handed over her drink. She almost didn't catch the glass, but then remembered what her fingers were supposed to do and clutched the thin stem. Siegrain held her eyes and clinked their glasses together. "To your fine work."

She wasn't satisfied, but the look Siegrain gave her was full of warning. "Thank you." She took a sip of the dry alcohol.

Gran Doma let out a huffy breath then turned on his heel and shuffled away in silence and a swirl of robes.

"Don't mind stuffy old fools like him, you're an amazing woman and mage, even if you cause ripples in the council." Siegrain said the last effortlessly and finished with a smile.

Erza was caught between puffing up with pride, unfurling with his compliment, and blushing with embarrassment. She bounced right over his praises, unsure of how to take them, and focused on something larger than herself. "It was never Fairy Tail's intention to cause ripples."

"Nonsense." He pulled out a tall backed chair and dropped himself into it, then leaned in so they were almost nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye.

Too close. Erza felt paralyzed.

"No one wants to slide under the bar unnoticed," Siegrain continued, apparently oblivious to their nearness. "Besides, I think this place needs some excitement. And, if it means you have to make more written apologies, you can just submit them to me and I will deal with them directly. I won't complain," he added, "So far, I've found your company quite enjoyable."

Erza knew she turned as red as her hair. There wasn't anything she could do about it. Except lean away some. It took her some time to recover, but when she did, she opened her mouth to tell him to back off. Movement up on the stage made her clam up.

Chairman Crawford waddled up to the podium, looking sweaty and sallow under the glowing overhead light. "Good evening, esteemed ladies and gentleman, welcome to the twenty-fifth Council Ball. As you know, a silent auction will be held to raise money to help support our efforts in eradicating dark guilds. You'll find art and products donated by local artisans and—"

Erza tuned out and sipped her drink until it was done. Siegrain noticed and immediately flagged down another server brandishing champagne. Erza was going to refuse but then thought better of it. It wasn't every night she got to dress up and go out. It wasn't every night she spent with his double.

To outrun her guilty conscience, she tossed back the alcohol almost in one go. Siegrain raised a brow but didn't say anything. In fact, he seemed to smile, almost pleased.

Eventually, the chairman exited the stage and an orchestra took his place. They started up, flutes and violins leaking out a thready, mulling tune. Erza looked at Siegrain from the corner of her eye. His gaze was glued to her skin, a vague smile on his face.

"So, I have to assume being a ten wizard saint, you could have retrieved your pin on your own," Erza filled the silence. "Those treasure hunters weren't very powerful. Why did you hire me?" She couldn't tell if she was waiting for his praise or if she was actually curious.

Siegrain's vague smile dropped away. "Politics. I'm not allowed to do a job like that on my own. Just in case it goes south, then the council looks bad. You know."

Erza stuck out her lip. "Seems restraining, being in your position."

He shrugged. "It has its benefits. Status, influence. By the same token, it seems restraining, working for a guild. Rules, regulations, fees."

"Fairy Tail has been my family for as long as I can remember," Erza said automatically. "They took me in when I had nowhere else to turn."

Siegrain's expression turned sour for only a second and then it was gone. Abruptly, he changed the subject. "Would you like to dance?"

Erza bit her cheek hard. "Dance?" No, no, no. Say no. You have to draw the line somewhere.

He stood and held out his hand.

Erza looked up into his familiar face. His dark eyes stripped her bare, made her want to say and do stupid things. Even this. It doesn't mean anything. She downed the very last drop of her champagne for good measure, then, ignoring his hand as if that would make it any better, stood and walked to the center of the room where, already, men and women were twirling together. As she moved, she wondered if she'd insulted him. A quick look over her shoulder told her that not only did Siegrain follow, he had that admiring look in his eye again, as if fascinated by everything she did. Seeing that made her want to clutch her elbows and run for the door. There was a time where she was foolish enough to think all the skeletons in her closet couldn't linger, but now, looking at Siegrain, she knew all the bones were coming out to dance, and she felt hopeless but to watch.

Erza didn't stop until she was at the center of the dance floor, then, on shaking legs, turned and faced Siegrain. He wasn't shy when he stepped into her and grabbed her around the waist. It couldn't be helped, she trembled like a leaf as soon as he made contact with her body and pulled her in close. His scent was in her nose and his hands. They were all she could feel. For a heartbeat, they squeezed too hard, pushing her almost to the point of pain. Then he eased up. And horrifically, tickled over the place where her underwear should be. She knew he knew that she wore nothing beneath her dress. Even more horrifically? She wasn't as embarrassed as she thought she'd be. How could she be when he looked at her like that?

"Erza…"

When he said her name like that?

Erza had to look away from him and she couldn't respond. She made herself lift her hands up so they cupped his shoulder, then waited. They stood together, unmoving for a beat too long, then Siegrain seemed to remember that they were supposed to dance. Taking in a ragged breath, he moved his feet as he was supposed to.

His voice rasped in Erza's ear. "Have you ever been to a ball like this before?"

It was so easy for Erza to close her eyes and pretend that it was Jellal pressing against her, asking her questions. She kept them open and tried to focus on the facts. "Mmm… Not really like this. Sometimes, clients will invite us to parties, but…" Siegrain leaned back and watched her greedily as she spoke. It was like he couldn't look away. Behind her back, he experimentally swirled his fingers over where her panty line should have been. "Nothing quite like this," Erza finished hastily, then, squashing her reserve and shyness, grabbed his hand and moved it up to a more appropriate region. That helped mitigate some of her anxiety. Not all, but she'd take anything by this point.

Siegrain wasn't abashed as she hoped. He only smiled his familiar smile and looked down at her with knowing eyes.

They drifted in a small circle; Erza couldn't tell if it was in time with the music or not. On one of their rotations, she misplaced her foot and stepped hard on his shiny black shoe. He winced, but recovered quickly.

"Sorry." Erza's neck burned.

He didn't accept her apology. "You're tense."

Am I so transparent? Yes. "It's nothing."

His responding grin was cutting and eager. "Are you sure it's not me that's bothering you?"

Erza pursed her lips. "You're direct, aren't you?"

"I never had much use for trivial niceties. The world would be a better place if people said what they were thinking and meant what they said."

It was a sentiment she shared.

"Is it because I look like him?"

Erza's feet stopped moving and her hands slackened around his shoulders. "I—"

"I'm not my brother."

And wasn't that the real problem? "Excuse me." Abruptly, she pulled out of his grasp, not sure where she was going but knowing that she needed to get away.