A/N: I know some people are a bit disappointed that there wasn't more to the Edolas arc, but I've been banging my head against my keyboard for quite a while now and the inspiration just isn't there at the moment. When the inspiration runs dry, you get terribly boring chapters. Hopefully, the inspiration will show up in the near future and I can just go back and add a chapter. Until then - onward!

Also, THANK YOU TO MY ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS!

Chapter 23: Clan

Jellal wasn't stupid. He had known from the beginning that Mystogan wasn't actually his twin brother, but it had been nice to pretend. Nice to look up sometimes and see another face that was marked as clan, as family.

Clan marks were rare in Fiore. It was an old and dying tradition, but then Jellal's family had come from a very traditional village. Clan marks were like guild marks, but they were always worn on the face and each clan member's mark was placed in the same location. In the Fernandes clan, any child who survived to the age of four received a clan mark. Jellal couldn't remember his parents' faces, but he remembered their proud smiles when he had been marked, and he remembered the matching marks that they bore. He'd grown up surrounded by faces marked with belonging.

Even though his clan was dead, Jellal's eyes still automatically scanned faces in crowds for a familiar clan mark – for family. It had been… such a relief to meet Mystogan. To finally see another face with family and belonging streaked over his right eye. Jellal was smart. He had been an only child – his village had been destroyed before he had the chance to become an older brother. He knew there was no secret identical twin for him to stumble across, but he didn't care. His eyes had seen 'family.' So he had grabbed ahold of Mystogan and called him his brother, because that's what the mark on his face meant. Mystogan had looked surprised and confused, but he had gone with it. Erza and Simon had simply accepted Jellal's assessment, because they trusted him. Simon was still looking for his sister after all – no one knew if she had survived Rosemary's destruction.

Jellal rarely saw Mystogan. His adoptive twin was almost always on the road. They got along well, though. They had played a few pranks on the locals and older guild members when they were younger. Only Simon and Erza could ever easily tell them apart. Jellal had a picture of all four of them together plus a reluctant Erik from a Fantasia Parade a few years ago.

Every time he saw Mystogan something old and deep-rooted inside of him relaxed and whispered clan.

And now he was gone, and Jellal hadn't even been able to say goodbye. Erza had told him and Simon all about Edolas, and Erik had passed on Mystogan's final words of farewell. Finding out that Mystogan was actually an alternate version of himself really hadn't been all that surprising. It made sense. The only thing that had really differentiated them had been their speech patterns and scars. Not even real identical twins were than identical. The loss still ached.

Jellal put down his book with a sigh. He couldn't focus. He'd read the same paragraph four times now, and he still had no idea what it had said. It had been two days since the guild had celebrated Lisanna's return from the dead and Erza had told him that Mystogan was gone. Two days since the last person marked as 'clan' disappeared from his life. Jellal ran a hand through his hair.

He was being so childish. He had Simon and Erza. A whole guild full of friends. The loss of one man who shared his face shouldn't upset him so much. But then, by now Jellal really should know better than to rely on logic when it came to grief. It never worked out well.

"You're allowed to be upset, you know."

Jellal jerked his head up guiltily. He hadn't heard Erik sit down.

"Pardon?"

"You're allowed to be upset about Mystogan." Erik scratched under Cubelios's chin, carefully not looking him in the eye. "I'm going to miss him, too."

Jellal glance over at the bar where Mirajane had carefully positioned Lisanna so that she would be able to keep an eye on her from almost anywhere in the guildhall.

"It seems… selfish to be depressed right now."

"Grieving is only ever selfish if you allow it to consume you, body and soul."

Jellal glanced sideways. Erik was still pointedly not looking at him.

"When did you get so philosophical?" The only answer he received this time was a shrug. Erik was apparently done dispensing wisdom for the day.

Silence stretched between them. Cubelios, seemingly sensing the mood, pushed her snout against Jellal's arm and then rested her chin on his shoulder. Jellal recognized it as a gesture of comfort normally reserved for Erik. He rubbed one of her eye ridges in thanks. A few more minutes past.

"Okay, no." Erik grabbed him by the back of the collar and started dragging Jellal towards the doors.

"What?!" Jellal yelped.

"You can't properly grieve when you're surrounded by happy people. It just doesn't work," grumbled Erik, not loosening his hold on the back of Jellal's coat.

"At least, let me take my book!"

"You weren't actually reading that anyway."

It was really annoying that Erik was right.

Outside was bright and sunny, but it had three less Strauss siblings than the inside of the guildhall. It shouldn't have been as much of a relief as it was. Erik seemed to be dragging him away from Fairy Tail grounds entirely.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Erza and Simon," Jellal protested weakly, but his heart wasn't really in it.

"Alright then." Erik slowed and raised his voice, "Hey, Droy! When Simon and Erza get here, tell them I took Jellal over to the central park!" Droy gave a nod and a thumbs up. "There – problem solved."

Jellal gave up protesting after that. Erik dumped him under the massive tree that still bore the scars of Gajeel's iron spikes and then settled between the roots next to him. Cubelios draped her massive head across Erik's lap, looking for affection. The breeze rustled their hair. Neither of them spoke.

Jellal leaned his head back against the rough bark, closed his eyes, and let himself remember. It was so much less painful than trying to lock all the hurt away at the back of his mind.

Time past. Jellal didn't know how much.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

Jellal blinked open his eyes and looked up….

Clan.

Erza and Simon were smiling down at him, each with family and belonging streaked over their right eye. Jellal gaped at them. Something very small and young inside of him unfurled and reached out. He stretched out, pulled Erza down, and gently traced the swirls of deep red on her cheek. He'd never been able to articulate his need for 'clan' to them very well. It was hard to explain to people who hadn't grown up with it. But maybe… maybe they had understood better than he had thought.

"It's henna," Erza explained. She was studying his face carefully, making certain that they hadn't unintentionally upset him.

"You're ours, and we're yours," Simon continued. He crouched down next to Erza. "I don't see why we shouldn't have that written on our faces sometimes."

Erza nodded, firm and solemn.

Jellal could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, and he honestly didn't care. He latched onto Erza and Simon and simply let himself cry. The combination of gratitude, happiness, and grief was simply too overwhelming.

"Thank you."