Well, that happened. Or rather, didn't happen. Never mind! I'm back with my traditional birthday/anniversary-of-being-on-FanFiction chapter, with one of the trickiest characters in the canon to write.

Chapter 3 – Low Tide

"Oh so this is where ya went."

Fried jumped, then winced as the incautious movement pulled at still-strained muscles. "Oh. It's just you."

"Who'd ya think it was?" Bixlow asked, dropping heavily onto the sofa opposite Fried's chair in the hospital waiting room and sprawling inelegantly across the whole of it. "'s'not like there's anyone else around here apart from Ever and Scary Medicine Lady."

"Scary!"

"Scary!"

"Scaaaary!" That one was Pippi, who had never liked hospitals.

Fried raised a hand as Poppo hovered over to him, offering a carved wing for a strange version of a high-five. "So where did you go?"

Bixlow shrugged. "Just wandered around. Magnolia looks weird with the guild building gone. Bunch 'a people asked me how you and Ever and Laxus were, so I told 'em you were sulking and the other two were fine."

"They are not fine and I am not sulking. I am tired and in pain and -"

"And really, really worried about Laxus, I know, me too." Bixlow tilted his head so that he was looking almost straight at Fried. "I'm messing with ya. I just said we all still needed time to recover, nothing else. Anyway, you're more exhausted than I thought if you're gonna just admit it flat out like that."

Fried didn't bother replying to that. For a short time, silence lay between them, stiff with unasked and unanswered questions. Fried could feel his body protesting the effort he had exerted earlier in the day, and resigned himself to a second uncomfortable, sleepless night. He was going to have to be more careful. The damage was heavier than he had thought and if he couldn't sleep because of it then healing was going to be a long and drawn-out process. Bixlow seemed to catch some of his thoughts on his face, because he leant forwards and asked "Hey, you okay? I mean, apart from all the stuff I already know about. Really okay, not just tellin' me you are."

There was no quick answer to that, at least not one that wasn't wildly inaccurate, and he didn't have the energy to put the long answer into sentences that made enough sense. "Not really," he said finally, when Bixlow showed no sign of asking another, easier question. "But you already knew that. It's fine. I'm just tired, mostly."

"D'ya think you'd sleep better if you weren't so worried about him?"

The question was quiet and spoken in such a tone that Fried knew Bixlow already knew the answer. "Probably," he admitted. "It's not just him, though. Every time I closed my eyes last night, I kept thinking one of you had stopped breathing because it was so quiet, and kept getting up to check."

Bixlow's mouth twisted. "You're doin' that too? Hell, man, that sucks. I kept doing it the night after I woke up when you were still out and you actually stopped breathing once."

"I'm sorry."

"What're ya apologising for? 's'not like it was your fault the antidote worked a bit weirdly on you and Scary Medicine Lady had to up the dose." Bixlow wouldn't look at him. "I'd already been thinking how awful it would be to lose Laxus, but I didn't think until that happened that I might lose you too. That was scary, man."

"Scary," whispered Poppo, who had snuggled up next to Fried and was trying to creep under his arm.

"Oh yeah," Bixlow said, deliberately changing the subject as the atmosphere grew heavy, "I ran into Levy and she said she'd drop by with a book you'd been talkin' about? Somethin' about socio-... socee-... somethin' about languages and people."

"Sociolinguistics," Fried said after a moment's thought. "It was months ago we were talking about that. Strange that she should remember it now."

Bixlow shrugged again. "No idea, man. You and your language stuff, I'll never understand it."

Fried opened his mouth to begin explaining exactly why language was the most primal force in the universe, and then felt the words turn into a yawn before they even managed to sound. "Aahh, why am I so tired? I've been asleep for almost two weeks."

"Severe magic burnout and deficiency sickness?" Bixlow suggested rather pointedly. "That's what Scary Medicine Lady called it, anyway."

Fried sighed exasperatedly. "That's not her name, Bixlow. Show some respect, she did save our lives."

If he'd been expecting anything, it wasn't that Bixlow would promptly sit up at that statement with a rare expression of absolute seriousness and say "No, she didn't. You were the one who did that."

"I think you'll find that I had nothing to do with the creation of the antidote that saved us and therefore did nothing of the sort, Bixlow."

Bixlow just laughed. "You're really smart, Fried, but you can be a real moron sometimes, ya know?"

Fried gave him the flattest look he was capable of, but couldn't think of a comeback quickly enough. Not that Bixlow was ever fazed by snappy retorts anyway.

"Ah, don't look at me like that, man. You got us the hell out of there, Fried. Me 'n Ever 'n old man Yajima were down, I know that much. And I've overheard the rest. What Laxus did. What you did. You saved all our lives. There's at least four people on Earthland right now who directly owe you their lives, and you're a bigger moron than I think you are if you don't think that's something to be proud of."

Fried shook his head, looking away. "You'd have done the same thing if it was you."

That earned him a snort. "You really are bein' stupid now. You're the only one who could have done what you did. I'd have saved... maybe one person? My magic's not suited for transport. You figured out a way to make it work and got everyone home – and my babies." When Fried glanced back at him, Bixlow's expression had shifted to something unreadable. "They told me what you did. You let 'em piggyback on your soul to get 'em safely back here. There's not many wizards – not many people – who'd let something like that into their soul. You think I don't know how weird people find 'em? And most people don't know the true value of an uncorrupted soul. I do. And so do you, 'cause I told you."

"And you also know that my soul is far from uncorrupted, Bixlow. This conversation is pointless."

But Bixlow was looking straight at him, and even without being able to see his eyes the sincerity of his voice was enough to convince Fried that Bixlow was not trying to exaggerate. He was absolutely serious as he said "You cracked your soul into pieces to let 'em in, Fried, and you knew what you were doing when you did it. If you think I'm gonna forget about that in a hurry, you're dead wrong."

Fried suppressed a shiver at the tone in his friend's voice and hunched his shoulders over a little. "They're yours, Bixlow. I would never have forgiven myself if they'd been left behind. They're as much a part of the team as you are."

Bixlow's expression was still unreadable. "Then you saved nine lives in Hargeon, not four. And you should be damn proud of that, and I will never, ever stop owing you for it."

"There's nothing to pay back, don't be stupid, Bixlow. Besides, you've saved my life on missions before. It's no different." Fried gave up trying to look at Bixlow straight in the face and pulled his knees up to his chest so that he could set his chin on them. "If anything, Laxus saved them. He… he..."

Words were failing the man whose mastery of language was second to none. There were no words in any language to describe what Laxus had done for them, and for the citizens of Hargeon.

"I know," Bixlow said gently after a long pause. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop remembering you saved 'em too."

"I wish I could have saved them all."

He wasn't quite sure why that was the sentence that popped out of his mouth, but he'd said it before he could bring his tired mind to consider the implications. It wasn't quite true; he didn't wish he could have saved everyone, he knew he should have. That was what it meant to be a Fairy Tail wizard, wasn't it? To do the impossible to help everyone you could? They'd always managed it in the past, why hadn't he been able to do it this time?

Bixlow paused. Fried thought that he might have blinked at him in utter confusion, but the helmet hid his eyes. "Fried, what did I just say? You saved all of us. We'd be dead without you. Mira said you got all of us back one by one, defended the guild from the stuff you brought back accidentally, raised the alarm so they could send out emergency troops, and still managed to be conscious enough to tell them exactly what happened."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I should have been able to think of something to protect more of the people. There must have been some kind of barrier I could have made to… to contain all of the particles, or nullify them somehow. Laxus shouldn't have had to put his life on the line like that, not when I could have done something. Twice. I wasn't quick enough to protect him the first time, and too pathetic to help the second time. If I'd just been stronger he wouldn't have had to -"

"Fried," Bixlow cut across him, "Fried, you don't seriously think that you could have gone after Tempester for the antidote, do ya? You were actively dying of poisoned magic. Even Scary –" Fried glared and he threw his hands up. "Fine, Porlyuschia said it was a miracle any of us survived it. Our magic's still too low to do much more than glimmer, yours in particular – if you can set up a functional barrier right now I'll be amazed. You're shattered, man, in every possible way. And I know you're devoted to Laxus and you'd happily give your life to protect him, because hell knows I am and I would, but you gotta be realistic. You took a ton of damage for him. It's a miracle any of us are alive, let alone you, goin' back as many times as you did. And you're being ridiculous if you think you could have rescued every single person in Hargeon like that, I know what that spell does to your magic and how much concentration you need to do it, especially carrying another person. Hell, just the four – wait, no, it must have been double that – eight times you did it must have nearly killed you."

"Seven times. But people still died, Bixlow! Even after everything Laxus did, more than a hundred people died, even though -"

The memory sparked in his head; the familiar, much loved, deeply trusted voice heard through failing senses, reassuring that all was well, that the job was done, that the town was saved, that he had taken everyone home. On its heels was the memory of the horror on Mirajane's face when she had told him the final death toll.

He lied to me. He took words and turned them against me.

Fried closed his mouth with a snap, and looked away from Bixlow. The silence crackled, uncomfortable and strange between the man for whom words shaped all of existence and the man whose following souls echoed his every word. Poppo tried to nudge further under Fried's elbow, but he ignored the doll's efforts.

"There's somethin' you're not tellin' me," Bixlow said slowly. "It's makin' shadows on your soul – more than there are already, I mean. Last time I saw that happenin' you nearly died tryin' to build the Absolute Shadow runes on your own. I ain't lettin' that happen again. Tell me. Please, Fried."

It was strange, hearing such sincerity in Bixlow's voice for such a long period of time. Normally he'd have made at least one pun by this point, mostly because he knew exactly how much Fried loved them. The fact that his voice was still low and steady was the thing that unlocked the words that had shut themselves up in Fried's throat ever since he had woken up.

"I… just after we… just after I brought you all back," he began, "I told them Laxus had saved Hargeon. I asked if all the people were safe. The Master… the Master said yes. He said Laxus had saved the whole town. He… the Master lied to me."

For a moment, Bixlow looked puzzled, and then judging from the little Fried could see of them, his eyes went very wide.

"That's why I should have done more," he continued before Bixlow could open his mouth. "I should have done more, I should have protected Laxus, he wouldn't be in such a state right now if it hadn't been for me, it's my fault..."

Bixlow was clearly still trying to process the first half of Fried's sudden admission. "He did what?" he spluttered. "The Master told you that…" He trailed off into a muttered sentence of curses, only audible because Pippi and Pappa echoed them.

Fried pressed his lips together to stop more words pouring out and looked away from his friend, over to the door behind him. Now would be a good time for someone else to arrive – Evergreen, or Porlyuschia, or even – no matter how small the chance was – even Laxus. Anything to change the subject.

Bixlow tilted his head back to rest it on the back of the sofa. "I was gonna yell at you for lettin' your soul get as weird as it's got, but frankly I'm beginnin' to understand why you're not acting right. Hell, man. That's bad. No wonder you're bein' unreasonable. You're too tired and worried to think straight so you're tyin' yourself up in knots over could-have-beens for somethin' you did everything in your power to help because your brain needs something to do that doesn't involve thinking about what actually happened – the attack and what happened afterwards. And to do that, you're startin' to fixate on Laxus and what happened to him."

Fried stared at him, chills crawling up and down his spine. "What does that mean?" he snapped finally, letting the stress and the exhaustion shatter the control he had on his fraying temper. Bixlow would know why, anyway.

Bixlow sighed, and didn't answer for a long time. Finally, he said "Means you're tryin' not to think about what happened to you, and the easiest way of not doing that is to think about somethin' else. If you'd woken up first you'd have fixed on all of us but as it is you're just castin' around for a distraction because you feel like you've been through hell for nothing, you've lost so much of your magic you're terrified of being helpless, and the Master lied to you and you don't know how to deal with that. And I don't blame you, 'cause I don't know either."

Fried closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Trust Bixlow to be the one who saw soul-deep, who put things into words that the master of languages never could. He leant forwards in his seat, setting his elbows on his knees and pressing the heels of his palms into his aching eyes. He was so tired.

"It's just… I thought I'd done enough."

Once again, the words weren't quite what he'd meant to say, and he didn't know where they had come from, but they were true.

But this time, Bixlow didn't answer. Instead, silence fell once more between them. All the energy that Fried had summoned to keep himself awake had ebbed away, leaving him hollowed out by the passing tides of pain and exhaustion, and even the simple act of thinking of a coherent sentence was drifting beyond his capabilities. There was nothing he could do any more.

He was so tired.