Part 2
End of Day 1
Lucy finds herself at the edge of Crocus, a little lost and very much alone. It's almost midnight, bringing the first official day of the Grand Magic Games to an end.
The rest of her guild were busy drowning themselves in the alcohol, so she had stepped out.
A bit of relaxing fresh air, she had explained, trying to placate an anxious looking Natsu, something to clear her mind. When he had opened his mouth to protest, or suggest he go along too, she had shaken her head. Alone.
She kicked a pebble angrily, watching it skitter across the cobblestone street. Well, her mind was horribly clear now, enough to feel the heavy guilt eating her from the inside out from today's loss.
How had Urana Metria not had any effect at all? Especially with her and Gemini's combined force - it just didn't make sense.
A door up ahead bangs open, breaking her from her reverie. Light pours out from the pub onto the dark street, and loud, slurred male voices filled the night air.
Suddenly hyperaware of the fact that she was alone and okay-maybe-more-than-a-little-lost in an unfamiliar part of town, Lucy recoils nervously from the sound, sidestepping into the looming shadows of the buildings, praying they concealed her. Drunk men were the last thing she wanted to deal with tonight. She reaches for her keys and grasps at empty air. She squeezes her eyes shut, mentally banging her head against a wall, cursing herself for not taking her keys with her.
Unprotected. Alone. Lost…
Stupid, stupid stupid –
"Lucy."
Her eyes fly open in surprise. She'd recognize that voice anywhere – it's the one that has been haunting her since yesterday.
He's there, leaning casually against a building, several feet away, as if he had been standing there the entire time. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his blonde hair illuminated by dim the streetlights. The fur vest he wears ripples in the night air.
Despite his casual positioning, his eyebrows are drawn together, and his mouth set in a thin, hard line. He tilts his head, as if beckoning her to follow him.
She hesitates for a second, before stepping towards him.
A large, rational part of her brain recognizes that following Sting is a bad, bad, bad idea. Maybe even worse than being alone. But a small part of her soothes at his presence. The recognition of such a thought makes her recoil inwardly with horror, and she squashes the feeling instantly.
They walk for several blocks in tense silence with him leading. He walks leisurely, but deliberately, each step a purposeful movement full of control and grace. His long legs allow him long strides, but his deliberately slow walk pace allows her to keep up.
He speaks first, and she struggles to hear him, even with him only a step or two in front of her. "This part of town isn't safe for you, little fairy. Tigers prowl these parts." He says, quietly, his tone carefully neutral.
"How did you find me?" She blurts out, unable to stop herself.
She wanted to slap herself the moment the words left her mouth. Gods, where were any of her manners, no thank you, no –
"Shadows talk."
The sudden thought of shadows talking sends a shiver trailing down her spine, raising goosebumps on her arms. She wonders what else Rogue has seen.
The questions burn in Lucy's throat, and she aches to ask them, desperately needing some answers, but unable to speak. The next three blocks are spent in tense silence as she struggles to find the words.
Finally, she just stops walking. It takes him only a single step to notice she isn't following him. He turns halfway to look back at her, eyes narrowed and a frown forming on his lips.
She takes a second to admire his side profile, illuminated by the moonlight. He was unfairly beautiful. She was sure he knew it too.
"Why did you save me? Why are you … helping me?" She whispers abruptly.
His jaw noticeably tightens, but he avoids her eyes. "My guildmates would rip you to pieces."
"That's just it, isn't it? Why aren't you? Aren't you one of Sabertooth's strongest? Don't they look up to you to set like, the gold standard or something?" She hedges carefully, trying to not let her emotions color her tone. She was treading some potentially dangerous waters here.
His eyes flicker up to meet hers at last, but she couldn't read anything from his gaze. It was horribly frustrating.
"I'm not interested in fighting opponents that are weaker than me for sport." He responds coolly.
"Not enough of a challenge?" She asks bitterly, turning her head away, again recalling her earlier fight with Flare.
She misses Sting's calculating gaze, carefully analyzing her.
"A waste of time and effort, with no benefit for anyone involved. I like to fight to test and showcase my strength but taking on a someone clearly weaker is just cruel."
"How generous of you." She snaps.
He takes a step toward her, closing the distance between them. His height is intimidating, she thinks he must at least have a foot on her. He's so close that she can smell him – sandalwood. He stares at her through thick lashes, his blue gaze hard. "Strength is the only thing that matters in this world, little fairy. Don't delude yourself in thinking otherwise."
"I know that. I know that better than anyone." She bites back angrily, color rising to her cheeks. "But inner strength matters more. It's what separates Fairy Tail from the arrogant, self-serving pricks like you!"
His hard stare intensifies, and he leans closer toward her. They're almost touching noses. "Oh really?" He sneers, "Did that inner strength win you that fight this afternoon?"
She recoils instantly, his words rubbing salt on an already exposed wound. Her gaze slides to the floor, and she is unable to meet his harsh gaze.
Ordinarily, she would have slapped him. Fought back with a retort just as biting, just as ferocious and cutting. But tonight is extraordinary, and she is vulnerable and the truth to his words hurt like hell.
"Come on." He mutters. His voice carries, and she realizes he must have stepped away from her. "We've still got a couple blocks to your hotel."
The rest of the walk back is spent in tense silence.
They turn right onto a familiar street. The hotel is just up ahead, she can already hear loud, familiar voices drifting from an open window. Home.
They stop at the end of the street, as he is clearly willingly to go no further into enemy territory.
She shuffles her feet nervously, before steeling herself and staring up into those icy blue eyes. "Thank you." She offers tentatively, extending an olive branch to relieve some of the horrible tension.
She doesn't miss the flash of surprise that crosses his face before it once again settles into a blank slate. He gives a slow nod of his head, acknowledging her thanks.
She turns away, intending to head home, but he gently clears his throat.
"I speak my mind." He states.
A simple sentence, but she recognizes this as his somewhat twisted and indirect way of apologizing for his scathing remark earlier.
She bites her lip, her mind racing.
She turns back around, a fierce glint in her eyes. "You didn't need it. Our map. You didn't need it. It wouldn't have helped you. It was barely started. We hadn't even begun compiling any of the other teams' maps."
His face is as impassive as ever, and she presses on.
"You needed a justification. A justifiable reason to give to save me. But it was an afterthought. You saved me first. Why, Sting, why?" Her last words come out laced with desperation, needing an answer.
When he doesn't offer an answer, she gets angry. "Answer me, damnit!" She shrieks, somewhat hysterical, unable to deal with unknowning. She lashes out, aiming to punch him, slap him, something – anything, to get him to respond.
He catches her arm halfway, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist.
She inhales sharply; His touch is electric. Their contact is simple, but it's the most intimate thing she has ever partaken in. And she knows he feels it too.
Lucy doesn't know how long they stand there, touching, staring at each other - it might have been only a minute - but it felt like infinity.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, but she swears she hears a roughness to it. "Maybe I think you're someone worth saving."
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out, her mind swept clean by his answer. He slowly unwraps his fingers, and her wrist falls limply to her side.
"Goodbye Lucy." He whispers it like a promise, but her mind is unable to process what kind of promise he could be making. He turns and disappears into the night.
She's left, mind reeling and standing alone in the street.