AN: Enjoy the chapter folks! Be sure to leave a review when you finish!
EDITED 5/19/18 alongside chapter 23
Berserk
Chapter Twenty Four
{i'll ask of the Berserks, you tasters of blood}
They haven't said more than two words to each other since the fight happened, and that was nearly two days earlier. They're nearly to Bosco by now, only about three more days of walking until they reach the border. After that, it should only be another week for them to reach Fiore. Her hometown of Magnolia is close the border with Bosco, only a day or two of walking at most, less if they hurry.
Homesickness gnaws at Lucy's heart, chest squeezing painfully when she thinks about her family. They must be getting worried. She should have already been back by now, weeks ago, even. She'll miss Romeo's birthday at this rate, something that disappoints her greatly. She promised them she'd be home for it, she and Laxus were going to surprise him with a trip to the capital, but now it doesn't look likely.
Lucy can only hope he'll forgive her for being late. She knows he will, Romeo is one of the most understanding people in her life, but she also knows he'll be disappointed she wasn't there. Romeo is a good kid, an even better younger brother. She only wishes she could be a better sister to him, instead of being off thieving and nearly getting herself killed.
She thought she was being brave by coming back for the necklace, but it was a stupid thing to do, she's coming to realize. A family heirloom isn't worth her life, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself it was. She's glad to have it again, the jewel gives her a strange sense of comfort when she holds it in her hands, tracing the edges of the cut gem with her thumb. Regardless, nothing good has come from this trip. Not when both she and Natsu have been battered around and nearly broken.
Glancing sideways at Natsu, Lucy stares at the bruises on his jaw, his eyes, everywhere. His nose is puffy, a nasty split in the top, crusted with blood. There wasn't anything she could do but clean it, doing her best to prevent an infection, knowing it's the last thing they need at the moment. His eye is still bruised, though not as severely as she assumed earlier. The swelling has gone down, though the dark spot around his eye is still dark, only barely beginning to yellow around the edges, slowly but surely. His stitches have held, the wound in his shoulder slowly beginning to close. It'll leave a nasty scar, she knows, but it's better than him bleeding out in the snow.
Of the pair of them, Lucy thinks she faired better. A few bruises and superficial cuts are all she received, save for the ghastly bruising at her throat. It feels worse than it did the first time, if she's being honest. She can't see how badly her skin is bruised, but she knows it must be awful, judging by the horror in Natsu's eyes whenever he looks at her skin, half-hidden beneath her jacket.
It hurts to breath, to swallow. She can practically feel each individual finger that was wrapped around her neck, little spaces between the bruises dotting her neck. Lucy doesn't like to think about it, wants to forget it happened, but her nightmares have been keeping her awake at all hours.
She dreams of suffocating. She dreams of clawing and pleading and gasping, but the pressure around her throat never loosens. She dreams of dying, of looking up into different faces and watching their expressions go blurry, everything going dark around her and then she's being swallowed whole, her lungs screaming as slowly loses the ability to fight, her movement growing weak and sloppy. Lucy wakes up after that, trembling and gasping, clawing at her neck until Natsu wraps an arm around her, grasping her hands in his and pulling her back against his chest. He doesn't say a word, just holds her.
She doesn't think she could speak even if she wanted to, her throat too raw from being squeezed but also from her screaming.
Lucy wants to say that her throat is the reason she hasn't spoken to Natsu in nearly two days, but she knows that would only be an excuse. She's been ignoring him and that's entirely on her. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to him, she just doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to begin telling him how sorry she is for being the reason he's hurt or say how foolish he was for doing what he did. It might have saved her life, but she never would have forgiven herself if something worse happened to him.
She should have been paying more attention—shouldn't have broken down in the middle of a fight the way she did. If she hadn't, they both would have seen the archer coming and he wouldn't have been hurt. She shouldn't have frozen either. She managed to knock them both out of the way earlier in the fight, she should have done it again. There was still time and all she could do was freeze.
And he was hurt for it. She can still feel his blood on her fingers, can see a crust of redness beneath her fingernails, too deep for her to scrape away. It makes her sick to think about. Lucy has never been squeamish, but there's something about seeing his blood cover her shaky fingers, Lucy fumbling as she continued to pull the needle through his skin, working fast to make sure he didn't bleed out.
Sometimes she thinks back to what he said to her when they first met, about how he would protect her—a life for a life—that's when anger flares in her chest, throat tightening even further, rage welling deep inside her. Her grief is masked by it, shoving it down. She never wanted his blood debt, never wanted him to think he owed her, and she certainly doesn't want him to die for her.
Her life isn't more important than his. He deserves to exist and be happy, and she hates that he seems to be putting her before that. All it does is get him hurt.
The wind whips by, a shiver wracking her body, and Lucy pulls her jacket tighter around her, wishing she could disappear inside of it, if only for a little while. The weather has been getting warmer since the storm passed, the coldest parts of Mithriel left behind them. They've been sticking closer to the mountains, not daring to venture further into open ground, not after what happened.
The last thing they'd need is another fight so soon. Honestly, it's a miracle they made it out of the last one in one piece. Lucy thought for sure they would've been worse off. She's confident in her ability to fight, she didn't survive a fight with a Berserker for nothing, but she knows better than to be arrogant.
Arrogance leads men to their deaths.
Natsu stops walking suddenly, going stock still. Lucy pauses a step in front of him, turning around, confused. She stares up at him, watching his green eyes flit across her features, locking with her own for a long moment before slipping lower, his gaze heavy against her throat, as if a physical weight is pressing against her neck again. He doesn't linger long, fierce gaze snapping back to hers. Natsu jaw clenches, a low rumble building in his chest only for him to swallow it back down. Eyes flashing with rage, Natsu takes a step closer to her.
She eyes him wearily for a moment, not liking the look in his eyes. Natsu seems to notice, his anger melting into something softer, though his eyes remain hard, his jaw set. His gaze slips to the ground, Natsu swallowing thickly.
His breath winds through the frigid air like smoke is billowing from his lungs, a fire burning in his lungs. She watches it drift away, disappearing in little wisps until nothing is left by the cold air surrounding them. Natsu's throat bobs with a swallow, the Berserk wetting his lips as he avoid her gaze, almost nervous.
"You're angry," he murmurs, gaze rising to meet hers. It's a statement that hangs between them, heavy and thick as fog. Natsu doesn't shift on his feet, doesn't smile, doesn't do anything except stare down at her, almost daring her to deny it, an unspoken challenge in his eyes.
She wets her lips, sighing heavily. The wind whips by, her hair blocking her view of him for only a moment. Lucy doesn't respond for a long time. Her throat aches, but she isn't sure if it's the bruises or the emotion welling in her throat, begging to be released.
Lucy sighs, shaking her head slowly. "I'm not angry," she tells him, arms wrapping around her middle to block out the cold. Her gaze slips from his face, wandering to the bruises and cuts on his face, his shoulders, his chest. She looks at the stitches in his skin, thin thread the only thing keeping him from tearing apart at the seams. She wonders how many of the scars that will be lining his skin will be because of her.
And she isn't, not at him. No, she's more angry with herself than anything. She let her fear get the best of her and it nearly cost them both. Lucy is only frustrated when it comes to Natsu, wishing he wouldn't put himself between her whatever's coming for them.
His jaw ticks, not with anger but something else that she can't place. He sighs, looking away from her briefly. Natsu's arms cross over his chest tightly and Lucy gaze immediately flicks to his stitches—on his chest, his arm, his shoulder—watching as they strain with his movements. She knows it must hurt more than he's letting on, but Natsu hardly reacts to the thread threatening to snap.
"Don't lie, Lucy," he murmurs, sounding more tired than anything else. Guilt weighs heavy on her heart, knowing that between his nightmares and hers neither of them having been sleeping much at all, too jittery despite their exhaustion.
She shakes her head, sighing as she locks eyes with him. "I'm not," she promises, voice louder than intended. "I just—" Lucy cuts off suddenly, couching violently. She doubles over, grasping at her throat, still raw and sore from being squeezed, and clenches her jaw. She waits for the pain to stop, swallowing as best she can despite the tightness in her throat. Fingers wrap around her arms, holding her upright as she wheezes softly, catching her breath. Her arm aches where he touches her, but Lucy leans into him, trying to silently let him know that she isn't angry with him.
Her hand comes up, fingers shaking as she gropes for his wrist, clinging to him. Lucy hears him hush her, whispering something in his own tongue that sounds like a curse. Then he whispers something softer, something that sounds like the word he told her meant stars. She doesn't know what it means, but gladly leans into his hands, fingers squeezing around his wrist.
Finally, Lucy manages to take a deep breath, cool air soothing her bruised skin. She leans back up, slow on her feet, and Natsu gripes her arms steadily. She swallows, sighing. "You need to stop," she tells him, voice barely loud enough for her to make out the words. He flinches, hearing more sensitive than hers, and tries to step back. Lucy holds tight to his wrist, holding him in place loosely. He could pull away if he really wanted, but he doesn't go far, hands still hovering over her. "Natsu," his name is practically a sigh, Lucy looking up at him with melancholy eyes, "you don't owe me anything." His eyes go wide, brows furrowing a moment later. "You understand that, right?"
This time he does pull away, Lucy's hand falling limp at her side. She can feel her expression shatter, crumbling as he pulls away from her, taking a step back. There's a tick in his jaw again, the muscle jumping under his skin as he grits his teeth. Natsu looks absolutely stricken as he stares back at her, confused and maybe angry, though she can't quite tell.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no words leave him. Finally, his mouth closes, teeth clicking together with an audible snap. He swallows, the sound audible to Lucy, he's so close. "No," he finally tells her, voice gravelly and thick with something she doesn't recognize. "I don't." It's little more than a whisper when he says it.
Her chest gives a pained squeeze, her tongue suddenly feeling much too large for her mouth, too heavy and thick. Her mouth goes dry, Lucy's lips parting slowly, though no sound leaves her. "Natsu…" she trails off, not knowing what to say to make things better, to make him feel better.
She gets it, she thinks, maybe not entirely, but at least an inkling. All his life he's been forced to do things—to fight for people, kill for them, serve them. She doesn't know if it's some misguided honor keeping him at her side or if it's some product of being controlled by someone for most of his life, but she thinks she understands his blood debt now, even if she doesn't like it.
He thinks he's expendable.
Natsu's tongue darts out, nervously wetting his lips. He sighs, the sound so shaky she thinks it might break into pieces. "I've never been alive," he tells her suddenly, startling Lucy into taking a step back. He shakes his head, closing the distance between them with a single step. "Being locked in a cage," he spits, more angry than she's ever heard him before, "being forced to fight to the death." His hands shake at his sides, curling into tight fists. "That's not living." There's a sharp edge to his words, and Lucy flinches as it cuts into her.
He notices, wincing, and reaches out slowly, placing his hands on her arms when she doesn't pull back. Natsu sends her a weak smile that doesn't even begin to reach his eyes, his thumbs sweeping across her shoulders gently. Lucy's arm gives an angry pulse in response, as if something's trying to rip through her skin, but she ignores it, knowing it isn't as important as him right now.
"I don't know anything besides fighting," he continues, "protecting." One of his hands comes up to cradle her jaw, his gaze on her throat, something hateful burning behind his green eyes. His thumb rubs against her skin, only for a moment. "There was never anything else for me to do," he explains, sighing. "I shouldn't push that on you, and I'm sorry for that but—"
She cuts him off, voice gentle. "My life doesn't mean more than yours," she reminds him, covering his hand with her own, his fingertips burning against her chilled skin.
Natsu shakes his head vehemently, eyes going hard. His jaw locks, grip tightening on her arm, fingers squeezing almost too tight. "It does," he argues, a snarl to his words startling her, though she only blinks up at him in shock, jaw dropping open. His lips curve back, revealing sharp canines.
"Natsu," she breathes back to him, voice cracking on the syllables of his name. She shakes her head, practically clawing at his hand, her nails digging into his skin. He looks down at her sadly, and Lucy bristles, hot anger rushing through her. Her tongue flicks over her lips, throat squeezing, but she ignores it. "Natsu," she starts again, knowing she needs to tell him he's wrong.
"Lucy, it does," he repeats, snapping at her harshly.
She jerks out of his hold, knocking his hands away from her as she takes a step back. Her heels slide against loose rock, but she glares at him when he tries to steady her, Natsu flinching back as if she'd hit him. Lucy almost feels bad. Almost. "How could you say that?" she hisses at him, eyes narrowing. Her hands clench, trembling due to her sudden anger.
He matches her glare, towering over her, and Lucy almost deflates when she realizes this is one of the only conflicts they've had since they met, save for their brief argument in Jorah. "You have someone to go back to," Natsu reminds her, not unkindly, but there's something icy there, unfamiliar. "I said I would get you to Fiore and I meant that." This time he doesn't step towards her, standing very still, uncaring of the wind whipping around him almost violently. "Whatever it takes."
"That's bullshit!" she snaps at him, chocking on a couch when her voice gets too loud. His expression changes immediately, concern flooding across his face, his eyes going wide. Natsu lunges forward, fingers barely grazing her arm before the wind suddenly throws him backwards, Natsu stumbling unsteadily. He winces, pressing a hand to his shoulder, and Lucy realizes he's pulled it, disturbing the stitches.
The wind suddenly stops, and that's when Lucy realizes it was hers, her magic acting up.
She takes a hesitant step forward, forgetting her anger entirely as she sees the flash of pain in his eyes. There's an apology on her lips, but also something else, something she thinks he needs to hear. She needs him to listen, if only for a moment.
"Lucy," he murmurs as she comes to stand in front of him. Lucy reaches up, grabbing his face with gentle hands, and forces him to meet her eyes, keeping her grip light in case he wants to pull back. Natsu doesn't say anything else, simply waits for her to speak, recognizing the determined look in her eyes.
She takes a deep shuddery breath, ignoring her arm and aching throat. "You don't get to throw away your life for mine, understand that?" she says, voice as loud as she can make it. Despite how strained her words are, she knows he hears them by the way he stiffens, his jaw clenching. "You don't get to do that to yourself," Lucy continues, gaze locked with his, "and you don't get to do that to me."
He looks like he might argue, mouth opening and something sharp on his tongue, but he stops, noticing something in her eyes. He has to know that his life means more than just protecting other people, has to know that he isn't a shield. It's not fair to him to think so little of himself, and he doesn't get to put that guilt on her—doesn't get to make her feel responsible if he—
"Okay," he whispers, though he doesn't look like he believes her.
"Okay," she echoes, letting her hands slip from his face. Lucy takes a long, shaky breath, eyes locked with his. "You matter, you know," Lucy tells him, giving him a wobbly smile that slowly slips into something stronger, "to me." His eyes widen just the slightest. "Don't throw your life away because of some obligation," she whispers.
Natsu huffs lightly, the sound slipping into a quiet laugh. He shakes his head, expression suddenly very serious as he looks at her. "You aren't an obligation."
Lucy breathes a laugh in response, the tension draining from them like water. Her shoulders relax, Lucy smiling at him in earnest. In front of her, he shifts, wincing slightly, fingers twitching. His arm is still against his side, and Lucy sighs, stepping closer and placing a hand on his bare shoulder, worming her bow off her back as she guides him to sit. "Come on," she whispers, "let me check your arm." Her lips twitch at the edges. "I think I can take the stitches out now."
She nods at the old cut on his arm, dumping her bag onto the ground before kneeling beside him, pulling a knife from her thigh.
It shouldn't take too long. Besides, they still have time before it gets dark.
"Lucy—" he starts suddenly, cutting off just as quickly. She looks up, peeking at him through her lashes. He only shakes his head, sending her a grateful look. He doesn't have to say anything, she already knows. He may not believe how much his life is worth yet, but he will, eventually.
He isn't expendable. He never has been.
They lapse into silence, Lucy forgoing her knife for a moment as she checks his other wounds with a careful eye. The one on his chest is healing nicely, albeit slowly. It'll scare, but he'll live, and that's what maters most. She trails a finger along the stitches, Natsu shivering in surprise. Lucy mumbles an apology, an embarrassed flush warming her cheeks. His shoulder is still bad, however, unsurprising given how recent it is. It likely won't be healed for some time, though it's no longer life threatening, at the very least.
She leans over him to glance at the twin scar on his back, relieved to see it undisturbed despite Natsu's movements.
This isn't like Jorah. They can't just stop for several days to rest, not when they're in the open like they are, not when they've already been attacked once. They can't handle another fight like that, not so soon.
Her hand slips down his arm, eyes snapping to the healed cut on his arm. She remembers stitching it shut back in Jorah not too long ago, roughly two weeks and some days. Lucy is beginning to note that he heals faster than most people. Small cuts disappear within two days and anything larger only last for half as long as she thinks they should.
Humming to herself, Lucy draws her thumb over the old stitches, trying to decide if the wound looks like it's closing properly. She's only removed stitches a few times for Laxus, her cousin having a habit of slicing open his arms when he's working.
Romeo was always squeamish when it came to blood and Makarov is useless with anything sharp, his eyesight not what it once was. Usually, Makarov's friend Porlyusica was around to help, but occasionally she was away, or they were simply too far to run for help.
She learned though, and that's about all that matters.
Lucy deems the cut healed well enough, nodding to herself as she pulls the materials she'll need out of her bag. Water, bandages, what's left of Makarov's thick, green healing paste. Not wasting time, Lucy murmurs for Natsu to stop her if anything hurts, barely pausing to see him nod before she begins cleaning the gash, humming to herself as she works.
She works slow as she cleans, making sure to be careful, not wanting to jostle him in any way. Though, if he didn't pull a stitch while fighting the other day, she doubts he will now. The thought is almost amusing. Almost, but not quite.
Glancing at his shoulder, Lucy notes that, while he didn't pop a stitch, he did add several more to his collection. It's a bitter thought, so she shoves it away, wanting to keep her focus.
Lucy hesitates as she lifts her knife to his arm, carefully slipping the sharp tip between his skin and the bit of thread, not wanting to accidentally cut him and risk making things worse.
Her arm pulses in time with her thoughts, Lucy's lips twisting into a frown. She cuts through the thread easily, red strands fluttering uselessly against his skin. The throb grows violent, her fingers twitching, and she stops before making the next cut.
Hand clenching, she resolves to tell him now. Lucy grits her teeth, sucking in a deep breath. Her lips part, the words finally rising in her throat, much to her immense relief. It's short lived, however, the words catching in her bruised throat. The dark lines on her arm shift violently beneath her skin, unhappy, and suddenly she feels something slither around her neck and squeeze.
It isn't enough to hurt, but it does scare her.
"I was scared."
Her head snaps up in surprise, Lucy scrambling to return to her task. She peers up at Natsu, confused, her eyes wide when they meet his. "What?" she manages to asks him after several seconds, expression owlish. For a moment, she could have sworn the words came from her mouth, but she knows the spider veins on her arm won't let her talk—a ridiculous thought, really, but she isn't sure how else to describe it.
Natsu clears his throat, wetting his lips quickly before taking his lip beneath his teeth, biting down so hard that a sharp canine draws blood. He takes a shuddery breath, looking away from her, gaze sweeping around the open landscape around them, gaze hesitating when he looks at the mountains off to his left before snapping back to hers. "When I saw you on the ground," he clarifies, swallowing, "I was scared."
Lucy has to rip her gaze away from his, startled by the revelation and the shaken look in his eyes. She pops the next stitch, waiting for him to continue.
"You weren't moving," he tells her, glancing down to watch her work, mouth close to her ear when he speaks. "You were just lying there and—" he cuts off the shake his head. "And when I saw that archer, I thought—" Natsu stops himself, shuddering. "I panicked," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to scare you, too, I just didn't know what else to do."
Her expression softens, her earlier anger suddenly gone. For as much as she would hate to have his blood on her hands, she forgets that he would be just as torn apart is she died and he couldn't stop it. "Natsu," she murmurs, unsure what she's trying to say.
He takes a deep breath, shaking his head softly as he watches her hands move, Lucy pulling out the first thread from his arm. She watches his expression carefully, looking for any signs of pain, but finds nothing but determination flashing in his eyes. "I couldn't just let you die, Lucy," he whispers.
"I know," she replies quietly, gently tugging another strand of thread free from his arm. She could never just let him die either. Lucy's grown attached to him in the near two months they've been together. She doesn't know if it's because of what they've been through, or if it's simply who he is, but Lucy can feel in her bones that losing him would be devastating.
Her lips quirk at the edges.
Natsu smiles, bumping his head against hers. "I'll be more careful next time," he promises.
She laughs lightly, smiling in return. "I know you will." She's beginning to find that Natsu doesn't break his promises.
AN: Edited 5/19/18. I'll be updating at least two chapters a day from now until this story is up to date.