Chapter 82:
Laxus's gentle snores, or possibly his own internal clock still set to prison time, woke Gajeel early that morning. It was still dark; the coming of the sun had yet to chase the night still clinging to its fading stars and a magenta haze was pressing itself down on the horizon. Gajeel's eyes cut through the dim early morning to be arrested by the face of a man he could still hardly believe was really there. Brought to life like some lost myth with the sole purpose of reminding Gajeel as to why legends still existed, Laxus lay just inches from him, a knight and his misplaced chivalry, fingers and wrists curled gently into sheets that had been thoroughly ravaged, and hair that hadn't seen a comb in days, deep into a sleep that had his mouth open and body sighing in blissful relief. And Gajeel, not too unlike a cynical man who'd marched into the hunt on this early morning and stumbled upon a wild fae out in the forest, couldn't stop staring.
How many times could his eyes trace the outline of his face? Follow the curves and valleys of his throat? The sunlit gold of the stubble dotting across his jawline? He reached out and ran a thumb across his cheek, marveling at how the man would instinctively turn into his touch. Gods alive, he didn't deserve this. He didn'tdeserve this.
Each time Gajeel had lost his mind in the crawling of his own flesh and instinctive drive to take his mate, Laxus had been more than willing to relieve him, and not only that, but encourage him as well. Gajeel memorized just how those eyes could roll back, his spine would curl, his hands seek to ball into anything they could get a hold of. He was beautiful and amazing and wonderful, and so many different words he couldn't pull together in his sleep-dogged mind as he lay there and just stared. And he stared until the light spilled through the curtains and cut apart the shadows of their room, until he felt that window of light creeping across his legs where they were tangled together with Laxus's.
He pulled himself up onto his elbows, pressed a kiss to his eyebrow rent with that familiar scar. The noise Laxus made was like a purr. One golden eye lulled open, the pupil shrinking as he focused on him, and then it fluttered shut again. He turned his face further into the pillow and Gajeel set about to taming the stray hairs that curled on his forehead.
He didn't deserve this.
The gentle smile that had been set across his lips faded. He trailed his eyes down the long and pale length of his neck, lingered on the marks that hadn't yet faded. Crescents were still flowering with purple and green and red, bruises boiling up beneath bitemarks, and red streaks that were now slivers. His back was covered in scratches, the straight tracks of razorblades and animal talons mapped his flesh like lay lines in the dips and curves of him. Thumb presses, finger presses, hand marks marred smooth cream with deep violet fading to ugly green. Blood stained their blankets. Gajeel felt a pang of guilt at it all. He hadn't been gentle, hadn't even tried to be, and he knew how much Laxus hated those simple, sharp pains.
He placed a kiss to his forehead and silently slipped from the bed and onto the cool, wooden floors.
He'd long learned that being alone in his thoughts was a dangerous thing, and yet, he always ended up here. The warm humidity of the oceanside did nothing to stop the race of skittering flesh down his arms and spine. He was telling himself he was only pulling on pants to keep himself warm, a shirt because the window was open. Grimly, as his eyes traced the blonde's sleeping outline, and he thought to himself what are you going to do now,Kurogane?
He agonized down the hall, feeling more and more like a specter haunting the general vicinity than a man trying to figure out some sort of plan. He was sort of like a machine in the way he could reset himself. After a week of being open and vulnerable and caught in his own entangling net of hormones and manic libido, he was making rounds again. Each room in turn he stalked quietly, eyes sweeping over furniture to find something out of place, seeing nothing, and then glancing out the window. He'd done this daily before he'd been taken to prison and now he was here again. How long would he keep doing this? The spare bedroom, the bathroom, the living area that devolved into a small kitchen, he walked through each in turn before his eyes alighted on the double doors that led out to the beach. He glanced back down the hall, listened to Laxus's slow, easy breathing, and sauntered slowly towards the doors.
To say he threw them open would have been a little dramatic, but he could hardly stop the rush of air from making them bang into the doorstops. The crash of the waves like the rumble of a stampede in the distance, the sounds of gulls screaming, the wind that feathered across his skin and ran rampant through his hair... he let it all make him feel lost. Adrift, rolling aimlessly and purposelessly across waves that didn't care about his life or any other, he found himself there at the beach in far fewer steps than it really should have taken him. Blue-grey washed up across the sand, dragged lazily up over his feet. The cold was a shock until it wasn't anymore, and pieces of rock and broken shells and fishbones made into smooth and miniscule grains had him sinking ever slowly.
He was free... but freedom was a deceptive thing, wasn't it? Freedom was a rolling open field or a bottomless ocean. Beautiful, yes, and boundless and vast and expansive. There were no iron bars here, no dense and restrictive brambles that dug thistles into his skin. He wasn't stuck in the sand and muck of the tidepool at midday, fearing the birds overhead. But that didn't mean he was safe. In fact, he was far from it. Now he was free.He was standing in the open air with no cover for safety, surrounded by just the immenseness of this space and the horizon line ahead of him. He was sinking into black abyss and something swam there where he couldn't see, past where the light wasn't able to puncture the depths of the water. He and anyone he cared about was at stake. But then, he should be familiar with this, shouldn't he? Freedom never came without a cost.
What are you going to do now,Kurogane?
He was taken with the sudden and visceral need to take action, life and prospect into his own hands, although he didn't really know what to do with it. All he knew was that he was quite literally trudging into the sea as the chill seeped up his hips and naval and chest. The swells would toss him and threaten to draw his feet from the bottom but he kept walking.
Did he want to die? If asked, he probably wouldn't have responded with more than a shrug and vague downturn of his mouth. He didn't know, not really, which was no more comforting than not knowing what was swimming out there in the waves to take him if he decided he didn'twant to die. But he'd never been one to look that far ahead, had he? Action first and regret it later, that was the type of man he was. Who was he to break that trend now?
The salt stung the fresh scrapes Laxus had given him the day before and reminded him of who he was here for, the reason he hadn't jumped so long ago, the reason he'd fought to live while in prison. But weighed down by his white and orange standard uniform, the remains of his stay behind bars, he was up to his shoulders in water and still found himself walking onward. A meager five-foot wave broke the surface tension and curled overhead. Being made of metal had its pros and cons; he wasn't as buoyant as he really should be.
Salt water slammed into him and he stumbled backward. He was consumed by stoic violence and the roar of water passing by his ears; something in him settled. An instant later, his head was above water again and he gasped in a breath just in time to glare unflinchingly into another wave and be thoroughly rocked. His feet slipped from under him and he fell into the water. His bare foot caught onto the rocks, his ankle twisted, and he gritted his teeth under the water, eyes stinging as he held his breath.
Fish darted past him as he drifted backwards. The sun breaking through the two gossamer feet of water above his head blinded him. The ocean stayed unchanging with this added body under its influence, the world turned while his lungs ached for him to breathe. He let out what oxygen was left inside of him and watched it dither and flutter until it broke the surface, the barest of ripples swallowed by the passing swells. All that remained was the fervent beating of his heart into the undulating water, the sound of movement all around him and his own unnatural stillness.
What are you going to do now,Kurogane?
Gajeel knew how long it took to drown, so he knew that in just a few short heartbeats he'd instinctually gasp and breathe in nothing but water. He knew it would burn as badly as fire trapped in his chest and fill spaces between his ribs he hardly realized were there. He knew that before he passed out, he'd be forced to endure that stinging pain because oxygen deprivation wouldn't numb his senses for an agonizing five minutes. His iron-lined lung capacity was far better than the unpracticed swimmer and he'd spent a large portion of time taking missions on with Juvia during days when her eyes were dull and tired. He'd been made to see just what it was like to be killed by water and so drowning had never really appealed to him. He'd prefer something far more silent, far more peaceful, like blood loss or a high jump, and besides, he wasn't tryingto kill himself. He didn't have anything to tether himself down with.
Throbbing at him along with his own silence, his ankle relented against what held him under just as he couldn't stand the shriveled emptiness in his lungs a moment longer. He woke up on land with the sun baking the side of his face, just as insensitive to him and his plight as the rest of the world. He lay there wanting to vomit water but not quite doing it and waiting to find the willpower to move so his face wasn't burning quite so much.
He squinted his eyes open and felt like he was falling into the endless blue sky overhead, cloudless and perfect, he could see the imperfections swimming on his eyes from gazing into it. He remembered flying in that sky as a kid, on the back of Metalicana. His dad had always been one for taking action, for hunting down the things that threatened you, because dragons never ran from a fight, they met it head on. He'd always tried to live by that sentiment, but how do you meet something head on that obviously wants to remain hidden? Where was he supposed to start? Who could he turn to? This was dangerous, bloodthirsty, and he didn't want to take chances at people he cared about being caught in the crossfire. He'd gotten a warning the first time, with Hajime, when the Major had made an effort to tell him he knew he'd been near him and that they'd been looking into… whatever this was.
How could he live with himself… how could he…
He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the image before it became too potent, but of course it came anyway. An image of Makarov flashed into his head, an image that made his stomach twist, of approaching the old man alone and with a heart rent into fragmented pieces. Of facing him, his Master, and look him in the eye and tell him his only grandson was dead… and it was his fault. If he hadn't gotten so close, if he hadn't had love him, if he hadn't killed Bianca, Laxus would still be alive. Suddenly, he felt even more sick than he had before. He wanted to scream.
What are you going to do now, Kurogane?
He heard footsteps approaching through the sand. Booted, he realized dimly, and light. So, he didn't feel some nervous and panicked need to think up a reason as to whyhe was laying there drenched in seawater fully dressed, because it definitely wasn't Laxus approaching him now. That being said, who he was approached by certainly wasn't something he expected, although at this point he really shouldn't have been surprised.
"So, tell me, were you attempting to kill yourself or do you just simply not know how to swim? Which... I suppose, in essence, means you were attempting to kill yourself."
It was odd, he didn't hear the flutter of a cape or cloak, and the reason became apparent as the Major finally stepped into view, glaring down at him overtop his dark-framed glasses with lips drawn into an unamused line. He wasn't in uniform, instead wearing what looked like a white double-breasted coat with a black shirt underneath. The black pants looked typical, though, and of course the boots. His dual rows of golden buttons caught the light of the sun and flashed it down on the dragon slayer, making him wince. Gajeel didn't smell the prison, which made him think the lizard-man must not have been there today.
"You look like a punk with daddy issues," seemed to be the first insult that filtered up into his head. A black eyebrow arched sharply in response, but aside he seemed unfazed.
"Does your better half know you're out here attempting to make yourself one with the low tide?"
"He's asleep," his throat burned but he managed not to grimace.
"That would explain it, then..." his head tipped towards the sea and tugged up the fronts of his pants as he squatted down next to him, trying to keep the sand from caking to the bottoms of his trousers, "Sort of a poor time to be doing this, isn't it? Wouldn't it suit you better to wait for high tide? Night time would probably be best, actually, far fewer passersby... not that this section of beach sees much activity, really, there isa safe house here, after all. But still, you did know I'd be checking up on you, didn't you?"
Gajeel's body protested his pushing himself up onto his elbows. Everything ached, which was strangely refreshing. Sand coated his arms, weighted down his clothes alongside the salt water. He felt the grit of it in his teeth, the bitter of piss-water and saline. He actually felt better now, at least he didn't feel so stagnant, like he'd done something... even if it wasn't productive.
"Tell me you at least left a note."
"Didn't think about it," he lied as his hands sank into the sand beneath him. He hadn't exactlycome out here to kill himself... he wasn't quite sure why he'd come out here, actually. Ah, there was the regret kicking in, late but still long-suffering. Gajeel welcomed it demurely and with a flippant swish of his hand, playing at a disgusted flick of the sand from his fingers.
"Ah, well, really, you should have at least done that. Surely you know the man would blame himself? At least have the decency to tell him it was out of his hands... and maybe where you're at so someone can track down your body? Unless you just want the sea to claim you? Ah, but then Laxus seems the type to go into denial if he couldn't find you... surely, you wouldn't want him wasting his energy looking for a dead man?"
Gajeel took as deep a breath as his waterlogged lungs could manage, "What tha hell do ya want?"
"As I said, I'm checking up on you," he replied simply, crossing his arms on his knees.
"Laxus is 'n the house... fuck..." fire and salt seared through his chest as he tried to push himself up, so he ended up just falling back into the beach. He could feel water leaking out of his nose but his hands were so coated in grime he didn't want to wipe it away, "The hell ya doin' here."
"Ah, yes, well... I smelled blood-,"
"What?" he jerked up, ignoring the pain as he teetered to his feet, and Davian jumped back slightly.
"Let me-Let me finish..." he reached a hand out to steady him which Gajeel promptly shoved away, glaring, "It was old and minor. I wasn't too concerned until I noticed the back doors wide open. And as your shirt doesn't seem bloodstained, I'm guessing the blood I smelled wasn't yours?"
"You smelled blood... from insidethe house... and yer out here checkin' me?" Gajeel growled, pushing past him. The Major was close on his heels.
"You really shouldn't be pushing yourself. Failed suicide attempt or not, you are half drowned," Gajeel ignored him, ignored the feeling of water surging up his throat until he was forced to double over. The Major stood at his side, patronizing and callous, "Oh dear, you did get a lot of water, didn't you? Were you actuallytrying to kill yourself?"
Gajeel, tired, worried, and in pain, replied with water still burning his nose and throat, "If I were tryingI would have put rocks in my pockets... goddammit..."
"Then what were you doing, pray tell? Trying to give yourself pneumonia? Or do you just enjoy causing chemical and fluid imbalances in your body?"
"Gods' sakes, what kinda cop are you?"
"The blood was old and minor. That is to say, not something that warrants concern. That amount of blood could have been caused by a severe nosebleed, or –and this is just a wildassumption, really – possibly some very rough sex?"
Gajeel's spine went rigid. He took a minute to glance over at the Major who at this point seemed more annoyed than anything.
"Well, look at that. Is that recognitionmaking its way through that deluged brain of yours?"
Gajeel narrowed his eyes at him.
"If I can smell fear, Dragon Slayer, what makes you think I can't smell blood?" he scoffed, "But I suppose it did get you out of the water, didn't it?"
A thought suddenly occurred to Gajeel that hadn't before as he crossed his arms and straightened, retaining somedignity as he glared down at the Major, "Ya know... ya say you were tyin' ta get me outta the water, but you watched me walk inand didn't do shit."
"Maybe I wouldn't have lost sleep over it, but, of course, I had no way to know you were committing suicide... which, as you've said, you weren't. So really, the point is moot, I should think," he gave Gajeel a once over before speaking again, "At any rate, I brought some things to restock the cottage and I didn't want to barge into your little lover's tryst. Am I able to enter or does your lover need to be made decent?"
It was then that Gajeel felt... something. A stirring of motion that was as innocuous as the sea wind and familiar as choking on salt water, that had his eyes snapping towards the house, to the tall grasses nearby, striking down the beach. He tried to take in a breath only to have his chest fight him, and then he tried again. His hair was standing on end, that anxious feeling he'd come to dread was sinking into his spine. He turned around, eyes sweeping over everything.
He looked at Davian, reallylooked at him, and the Major looked the way he smelled: confused and mildly concerned. He looked him in the eyes, driving headfirst into obtrusive yellow. He wasn't hiding anything. Even the look of his face was sharp and unguarded.
Gajeel's attention snapped back to the house.
"Are... are you well?"
"Shaddup," he growled at the subtle swell that vibrated the air just beneath the feel of waves crashing. He felt static and Laxus's magic, "You feel that?"
"I'm certain I don't know what you me-…! Mr. Redfox!"
Gajeel was running across the sand, cursing the sluggishness in his legs. He was up the wooden steps in an instant, his feet suddenly still and quiet as he stood in the open doorway. He listened, eyes wide and piercing into the silent house. He remembered the day he'd seen his stalker out in the woods, reptilian eyes suddenly there and glinting in the darkness. He remembered it was a faint bit of nothing, just a paranoid feeling like something was there when there was clearly nothing, that had got him seeking and finally finding. Something was off, and he couldn't place it but taste it there on the tip of his tongue, like a lion caught in a net trying desperately to get its teeth through the thin cords. Sand skittered across the floor and he watched it move and shift and settle, and satisfied with the natural movement he took a cautious step in.
"What are you doing?" the Major hissed and Gajeel turned on him, baring his teeth.
"If ye got any friends 'round here, you need to tell me now," he snarled, clenching his fists.
"What? I have not the slightest idea..."
Davian must have felt it because his words slowed to a halt. There was another swell of static, not unlike the deep and quiet breath of someone fighting their way out of a dream. There, right in between the shift of the air, Gajeel could have sworn he heard a voice. His heart jumped up into his ears and he swept his gaze back through the living room. Now that he was looking, didn't it seem dark? The sunlight streaming in through the open door didn't penetrate the shadows like it should. He stepped in slowly, fingers flexing as he listened the shift and shutter of quiet atmosphere.
Nothing moved and Gajeel didn't breathe. A handful of steps brought him into the short corridor. The house felt small around him, it felt wrong. He stood in the doorway to the bathroom, eyes trained on the shower curtain that hadn't moved, the linen closet that was partially open, down the lyonium floors untrod and blemish-less. The spare bedroom was flawless, untouched, vacant; the light from outside was muted and ignited that floor just below the window with not enough light. He heard it again, that noise almost like a whisper. A piece of a phrase spoken quickly and just out of earshot. He glanced back at Davian still standing at the end of the hall, eyeing him with patience and curiosity and with a hand gripping lightly at his hip what looked to be the sheath of a knife.
Gajeel turned his eyes to the last door at the end of the hall, to the cracked door of it, the sliver of the room he could see. The bed there with the outline of a foot unmoving in the sheets. The dark shadows that edged beneath the bed to where he couldn't see seemed palpable and solid. Gajeel noticed that there was no light spilling across the floor. The sunlight streaming through the windowpane didn't pattern across the bed and hardwood floors but seemed swallowed and spectral in its hue. Gajeel didn't believe in ghosts, though, he believed in magic, and with a tense swallow he felt the static hum like the low reverberating thrum of a base note struck with his amp turned low. His hair was standing on end and he heard a whisper.
,;.-I.-...I s ';..šśeėęe ';..;..ÿy oöòo ';...üû- ,,..;-.- ';.
Gajeel was through the door in an instant and his eyes were suddenly struck by the light that filled the room, cascading through the window like it had always been there reflecting off the walls and drenching the place in warm sunlight. The shadows were gone, chased across the floor and settling into their rightful places. Gajeel gritted his teeth at the form of Laxus still unmoving, breathing unhitched aside from a strange furrow in his brow. Glancing around, he reached out his hand.
"Laxus?"
Golden eyes flashed open and there was a look of unbridled shock suddenly lighting up his face. He swung and it was charged with magic. Lightning sang through Gajeel's body and his feet slid backwards, his skin shivering with a sudden pulse of thunder that shook the room. His brain jumped into hyperdrive and all he could think was complete the circuit complete the circuit complete the-
He grabbed Laxus's wrist and the searing energy that had his body quaking jumped violently back to its master, sending Gajeel crashing back into wall. He slipped to the ground, quietly biting down the pain of being electrocuted. He heard Laxus swear and he was pressing his palm into his eye, showing his teeth in a pained snarl before slowly realizing what had just happened. He snapped his attention over to where Gajeel was slumped, smoke curling from the hand he'd used to send the current back to Laxus, and the raven smirked.
"Afternoon, Sparky,"
Laxus paled, but even though he opened his mouth it wasn't his voice that made its presence known next.
"What in this land and the next happened?" the Major's eyes cut between the two before falling on Laxus who blinked confusedly back at him, "You... Oros's name, look at you."
Laxus looked appalled for a moment before his eyes darted to Gajeel. A pang of guilt flooded the Iron Dragon's chest and he shrugged, "Ya look... rough."
Laxus glanced down himself and back up again, "I feel fine."
"Fine, well of course you do. Neitherof you know how to take care of yourselves, let alone the other," Davian shot an accusatory glare at Gajeel, "It's called aftercare. By Oros's Death and Rebirth, are you completelyruled by instinct? He's you're mate. You take care of him."
"Thought I did fine," Gajeel muttered out the side of his mouth.
"Fine? He looks like he's been in some... some... vicious animal attack. Did no one teach you how to properly care for your mate? Who taught you about your cycle?"
"I was a fuckin' kid! T's not like Dadwent into detail,"
"A kid?" Davian's processes seemed to screech to a halt, "You... a kid... you were a kid. A child?" he blinked rapidly for a moment, "Children. I'm dealing with adult children," he seemed to settle before staring disapprovingly over his glasses at Gajeel, "Well, here's an easy one, then, get him dressed."
With that, he turned on his heel and Gajeel could hear him stomping his way down the hall. It took him a moment to push himself up, still damp and sore from his reckless swim and now from being lightly electrocuted, his body was incredibly angry with him. Laxus seemed too concerned with his eye to notice his minor struggle up to his feet and then his crossing of the short distance between them. Sparks flickered from beneath the blonde's fingers as he dug them into his eyebrow, wincing slightly.
"Somethin' wrong with your eye?" Gajeel took his hand gently and pulled it away, revealing how bloodshot it was, how it was red-ringed and stinging tears settled along his wetline.
"It's fine... I've just been having nightmares lately..." he murmured.
Gajeel leaned forward and placed a soft kiss onto his scar, "About your eye?"
"Sort of..." he hummed, tilting his head to the side in search for Gajeel's lips. He pulled back slightly, his face suddenly falling into a scowl, "Did I hit you?"
"Yeah."
"Fuck... I'm sorry..."
"S'fine," Gajeel purred at him gently, "Shoulda seen it comin'. I could feel your magic outside," he smiled sheepishly, "I was worried you were in trouble or some shit..."
Laxus opened his mouth to say something but his wry expression suddenly turned into confusion, "Why the hell are you wet?"
"Went for a swim," he lied smoothly.
"In your clothes?"
His grin widened, "I got... swept up."
Laxus seemed to buy it as Gajeel made about tracking down his clothes and handing them over to him. He didn't miss how Laxus moved sluggishly, swaying on his feet slightly as he zipped up his jeans. What remained of Laxus's shirt had been left where Gajeel had discarded it the week prior, unmoved and in two parts. Laxus grimaced at it as he flipped the shredded fabric over in his hands.
"I liked that shirt."
"Sorry," Gajeel scratched nervously at his neck, "I'll buy you a new one."
Laxus just smirked, "You better."
The Major seemed to have taken himself to rifling through cabinets in the kitchen. As Laxus made his way to the bathroom, Gajeel found himself crossing his arms as he stood by the island. Davian had brought food, something Gajeel's body was suddenly screaming for now that it was snapped out of its other dominating instincts, but he refrained from making a move for anything until Laxus was back.
He was lost in the sound of feet clacking and cabinets banging, his mind simmering through fragments of thought that seemed to quickly leave him. He found himself staring at Davian Bishop, the way he marched rigidly across the floor, his movements purposeful and direct. If Bianca was what he could describe as a snake, Davian was eagle striking from one task to the next, keen eyes biting into the dirt before him in search of something to dig its talons into. And he was haughty; definitely the sort that was used to and enjoyedlooking down on people. Gajeel had decided a long time ago he didn't like the Major, although before it was for slightly different reasons. He wasn't quite sure even now that he believed his speech about not wanting revenge; the man certainly held his past against him. But the way he spoke about Bianca was odd. He called her mad, and darting between his words was that same derisive hiss that he'd used when interrogating Gajeel. He truly didn't seem to like Bianca, or even see her as a colleague, let alone a sister that needed avenging.
Along that same vein, Davian didn't feellike the others he'd encountered. Others being a whopping two, which Gajeel knew full well did not make him an expert on supposedly instinct lizard-folk. Of course, he didn't know anything about the personalities of Bianca or the chameleon that had stalked him for so long before his imprisonment, or even the one impersonating Ezal, but Gajeel was veryfamiliar with movement. He knew, for instance, that Bianca was fluid and low to the ground, smiling like her mouth should have been full of razorblades instead of human teeth, and then finally he'd seen the sharpness of those ivory bones, the black of her tongue. The chameleon that had stalked him had been even worse. He'd slunk through grasses and bushes and trees, hands never far from that camera around his neck, that camera. Thinking of that camera made his skin crawl; that eye never blinking, that had seen him shutter and writhe and wretch and scream and only ever responded with a cold snap.
Cold, that was a good word. The others were cold and unblinking and low to the ground. Davian, though, was lukewarm and flighty, alighting on the things he touched and the tasks he undertook with a sense of finality, like an end coming. He touched things like he had to be precise in it, there was measured-ness there. Part of his focus was always on his task in front of him, and another part, Gajeel was sure, was on keeping prying eyes away. Every time he tried to study him, reallystudy him, he found himself distracted. It was sort of like walking into a room and forgetting why, like there was a void that Gajeel was sure was filled with somethingbut he couldn't see for the emptiness that encompassed it. The red ring of the solar eclipse you shouldn't look at and he was attempting to stare right into it, trying to figure out whyit doused the world into darkness as it did and not understanding the concept of shadow.
"Did your father not teach you that staring is rude, either?" Davian snapped.
Gajeel gritted his teeth, "He taught me to pay attention to snakes in the grass. It's the ones that look like nothin' that end up havin' a bite."
"Did you forget who let you out of prison?"
"Don't act like ya did it fer me," Gajeel placed his hands on the kitchen island and leaned forward, deliberately looking the Major in his eyes, "Don't act like ya did it fer him,either."
Davian narrowed his eyes at him, "But it was still done."
"The only thing you've done is put a target on his back," Gajeel bared his teeth and growled lowly, "Something happens to him and I find out you had anythingto do with it, you better pray whatever the hell that's keepin' me from seein' you hides you real well."
Davian's lips twisted into a wry smirk and Gajeel watched his looks suddenly shift and flush with something inhuman, "Is that right?"
"Tell me I can't hunt you down," Gajeel dared to drop his voice lower, "and then tell me I can't make it look like an accident."
Davian didn't respond, but a flash of his eyes down to Gajeel's hands and back up again betrayed him.
"A well-placed stab to the ribs looks like revenge. Two and a missing wallet looks like a mugging gone wrong. But that doesn't matter, does it? Because you don't exist, an' I bet you're just like her when you die, aren't you? That shit that hides you so well goes away and the world sees what you really are. Bet no one cares about who killed ya then, do they? Assuming someone even finds you, and your body doesn't just disappear," the Major's face darkened and his eyes travelled to the bend in the hall. There was a rigidness that had settled across him quite suddenly, like he knew there was truth behind Gajeel's speculations, "Did I hit a nerve, Major?"
"If something didhappen to your significant other, what would make you think killing me would help you?"
"You're not like the other ones. You're different. Warmer,"
"I'm sure I don't know what you-"
"I think you do," Gajeel smirked, "and I bet that means something. Don't know what, but I don't need to. If I kill you, I'll get the attention of whoever started this. There's only one thing keeping you alive right now, Major Bishop, and it's the fact that I'd have to explain your dead body to the man in the next room."
"Oh, spare me your theatrics," Davian was glaring over the rims of his glasses, venom dripping from his words, "You said yourself, you can hardly see me. What makes you think you can kill me?"
It was the pretentious way he'd said it that had struck some sort of chord in Gajeel and suddenly the need to prove his point flared into his chest. Gajeel was a lot of things, but he wasn'ta man of empty threats. In a movement faster than the strike of a cobra, his arm flashed across the counter and gripped a hold of the knife holstered neatly at Davian's hip. A hand came up to stop him but he gripped his wrist and slammed it back into the counter just as he pressed the tip of the blade into Davian's throat. There was a moment where all Gajeel could hear was the rush of his own blood in his veins and the sudden, frantic breathing of the man in front of him. Yellow eyes were wide and his lips were a thin, anxious line.
"You're dead, Major Bishop," Gajeel breathed, his eyes never moving from Davian's.
"Wasn't it your inability to restrain your bloodlust that started all of this?" his voice was far less like a man's, devolved now into a hiss that slipped from the back of his throat and settled in his mouth, obstructed from the sharp blade pressing into the soft vulnerability of his neck.
"Is it, Major?" Gajeel sneered.
Davian clenched his teeth, something sitting there on the tip of his tongue, but they both heard the click of the bathroom door opening. Gajeel, holding the Major's eyes the entire time, retracted the blade and slipped it gently back into its holster. And then, just as Laxus's footsteps came to the edge of the corner, he released him and crossed his arms to the counter, rolling his shoulder slightly to force the tension away.
"Good to see you two didn't kill each other while I was gone," he sighed, and for a split second Gajeel's mind made a misstep thinking there was some way Laxus knew what had just happened. Davian, at least, seemed faster on the response.
"Oh please," yellow eyes were staring down at him above crossed arms. The way his lips parted into the mildest snarl set Gajeel's blood to a low boil. A sharp point, the flash of razorblade teeth, and it took everything in him not to react to Davian's words, "We're not complete animals, are we?"
Laxus let out deep sigh, the sound of it both annoyed and resigned at the same time, as he settled onto the floor of the tiny living area. Gajeel had never shut the doors that led out the back of the house and so the warm sea air was spilling in and causing the curtains and flutter out as if reaching for him. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, glancing over at Gajeel as he stood there against the counter. Gajeel furrowed his brow at how bloodshot Laxus's eye was, how it was clear he'd been in pain, and his worry quickly doused the fire of his animosity.
"You sure you're alright, Laxus?"
"I'm really fine."
"Oh yes, we're quite convinced," Davian said in a voice that definitely said we're not convinced. He slid a jar across the counter at Gajeel, who stiffened at it bumping his arm. It looked like the jar Laxus had brought with him, he realized, although it smelled different. He schooled a glare over at the Major who didn't even look at him as he rummaged through bags, "Rub it on his back. It'll ease some of the sting."
Gajeel clicked his teeth, "What the hell is this?"
"A tincture to help with mending small wounds and soothing skin."
Gajeel's lip curled and when he made no move to take it, Davian paused for a moment from his rifling and poured raw venom into his gaze as he looked over the tops of his glasses at the Iron Dragon, disdain and contempt clear on his face.
"Was that not a good enough explanation for you, Master Dragon?"
"Just wonderin' what the hell you brought it for," Gajeel gritted his teeth, remembering how it felt to be watched from the bushes.
"Hm? Oh, that, well… it's just that I heard Dragon Slayers in heat were prone to acts of sadomasochism. I brought that in case there was truth to that rumor," his eyebrow arched – and at this point Gajeel wanted to rip it off of his face – as his eyes darted to Laxus and back to him. The condescension on his face matched what bled throughout his tone, "Was there truth to that rumor?"
Gajeel wanted to surge over the counter and wring the man's neck, but his eyes had also flashed to Laxus where he sat staring out at the beach. His eyes trailed over the wicked-looking marks he'd left and he didn't realize it until it was too late that he was releasing a clenched fist. He really had gone too far and Laxus, the love-struck idiot, didn't even complain. In all of it, he'd never complained, even when he'd tried to stop him and Gajeel didn't listen, too caught up in his own blind lust to be considerate. He'd thought he was used to feeling guilty at this point in his life but with Laxus it was on a whole other level. The inner voice that said you really could have done better now screamed how dare you, and he was no better at stomping it back into submission.
Davian seemed to sense his inner thoughts or maybe he just paid very close attention to the way Gajeel stared, either way, all of the bite in Davian's tone suddenly vanished, "Go take care of your mate. He deserves your attention, I should think."
Gajeel snatched the jar from the counter and, without a glance back to the chameleon, he paced over to the blonde.
"You smell like salt water," Laxus muttered idly, "why did you go out there?"
Gajeel hesitated, "Just felt like it, I guess."
He glanced back at him and was startlingly perceptive. Gajeel felt rightfully exposed, "Felt like… what?"
Gajeel scratched at his neck and held the jar up in an attempt to change the subject, "Can I rub your back?"
The way Laxus looked at him, like there was an immense number of things he wanted to say but couldn't, made him feel like crumbling right there on the floor, "If that's what you want."
"Right… but I was asking what you want," a weary smile meandered across Gajeel's face and Laxus, blessedly, looked away from him.
"You can rub my back, Gajeel," he sighed and straightened his spine to roll his shoulders back, making himself relaxed and open as he drank in the sunlight. Despite himself, Gajeel was stuck staring again.
If Gajeel thought he looked like a fairy before, he certainly did now, framed in golden light with his mess of hair nearly glowing in it. It speckled across his cheeks and jawline, making his stubble almost look like glittering gold flakes, and if he had been any other person, Gajeel might have said he looked delicate. It was a long minute before Gajeel realized he was gawking wistfully, and only after he realized Laxus was shooting him a knowing grin did he try to hide it.
"Please don't tell me you were thinking about how I look like a fairy, again."
Heat started to crawl up his neck and all he could do was muster a stupid, lopsided grin, "T's nothin' wrong with lookin' like a fairy, is there?"
Laxus scoffed and rolled his eyes as Gajeel walked up to him and knelt down behind him. He opened up the jar and wrinkled his nose at the earthy scents, sort of surprised he actually recognized some. Yarrow, he was certain, rosemary, and a flower he couldn't remember the name of but could picture clearly in his head as being yellow. There were some other scents mixed in there, too, but he wasn't sure what they were, and figured it really didn't matter. He scooped a bit of it out and smoothed it onto his palm, over and over again, trying to warm it up slightly so he didn't completely shock Laxus with it. He picked a spot on Laxus's back where four long slashes raced up to disappear over the ridge of him shoulder and began rubbing his palms up it, massaging it in with his fingers. He tried to make broad circles, focusing on the ways his muscles tensed and relaxed as he worked his way up. Laxus took in a deep breath and it rolled back out blissfully, nearly a moan.
"You ok?" Gajeel asked after a moment.
"Mm… feels nice…" he hummed.
"Good, good," he replied rather clumsily.
He felt more than he heard Laxus chuckle, "Are you nervous?"
Gajeel's heart fluttered slightly, "What? No. Why would I be?"
"Y'just sound nervous," there was a bit of mischief in his tone, "Scared to put your hands on your crush, Gajeel?"
"Well I'm just so innocent, you know," he smirked as he made his way down Laxus's spine, working at some scratches that wrapped around his side. He leaned down onto his knees, framing Laxus's back with his body, and let his hand wander a little bit farther south than he probably needed too. Laxus's breath fluttered in its easy rhythm and he caught Gajeel's hand as it brushed the tops of his jeans.
"Oh yes, you're so innocent."
He rested his chin on Laxus's shoulder, "For some reason, you sound sarcastic,"
"Mmh," Laxus laced their fingers together, Gajeel's hand enveloping his, and studied them for a moment. Gajeel was thinking about how they fit so perfectly together like this, warm and skin to skin, but those gentle thoughts were brought to a jarring halt when he heard Laxus mutter, "I'm so pale."
"Hm?" Gajeel laughed, a little caught off guard and unsure of what to say, "It's just 'cuz your arm is against mine."
"I'm as white as a sheet of paper."
Laxus was scowling, his lip curling in a grimace and it dawned on him that Laxus was truly disgusted with how pale he was. Immediately, Gajeel wanted to ask when he started caring so much about how he looked, or why? And what was wrong with being pale, anyway? It was called fair for a reason, wasn't it? But he didn't say any of that. For once, he had the clarity to think, really think, before he spoke.
"Or dove's feathers," he murmured, turning his nose into the side of his neck, kissing the bite he'd left days ago with a bruise still flowering with pale green and dull yellow, "or… the froth from the sea after the thunderstorm hits, when the wind pushes the water farther on land like it's going to eat it all away. Pale like a statue carved from marble and soft as satin, smooth like cream…" he nudged up behind him, pressing his body into him, and Laxus let his head roll back onto Gajeel's shoulder, "Porcelain. White roses. Calla lilies…" Gajeel was mumbling into his hair now, breathing in his uncombed mess, "…but I don't think you're really white. You're warmer, like a string of pearls, or tumbled sunstone…"
"Alright, I get it," Laxus muttered and it was just then that Gajeel looked up to see the deep shade of red he'd turned, "you can stop now."
"Eh? But that was just your skin. I haven't told you about how your hair catches sunlight like dew-covered spider's webs. That you remind me of summer and the way dandelions dance in an open field, or how you're the king of any room you walk into, strong and limitless and…"
"Gajeel, I am not," Laxus snorted, batting him away before turning to look at him over his shoulder, "How do you do that?"
"Do what? Think you're beautiful?"
Laxus somehow turned a deeper shade of crimson, "No… just… that-that was…poetic. How do you do that?"
Gajeel smirked, "I just… sort of think of it. You could do it, if you tried."
"No, I can't."
"Give it a shot," Gajeel purred, "What do I remind you of?"
"…I dunno…" he could feel Laxus heating up again.
"As many books as you've read and you can't think of a few metaphors? Skin is a harder one, I'll give ya that… mine's… mine's not very pretty anyway…"
Laxus shot him a look, "What?"
He was sort of babbling now, trying to move Laxus's attention, because now he was thinking about scars and the ugly things that caused them, "Try something easier, like hair,"
"Your hair?"
"Anyone's hair, really, as long as it's something you're familiar with, something you can picture in your head."
Laxus thought for a moment, "Black? Like crow's feathers? Or… pitch?"
Gajeel chuckled somewhat nervously, "Right. Good start."
"How would you describe it? Your hair?"
"Me? The point is you…"
"Yeah, but you do it better."
Gajeel hesitated. He didn't think about his hair much, he didn't think about himself much, not in terms of appearance anyway, not anymore. He knew his eyes really well, of course, he'd spent a long stretch of his life hating them. He knew his hands, his arms, his scars. He knew his teeth. The things that he compared himself to weren't pretty, or beautiful, or really kind, because that wasn't the kind of guy he was or looked like. To Gajeel, his skin was leather and sandpaper, the aged wood of a bridge that had been marred from storms and fallen branches, it could beautiful once, maybe, but now no longer. His hair was strings of black wire, snarled ebony birds' nests, and twine. And then of course his eyes, which glistened darkly like blood freshly tumbled from a broken nose, or the wilted petals of a rose, a blade just used and tarnished with dripping beads, and in the light harkened to dead cardinals and poisonous yew berries. But of course, Laxus wouldn't want to hear that, so he set his mind to thinking of black things that he liked, that he thought looked pretty or beautiful, or maybe that Laxus would think was that way. Black was sort of an easy color, all things considered… it was striking, not particularly common, and always caused strong emotion.
"Right, well, ok," he huffed, "it depends, I guess, on the kind of mood you wanna set. If you want to sound romantic, you have to compare it to things that are romantic so… You could say, I have hair like the midnight sky devoid of stars, or like obsidian pulled raw from the earth. Raven feathers caught in the wind, mother of pearl, lava once erupted from the bowls of the earth and now turned to stone…"
"How do you do that?" Gajeel was startled at how breathless Laxus sounded, the way the words had sounded almost like a gasp. He turned again to gaze back at him, his eyes brimming with something almost like wonder, and Gajeel felt it stab like an arrow right into his heart,"You're incredible."
It wasn't his fault, really, when Laxus looked at him like that he just melted. He felt those words zing right through his bones and his whole body heated up like a conductive wire. He felt immensely stupid for wandering out into the ocean, because he could have missed this, the way Laxus's eyes looked like molten gold and held so much hopeless enamor that Gajeel could almost feel it flooding the centimeters between them. He was suddenly clutching Laxus's hand so tightly he saw the blonde's surprise, and something dismal and consuming surged up in him.
This could all be gone in an instant. It could all end abruptly and savagely. Because of him. Because of the things chasing after him. Laxus could be hurt, could be killed… because of his mistakes. His mistakes. He'd have to tell Makarov he'd killed his son. He'd lose the one person he'd ever truly fallen in love with, and then he'd lose everything. And then… and then what would he do…?
What are you going to do now, Kurogane?
"Gajeel?" the concern in Laxus's voice made him stir. His brow was furrowed, a frown pulled his lips downward, "What's wrong?"
"I'm… I…" he swallowed, forced the corner of his mouth to curl up into a smirk, "I just think you think too much of me."
Laxus's eyes darted to the side, and Gajeel could feel his argument building on his lips but they were both suddenly aware of the telltale sound of Davian's boot heels hitting the hardwood floor. On impulse, Gajeel whipped his head around to glare at the Major as he approached, baring his teeth. Davian only responded by placing his hands on his hips and shooting him a look of pure derision.
"Oh please, there's no use trying to frighten me now. I could hear your saccharine romantics from the kitchen,"
"Then why don't you take a fucking hint?" Gajeel snarled back at him.
"Hm, yes, well, someone needs to make sure you both eat, since you're obviously too astigmatic to tend to even your most basic necessities." something glinted in his eye when it was clear Gajeel had no idea what he'd just said, so he clicked his teeth and waved his hand between the two of them accusingly, "He's pale and you've both lost weight because you haven't eaten in a week. How either of you haven't passed out is beyond me."
Laxus rocked up onto his feet and Gajeel was sort of shocked that he was suddenly gone. The blonde had his hands in his pockets and didn't seem riled in the slightest. His tone was even and cool, "It doesn't hurt, you know."
Davian blinked rapidly, "I wasn't talking about…"
"You're not wearing your gloves. Has Irena noticed?" Laxus interrupted him mildly, almost as if Davian hadn't said anything. The Major immediately lapsed into silence and Laxus smirked at him, "You don't need to worry so much… and stop being such an asshole. It's not how you make friends."
He wandered into the kitchen to two plates freshly prepared, and neither Davian or Gajeel seemed able to move. It wasn't lost on Gajeel how the chameleon was suddenly disarmed, all of his animosity gone in a flash like lightning. He was glancing at his hands, his nails to be precise, and then his yellow eyes flashed to Gajeel as he studied him from his place on the floor. Davian clicked his teeth and folded his fingers together primly.
"After you eat, I brought some clothes for you to change into, what you were brought in wearing, specifically, since I'm sure you don't want to take a long train ride back to Magnolia in… that," he stood awkwardly for a moment and then turned on his heel to follow where Laxus had gone.
Laxus was asking about Irena again, and dogs, and did you figure your puzzle out yet? And Davian wasn't just cordial, he seemed sociable, open and calm, like they were friends. Davian was talking about Bianca, Ms. Ulrich he called her, in that even tone of indifference, and flicking his wrist back and forth as he listed off things, talking about missing pieces and how he hadn't watched what was on the lacrima yet but he was certain as soon as he did things would start aligning.
You didn't watch it? Did you?
Gajeel didn't dare to ask because just the thought made him want to vomit. He glanced down the hall nervously, bit his cheek, and found himself scratching at his wrist. Friends… they're friends, talking almost casually about the worst two weeks of his life. His heart started to beat harder. Why was this so surreal? Like a strange dream or a nightmare?
There are some things you don't need to see. I don't want you to look at me differently. I don't want you to see me at my weakest. Please, please don't see…
He dug his nails into his wrist and took a breath.
"I still think you're wrong."
"As you've said," Davian's nails rapped against the counter, making clacking noises nearly as harsh as his boots, "but her journal, you see, it just gets… well it gets… strange. She skips from her research to talking about herself and the halfbloods and… it was… it was strange."
"She was crazy, Davian, she was fucked up."
"Yes, but, well, she made some interesting points. Father seemed to suddenly and without explanation begin taking in human devotees, wives, and having halfblood children, and then just as suddenly… stop. And not just stop having halfblooded children, mind you, It stopped entirely."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well… I don't know, but she was talking about imperfections in us, in our kind, herself. It meant something to her, at the end, especially the fact that Father stopped having children because – and, well, it's true – our race is dying. If all of that was continue the line, to survive, why stop?"
"…Well, It's old, right? Maybe it got bored? Sick of people?"
"That's too simple."
"Right… who was the last one born? Maybe you could ask them?"
Davian sort of scoffed at that, "Well, that would be me, and I certainly don't know anything."
There was an audible silence and suddenly Gajeel felt their eyes like beacons shining down on him. He glanced over at Davian, whose fingers had stopped drumming, and who was gazing at him with stoic interest. Laxus was frowning.
"Do you know anything?" Davian asked as if he'd been a part of the entire conversation and not just standing against the entryway pretending he didn't exist.
"Know what? Something about your fucked-up sister and her fetishes?"
Davian, his face looking more and more like a snake's every second, immediately put on that same face he used during interrogation, that pokerfaced, perceptive, patronizing face that screamed let's-make-a-deal. He leaned onto his forearms and rested his fingertips against each other. Gajeel focused on those hands, on his gold-painted nails, and then on the counter.
"I know you don't want to work with me. I certainly don't blame you, and to be honest, I don't want to work with you, either. Making deals with criminals, you see, isn't one of my favorite pastimes. But it would be mutually beneficial, wouldn't it?"
Gajeel gnashed his molars together, listened to them creak, "How so?"
"You and I both know this isn't over, don't we? There's something going on. You want to figure out who's still after you, even if I'm out of the picture. I want to figure out why you were targeted in the first place, and to what end. If someone was pulling Ms. Ulrich's strings, it would help us both to know who."
Gajeel scowled, crossed his arms, re-crossed his arms, and looked back down the hall again, "There was another one of you guys there. Can't you ask him?"
"Kahli is dead, I'm afraid, or I would have."
"Fuck," Gajeel ran his fingers through his hair, "Fuck."
"Quite."
The words came out as a hiss, "I don't want to think about this."
"You don't have to," Laxus said gently, "Don't… push yourself,"
"It's not…" he scoffed once, and then for lack of something better to do he scoffed again, "I'm not pushing myself," he realized he was digging his nails into his arms and told himself to stop only to feel himself doing it again, "It wasn't… I'm fine."
"Of course, no one is suggesting otherwise, Mr. Redfox," he hated how calm the bastard sounded, like they were simply talking about the weather, "But if you have trouble keeping your mind focused, I could assist you. I wouldn't even have to touch you, as long as you're receptive to the idea."
"No, you're not fucking with my head. I've had enough of that shit," the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, he was sure if he were a dog his hackles would be raised, "I just… I just stopped having nightmares… but it's fine. It's…"
"Gajeel…"
"It's fine. I'd have to figure it out eventually, right?" his voice sounded shaky and he hated it, so he just settled on staring at the kitchen island, studying the satin finish of the paint. Teal was such an odd color, wasn't it? Why did every oceanside anything have to be painted teal? Seafoam green, he supposed, was the actual color name. And coral. Seafoam and coral. Were those names made before or after people started associating them with beaches?
Quit stalling. Focus. Get it over with.
Just skim. Don't dwell on needles and heat and restraints. Stop itching at your wrist, there's nothing there. Don't think about her, and those yellow eyes and silky voice. Gloss over it, find something useful. Look at it like it isn't you strapped down to the table but someone else. Laxus, if you don't get your shit together and figure out who's after you. Shut up.
Gajeel's heart was hammering.
What is it? What are you even looking for? You never saw the faces of clients, they didn't take them down that far, not after you were transferred. How many faces did you see when you could finally see faces? They're all dead, Unaven is dead. Who does that leave?
He was having trouble keeping his breathing steady.
Skimming only gets you so far. You can't read an entire book through the dialogue alone and expect to understand it. There's stuff missing, the meat of it, you have to dig deeper. You have to remember. I don't want to remember. I don't want to be weak again. Shut up, you have to. Grit your teeth, Kurogane, you've been through worse.
"Gajeel," Laxus was standing up and Gajeel held out a hand to stop him, not looking up, until he realized his hand was trembling, so he snatched it back into position around his other one.
"I'm fine, I'm just… I'm just… It's fine."
The easy part first. The end. You fucking coward. Shut up.
Caetus, remember Caetus? Remember his shining blue eyes and how they stared in horror as he was dragged through those tunnels? He couldn't scream, even as his comrades were tracked down. The Phantom Risers. He'd gotten sick of seeing those eyes staring up at him every time he carved into one of the guards. But he wasn't looking for guards, was he? No, he was looking for that bitch. He wanted her dead. The fucking coward, where had she gone? Where was she hiding? Why couldn't he find her?
He'd found more drugs and threw the bastard on the table. He remembered he'd had to drag him through the entrails of one of the humans – he didn't have to, he did it because he fucking could. Because it felt right. Because it felt like something fun. Because it felt interesting. He'd never done something like this before, so why the fuck not? – and he threw the bastard on the table. The table. A shining, silver table, because he wanted to see if he could dye the damn thing scarlet. He wanted blood. He needed blood. Blood always did strange things to him, once he started he just couldn't fucking stop. He wanted to be covered in it, to bathe in it, to swim in it. He wanted more.
Wait… wait… no… Since when had he wanted that? What… what had they given him to make him want that? That wasn't right… that wasn't…
He'd found the drugs. He wanted it to end. He wanted to stop hunting. He didn't hunt for sport. When had he ever hunted for sport? It was a job. It was his job and he hated it! What had they given him to make him want this?!
He stabbed Caetus and watched him die, listened to his throat gurgle and watched him froth and seize as he overdosed. White he was suffocating, he'd held his hand over his nose, and he'd watched those goddamn eyes as they stared in horror, wide and cognizant and aware of absolutely everything that was happening to him. Those eyes, the only things that could move, the only things that could move, the only things that could move… stared past him. Caetus stared past him as he died, not at him, past him.
That was fine. Maybe he didn't want to look into the eyes of his killer, that didn't make the view any less spectacular. The death had left a bitter taste in his mouth, though, because it could have been better. After everything he'd put Gajeel though, hadn't he deserved something better? That was fine, though, because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was that he was dead.
He'd walked back out into the hall, into the sprawling hallways, and somehow wasn't bothered by the labyrinth designed to keep people in. He'd always had a good sense of direction, hadn't he? Even in this place, as many rooms as he'd been taken to, he'd always known his way. He stalked through those open doors doused in blood, handprints from hasty retreats smeared on the walls, and he started walking inwards. He saw kids pressed to the windows, eyes equal parts terrified and hopeful, smudging the glass and leaving condensation from their rapid breathing.
He stopped at his old cell, at the open door and the electrical lock he'd tricked Laxus into frying. He stared at those doors forced open and faintly, at the back of his mind, he knew something was wrong. The doors were forced open, and that was wrong. He couldn't place why it was wrong, he just knew that it was…
Something twisted around Gajeel's stomach and he felt sick, "Laxus… the doors… you didn't force open the doors, did you?"
"The doors?"
"To the cell… I told you to shock me because in my head I thought I'd complete the circuit into the door and it would fry the electric lock so the door would open…"
"Well, that's absurd," Davian muttered and Gajeel dared to look up at him, "Frying and electric lock, assuming it's a good one, would just keep it locked. It wouldn't open the door, just ruin the circuit."
Laxus frowned, "What is that supposed to…?"
"The door was unlocked before I fried the circuit. Someone let us out," Gajeel's hands were shaking, "Someone let me out."
"Dragon Slayer."
He'd heard the voice and had lunged for it. A shadow moved at the end of the hall and he knew that gait so well by now, he knew who it was. The movements were all languid and graceful and low to the ground. It turned the corner, she turned the corner, because who else could it be? He tore through the scarlet-doused corridors but never seemed to catch up, she was always just rounding the bend as he got close, always out of reach, always too fast. It had to be a trick of the light, it had to be one of her illusions, it had to be…
Suddenly, he'd rounded the corner and there was no shadow at the end of the hall. He was raging and gasping and determined to find her, he would find her, Bianca was going to die! So he stood there and listened until he heard something that made his blood ice over. A scream.
"You really should have just killed me."
He blazed down the hall.
"But being the chivalrous little Fairy Tail mage you are, you just don't have it in you."
Where was she? Where was she?
"Thank you for that."
Cruel to the end, Aeleora. I always knew it would be your downfall.
Gajeel felt like he was seeing double, the past and the present all at once. He heard words he knew he couldn't have heard. I'm surprised you know what a chameleon is… there's not a lot of us left anymore. A little lesson since you're too dimwitted to realize it by now, as soon as you take your eyes off me I might as well be invisible.
"It's a shame… you were such a handsome young man."
An iron fist, blood leeching into his vision, his core, his everything. She'd slammed into the monitors and fucks sakes that sort of power was incredible. The rush as she crumpled to the ground, the fear, oh fuck, he could smell her fear! He was standing there in the room and he'd never wanted to tear someone apart more than in this moment right now. He wanted her to scream and beg for mercy, to plead and desire death like he had for so long, he could give it to her for a price, but there'd be pain first, there'd be suffering. In the darkest, blackest corner of his mind, he kind of wanted to ruin her. Why shouldn't he? Wasn't that what she'd done to him? Wasn't that what she'd done to those kids? Why shouldn't he?
"…I wonder if Kurogane might ring some bells?"
Gods alive, she was pathetic. She couldn't fight. She might as well have been helpless. There was broken glass and blood, so much blood, but not all of it hers. Some of it was Laxus's…
Laxus. Laxus Dreyar. He'd… he'd forgotten…
What was he doing?
Killing Bianca. He was killing Bianca. In the worst way he could possibly think of. And he did. And he watched her die not just to savor every moment, but to make sure there was no coming back. No one was going to save her.
"No one is going to save you."
Gajeel sat down next to her as she bled out on the ground. He listened to her breathing get more and more labored as she choked on her own blood, he watched her as she reached out towards the door, eyes pleading, begging for someone to come and save her. She was black-taloned and yellow-eyed now, losing color, turning from copper to tan ash as she died. She had been staring at the door when she died, staring and reaching, as if there were something there that could save her… how interesting…
With cold, terrible fingers, the realization gripped onto his throat like he was made to choke on it. There had been someone else there. They had been there when he'd gotten out, they had been there when he'd killed Caetus, when he'd hunted down the Phantom Risers, and they had waited and watched and led him to Bianca. There had been someone there, and they'd used him and his rage and his bloodlust to track everyone in that compound down and kill them. And he'd had no idea. Not once had he suspected he was being marionetted around like some mindless force. Not once…
How? How was he supposed to stop something he couldn't see? How was he supposed to stop something that could get into his head? What if it wasn't an enemy next time? What if… what if the reason he'd been left alone in prison wasn't because he was where they wanted him, but because he wasn't? His eyes snapped up to Laxus. What happens when I can't control myself? If I get that angry again? What happens when it's not people I hate?
"Gajeel? Yo, Gajeel!"
"Mr. Redfox?"
He felt sort of lightheaded, like he was underwater again, like he wasn't breathing. He sort of felt like the world was spinning, was hazing over with red, like he was falling into a pit of something, something, something that didn't make sense. He was so careful all the time, he was so conscious of his surroundings. He'd found Kahli, hadn't he? He'd kept Laxus safe? What if none of it mattered? What if whatever was waiting out there was waiting for him to be alone with Laxus, to take its revenge? A moment, that's all it took, and his hands were covered in knives. Even now, even now, they were knives. Look at him! The glittering iron, he could slice that pale flesh into ribbons…
What are you going to do now, Kurogane? What are you going to do now? What are you going to do? What are you going to do?
Protect him. Somehow. Some way. He'd protect him. Keep him safe. You have to, you have to keep the people you care about safe. What are you? Why have you lived this long? What makes it all worth it if you can't even keep the people you care about safe?! Why was he still going if he couldn't even. keep. Laxus. safe?! Why couldn't he just die?!
A flash of movement and Gajeel snatched it from thin air. Davian was standing there stunned because Gajeel had suddenly grabbed a hold of his wrist.
"You need to calm yourself."
"Gajeel," Laxus was at his other side and Gajeel cringed from him, eyes wide, not realizing he'd just gotten closer to the Major who took his chance readily and grabbed hold of him.
"Calm down, K-…" his face screwed up into a wince, "Kurogane."
Gajeel pulled viciously from him but his hold was true, he wasn't getting away, and he felt heavy. His free hand flailing for something to hold onto and it must have been Laxus because he was holding him up. Davian's eyes were wide and naked and he was staring at him, shocked and horrified and searching into him. Gajeel gritted his teeth.
"Calm down, Kurogane. You don't need to do anything."
Author's Notes:
I'm contractually obligated to never allow my readers a moment of peace.
I'm very sorry.
Also, I may have just changed Bianca's ethnicity in this chapter... to the same as Davian's... because that just makes sense. I can't remember if I ever described her skin tone or not so this may or may not be a problem. I know in my head I pictured her as a stereotypical busty anime character: super pale and with long brown hair (sort of like Cana but with a fuller physic, like round hips and thicker waist). But Davian is based off of indigenous North American tribes, like the Mayans and the Aztecs, as is Kahli and Orotrushit. And while I was writing this chapter, it sort of dawned on me that she was the only pasty one... and she really shouldn't be. So if I did described her as whiter than a jar of mayo in the first 30 chapters, my bad, she's definitely not. That's the one shitty thing about posting live, you can't exactly go back and change things once they've already been posted. Especially this specific detail, since it's been up for like 3 years haha.