Author's Notes:

So, my poetry is actually The Worst. The poem I wrote here is all sampled lyrics from songs I've heard. There might be like... four lines of original content in there.

Enjoy!

Chapter 90:

"I... um... I think I misunderstood... a little."

Gajeel was sitting in an uncomfortable, white chair, tapping his foot nervously. The journal he held in his hand was about half-full, the black cover worn down in the short four weeks he'd had it. He sort of took it everywhere now, and often had it open, writing whatever he was feeling at that moment in time per the instruction of one Dr. Alexandra Garcia, call her Alexi, because being referred to as doctor-anything was just too formal. Of course, Gajeel knew the real reason why. It was far easier to be disarmed by someone named Alexi, with a bright smile and almond eyes, than it was by a licensed psychotherapist. She had a round face and straight hair, the type of soft hands that were good for crossing on her lap or writing down notes when she thought you weren't paying attention. All that was fine. She was just doing her job. What he didn't like was the six other people sitting in the semi-circle across from Dr. Garcia alongside him, especially now that they were all focused solely on him.

There was Thomas Cross, an ex-detective decommissioned for having a psychotic break shortly after watching his five-year-long partner bleed out from a severed femoral artery. Gajeel had thought he'd known the fastest way to kill someone, but after listening to that story he reconsidered. It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. Gajeel himself had never had to hold someone he cared about while they died... he didn't like to think about that one too much.

Next to him, was Silvana Prats, whose thick black hair was always atop her head in a proper bun and who wore outfits that showed little to no skin even when she was off duty. She had even convinced her superior to allow her to alter her uniform to fit her standard of zero promiscuity. Apparently, her last commander had gotten her that way and like the good old bastard he was, he'd gotten away with it. Gajeel didn't blame her for staying covered, but he did still have to bite down informing her that for a lot of guys it doesn't matter how modest she looked if she's something they're after. He let Alexi handle advise, though, since hers was usually a lot more insightful... and delicate.

Maelia Elerius was always by Silvana, possibly because they were the only two women aside from the doctor, or possibly because they worked together before Silvana's reassignment, Gajeel wasn't quite sure. All he knew was he wasn't allowed to hum or whistle around Maelia, or else. He hadn't learned the or else, yet, but he'd heard some of her stories of her ex-husband and decided he wasn't in the mind to find out. She was kind of sweet, Maelia, and soft spoken, so when she walked in filled with relief over that piece of shit getting jail time a week back, Gajeel hadn't been able to suppress his smile.

Then there was Gideon Payne, a wiry guy who was all lanky arms and legs and had hands the size of dinnerplates. He looked like all he needed was a baggy enough shirt and a stiff wind to blow him away... which was probably part of the problem. Gideon had been the only one left of a battalion of five men after a rescue gone wrong landed them in the mountains during heavy rain. The ensuing mudslide had trapped them all in a cave for a week with no supplies. He was barely breathing when he'd been found, as the confined space had left no way for air to get in. There was a distance in his gaze that Gajeel knew well, and he was downright scary when he smiled. All of his comrades had been pronounced dead from oxygen deprivation. Gideon was a decorated veteran and survivalist, and so it seemed a lot of people were willing to turn a blind eye to exactly what had done the depriving. But Gajeel supposed that was really none of his business.

There was also a younger kid by the name of Brooks White who Gajeel had a hard time figuring out at first. He was quiet and soft-looking around the edges, with curly hair always cropped short and full lips. Brooks didn't like to talk unless prompted by Alexi, and in Gajeel's experience, that meant he probably didn't have real good things to say. As it turned out, though, the kid was shy and fresh out of basic, not having had much in the way of hands-on experience. It wasn't until the second week, when he'd walked in wearing a woman's uniform and quickly changed before anyone else arrived, that Gajeel figured out exactly why he was there, and damn if that story hadn't made his hands shake before the end of it. He decided he liked the kid, and so he took to sitting next to him during their meetings and shooting nasty looks at Thomas whenever he'd make his little ambiguous noises of disapproval at the boy when he spoke.

And then Lieutenant Serrill was there as well, typically glued to Gajeel's side in a standoffish way. Keirin, was how the people here knew him, because Alexi was big on first names and less so on honorifics. Quiet and careful, he tended to only participate as much necessary to avoid people prying into his business. Outside of the prison, Gajeel thought he was a pretty laid-back guy. He had played in a band when he was younger and enjoyed, of all things, punk rock, and the irony wasn't lost on him that he loved music that hated The Man while also being The Man. Apparently, he liked playing the drums and lyrics that had more screaming than singing in them. He thought the look of his prosthetic was badass, although the heat took some getting used to as summer rolled in. Occasionally, Gajeel would catch him staring and if asked he'd smile sheepishly and admit that he felt like he was standing in his arm, which was... weird. But now he was watching Gajeel keenly as he thumbed through his own journal, not quite as full as his but it wasn't like it was a contest.

None of these things, each person in their own right, bothered Gajeel. He wasn't exactly from the best of upbringings, so who was he to judge what these people were here for and why? They all had something in common, PTSD. And they all had to deal with it in their own ways. That was the point of group therapy, to work it out together, to have a support base to relate to. What got under Gajeel's skin was the fact that every single person in their group, and in every other one of Dr. Garcia's groups from what he could tell, was a Rune Knight. And Gajeel was not a Rune Knight. He was an ex-criminal. And maybe that had been why when Dr. Garcia had issued them all journals as a sort of daily assignment, everyone else had made some sort of catalogue about their day-to-day; what they observed, how they felt, where they went. And now Gajeel was fumbling over the fact that he had filled his with... not that.

"What do you mean?" Alexi asked, her friendly smile never leaving her face. Gajeel grimaced.

"I wrote poems?"

Thomas snorted, "Poems?"

"And songs," he said defensively, shooting the old man a glare.

"The journals are for introspection, to help you with mindfulness. Writing poetry is a wonderful form of self-expression. Just because you did something a little different, it doesn't make it any less effective in helping you sort out your emotions," she spoke smoothly, making a note down as she did, "Would you mind reading us one?"

"I mean... I don't think you wanna... they ain't exactly good."

"They're probably better than you think," Maelia encouraged, her brown eyes lighting up with her smile.

Serrill elbowed him, "If we can listen to Tom talk about bird watching, we can listen to your shit poetry."

"Keirin," Alexi warned. Serrill shot her a smile that would have been far more apologetic if he actually meant it.

"I mean... you don't really want to hear me wax rhapsodic about my lover, do you?"

"Do you even know what that means?" Serrill goaded.

"It doesn't have to be long, and it doesn't have to be your best," Alexi spoke evenly and she was no longer writing, "but you do need to share something, Gajeel."

Gajeel huffed and set his jaw, flipping through the pages. He could feel Serrill and Brooks peering over his shoulders and failed at ignoring the warmth surging up to his cheeks.

"These are good, Gajeel," Brooks smiled meekly.

"Shut up..." he growled.

"Do this one, it sounds cool," Serrill pointed, stopping him from turning the page. He glanced up at Alexi, "It's called Phosphorous Mornings."

"Fuck's sakes, Serrill!"

"Go ahead, Gajeel, we're waiting."

Gajeel was intimidated by her whenever she looked directly at him, because she put her entire body into listening, and even worse, she did it purposefully. So, he cleared his throat nervously and shot Serrill a look. The Lieutenant smiled innocently.

"Right... Phosphorus Mornings.

I will remember always me standing at the back doorstep

Watching the new day's sun hitting the side of your face

Illuminating the split ends of your hair

While I was smoking by the kitchen

You read a dead man's words in the early morning

Have I ever seen such beauty before?

Last night's love still coloring your skin with sunset

Your button-down clinging to your shoulders

Hair tousled and wild, eyes ignited

Like the veins of gold in rutilated quartz

We are two bright-eyed alcoholics

I'd get drunk off one sip just so I could adore you

And it probably would kill me to look at the stars with you

To glance the gilded edges of our identities

The distance keeps me in the mind of poetry

Of fire and wind and the feel of a world apart

But you'll come back to me now in a waking dream

And carry this steel drum weight of me

Effortless, just like the weight of your button-down

That one-by-one will come undone once we're home

Eternally young, old age never deserving

Take this gift of my undying love

Plant a kiss upon my neck as I relieve you of your shirt

I beg you lay beside me when all the world has stopped

And I'll be the love that first discovered sin

While bodies starve at borders

And the seas rise to meet us

We will live forever in mind and in myth

Until the day when I've lost the words to say

How resplendent your holy laughter is in phosphorus mornings."

"That was very good," Alexi smiled and he thumbed the page nervously.

"Does he know you write this about him?" Serrill asked.

"He?" Brooks grinned excitedly.

"He doesn't read what I write," Gajeel snapped, and then at feeling Alexi's gaze, he amended, "No that I stop him. It's just... they're my thoughts. To myself. That's what it's for, right?"

"Yes, it is," she smiled, "although, I'm sure he'd love it if you shared. You're a very good writer."

"Uh... thanks..."

It wasn't until after the meeting, while Gajeel was drinking on some black coffee and chatting with Brooks, that Alexi approached him. She asked him about writing, and how often he'd done it, and if he'd ever been interested in pursuing it farther. Gajeel hadn't, and assured her so, because he was far happier as a Fairy Tail Mage than anything else. They talked about progress, about how he'd been feeling, and about how she'd noticed he'd been standing up straighter as of late. He hadn't noticed really, but he couldn't argue when Brooks agreed.

"Have you been keeping track of the times you've felt yourself spiral, like we spoke about?" Alexi asked.

"Yeah," he muttered, "Been tryin' anyway."

"Do you write when that happens as well? Or do you only write about your SO?"

"Ah... yeah, I write about a lotta different stuff," he said, trying to miss the way she was looking at him. She looked like she had something to say but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. It was always sort of a mixed bag with the doctor. She cared, obviously, and part of that meant she also was honest. Sometimes what he thought was progress turned out to be something else, and he had a hard time hearing it. He liked to think he was getting better though, "I've been, uh, spiraling less."

"Oh, have you? That's good news!"

"Yeah, my bad times are at night, if I'm alone or I've been drinking. So, my SO made a bet to see if I'd make it a month without drinkin'. It's helping... I think at least."

"That was a good idea. You are pretty competitive, and you can use that. What about the smoking? Have you cut back on that yet?'

Gajeel heard a little bit of alarm and glanced past the doctor to where Serrill stood. He'd been standing with Silvana and was now retreating towards the door, a receiver in hand. Over the others talking amongst themselves, he couldn't hear the words, but Serrill's eyes were tight and he was grabbing his jacket.

"I think I'm leavin', Doc."

"Alexi," she corrected.

He flashed her a bit of a grin, "I'll let ya know about the smoking next week."

"Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything."

He bid a hasty goodbye to Brooks and Maelia, mostly because he had to walk right past them, and hurried after the Lieutenant. Serrill was halfway down the street by the time Gajeel caught up with him, and the serious set to his features had a sort of edge to them.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" he asked as he matched his pace.

"I'm not completely sure... something to do with Zahir-"

Off in the distance, there was a rumble. An alarm began to sound and very quickly the grounds began swarming with Knights. From everything Gajeel knew, it wasn't like the man could exactly burn his way out. Of course, that didn't stop his stomach from twisting when he saw the shield over the prison spring into reality a wall of runes that interlocked and reinforced.

"What in the hell can he do from his cell?" Gajeel growled.

Gajeel hated to admit it, but as much as he couldn't stand the Major, he'd made some very good and well thought out changes to the prison. The Major had listened in earnest when Bickslow had finally gotten Freed over to speak to him about Jutsu Shiki. It was starting to seem that the cold-hearted Major decided to actually care about people other than himself, or maybe he was just worried about his good marks with the Colonel, but he'd done away with the collar system completely after he'd implemented Freed's techniques into the prison. Along with that, he'd made a wing with far denser security measures specifically for Zahir and Mages like him with the type of destructive power to tear apart the prison, effectively turning is A-class prison into an S-class prison, and at half the cost the Colonel had originally estimated, and denied funding, for. Serrill had put in long and arduous hours, sometimes working forty-eight hours straight, but like any passion project he had with the prison, he didn't once complain. And from the stories Serrill had told, the Major had worked twice as hard as he had.

Gajeel did often find himself wondering what exactly had switched the Major from being a cold-hearted warden into someone who actually cared about the prisoners he presided over. But of course he wouldn't be caught dead asking.

He followed the Lieutenant into the prison, rushing down the halls he remembered but all looked so different now. He saw familiar faces but it wasn't like this was a fun reunion. All of the prisoners were being rounded up and forced into their cells, locks applied, and impenetrable walls of words barring their way to the halls. It had been smart, really, and who knew why it hadn't been thought of sooner. The collar system only worked if the antimagic properties outpaced the mage's natural ability to regenerate magic. They wouldn't need something like that if every prisoner's magic was negated within the prison in the first place. And there were even stronger wards on the cells so that magic couldn't be used inside them at all, by prisoner or Knight or trespasser. Gajeel had heard Freed lament how awful the job had been, but honestly, Gajeel felt more than a little relieved he'd done it. There would be a lot less suffering in Ember Island Prison now.

They turned the corner and Gajeel immediately felt the heat. Serrill froze up at his side and it took a moment for Gajeel to recover. It was impersonal and cold, like the concrete walls that flanked them. Gajeel had remembered Zahir's heat being so much more violent and bloodthirsty, so his mind spun for a moment and he thought it couldn't possibly be Zahir. But he grabbed Serrill by the jacket anyway and pulled him off to the side, trying to pay attention to the way he was breathing and how his pupils had dilated.

"Take a breath, Serrill," he said calmly, ignoring the faint taste of fear quickly tinging the air around him, "There's no fire, just heat."

Serrill's slate-blue eyes stayed turned to the ground as he held his hand to his chest, "I know. I know."

Gajeel watched him before the idea struck him to summon his iron scales, "C'mon, Serrill. I'll make sure he can't get ya."

He sucked in a breath and nodded once, pushing himself away from the wall and walking briskly forward. Gajeel stayed close to his side, his eyes keen on how much Serrill's hands were shaking.

Several cadets regarded him with confusion and suspicion when they arrived at the control room. There was a massive wall of screens, one for every cell in the prison, and Gajeel couldn't even fathom how they kept track of them all. His chest clenched when he saw the figure standing in the middle of the room, much like a sentry in the midst of a battlefield in the way the cadets rushed and shifted around him. The Major didn't even look at them as they came in. His shoulders were rigid and arms were crossed, his face stoic as he watched what was on the monitor in front of him. Gajeel pushed down the thought of Bianca and her own place of horrors, tried to cut off the voice that wondered if she had regarded him with that same indifference so long ago.

Maybe she did, maybe she didn't,he thought harshly, you don't need to answer that question.

"Major," Serrill strode to his side.

"I thought you were indisposed, Lieutenant," Davian said coolly.

"I received the alert, sir."

Gajeel wrinkled his nose. Maybe it was the doctor rubbing off on him, but he couldn't understand how two people who knew each other so well could still use such formal speech. But Serrill was serious about his job, and the Major definitely was as well, so maybe that was part of their strange friendship. It was really beyond Gajeel how the Major had even gotten close to Serrill, neither of them were exactly approachable, or even affable for that matter. He'd seen the Major around the campus whenever he had therapy, and even though he wasn't on the lookout for him, the bastard's presence was unmistakable to him now. Like two ships passing each other, they were always aware the other was there even though they refused to regard each other. And it seemed Gajeel wasn't the only one who felt that way about him. All of his cadets would stop still when he approached and salute. Gajeel still hadn't decided if it was fear that did that or respect.

"We'll have it under control shortly, Lieutenant. You can dismiss yourself."

Serrill's spine snapped straight, "With all due respect, Major, I can help."

The franticness around the control room crashed into stifling silence. Some of the cadets exchanged worried glances with each other. Davian barely turned his head to regard the Lieutenant. His eyes shifted between colors from behind his spectacles. The Lieutenant was bristled, clenching his fists through the tremor in his hands. Davian's lips twitched like he was about to say something, but instead he turned his head back to the monitors and dropped his straight stance to clasp his hands behind his back. For a moment, Gajeel could see past it to the creature beneath, but he blinked his eyes and focused on the glamour instead.

"As you wish."

It felt like the room let out a collective breath. The muted chaos resumed, although much more cautiously now.

"What is he doing?" Serrill asked.

"Something reckless," he replied, the slightest bit of derision sneaking into his tone, "I'm not sure if he's trying to burn past the magic barrier or just expend his energy. At any rate, if he breaks the wards, he won't last long."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gajeel interrupted, not liking the way the Major was speaking.

The Major didn't even glance at him in his response, "That's not really your concern is it, Mr. Redfox?"

"I'm here to help, Major," Gajeel tried not to spit the word, but he couldn't really help it. Serrill gave him an imploring look, but it seemed it was too late.

"This isn't a guild hall and if you cannot conduct yourself professionally, Mr. Redfox, then I'll have you escorted out."

Gajeel gritted his teeth.

"Lieutenant, we'll have to have a conversation about who you allow into the prison with you. You know protocol."

"Yes, Major."

Gajeel stifled a growl, a part of him just nagging at him to leave. Let the bastard figure out the problem himself. But something about the situation seemed strange and familiar to him, so he worked through the process of making himself calm down. It was difficult with the Major still methodically chastising Serrill for allowing Gajeel in, but finally he let out a low breath and turned his eyes to the monitors.

It was easy to find Zahir. The entire room was engulfed in violet fire. But to Gajeel, he didn't look like he was trying to break out of his cell. He was sitting against the far wall on a bed made from something that didn't melt. His figure was slumped forward, face turned down towards the ground, and Gajeel couldn't make out his features as he was most certainly was in his fire-demon form. Freed's runes shifted and struggled against the pressure and heat of the fire, pieces of them turning to ash and flittering away.

"What are ya gonna do if he breaks the barrier?" Gajeel asked as evenly as he could manage.

"Nothing. If he breaks the barrier, he'll have another. And if he breaks past that, Freed's next ward is set to destroy all of the oxygen within the cell. He'll suffocate himself in less than a second."

Gajeel watched the monitor flicker and fizzle under the intense heat and felt something in his gut get flighty with it, "He know that?"

"He was made well aware of the lengths being taken to ensure he couldn't harm anyone else in this prison," the Major said matter-of-factly.

"When was the last time he's been outside his cell?" both Serrill and the Major turned to look at him. Something defensive, and maybe even deeper, made his throat start to knot.

"He hasn't," the Major replied tensely.

"You locked him in his cell? For two months? Does he get to talk to anyone that doesn't hate his guts?" Gajeel growled, and at their silence he could hardly contain his outrage, "Ya let him sit in how miserable he was for almost two monthswith his own kill switch and you didn't think he'd try to use it?"

Malice could have been a real, slick substance that poured into the room with every syllable Davian spoke as he glared with blatant ferocity over his glasses at Gajeel, "Well if you have a suggestion for a full-proof system to ensure a dangerous criminal doesn'tkill everyone on an island isolated from the mainland, then please, Mr. Redfox, I'm all ears."

Well, that did it. Gajeel's eyes sparked darkly and the growl that ripped its way through his chest made the confined space shiver with violence, "If the Lieutenant would be so kind as to reinforce those goddamn runes and give me ten fucking minutes, I will."

"That depends on what you're planning on doing, Mr. Redfox," his voice sliced the air like an ice blade, stabbing at Gajeel with its biting numbness.

"What anyone does when they see someone about to jump off a roof," Gajeel snapped and turned to push his way past two cadets that stood between him and the door. One of them he recognized and who stared at him with disbelief immediately started stammering something to the Major as the door closed. Gajeel didn't stop, though, and he followed that noxious heat deeper into the center of the prison. It reminded him of the last time he'd been here, how he'd fought Zahir and nearly died. His stomach turned.

How in the hell was he supposed to talk him down? He wasn't a professional at this. And if it didn't work, wouldn't he be caught in the crossfire when the oxygen was destroyed? Assuming Zahir didn't just end him in a puddle of iron anyway. But even at that thought, Gajeel felt a pang in his chest. It must be maddening to be so shut off from the rest of the world, even one you couldn't stand. Did he only get contact from the guards? From the people delivering his food? What kind of life was that? How would anyone have a desire to live like that?

Maybe he was becoming too empathetic for his own good...

He could hardly breathe from the heat as he approached the block that was reserved for the worst of the Ember Island prisoners. Zahir was the only S class criminal, and so he was the only one here. Freed's runes were illuminated and shaking as they strained against the force pressing against them. Gajeel didn't know what sort of spell it was that was holding back those hungry flames but he could only pray it wouldn't stop his scales as well. He watched as runes before him suddenly became vibrant and blue, and just as suddenly, the wall of fire rushed forward and slammed into it. A sound like shattering glass alongside the shaking of the floor beneath him made him realize Zahir had just broken through the first ward.

Gajeel's stomach twisted and writhed and iron began to effervesce in his throat. He gritted his teeth and fished through his pockets, pulling out an iron scrap to worry between his teeth. He glanced up towards the ceiling where the lacrima sat watching him, took a shuddering breath, and placed his palm to the shining blue wall. It gave beneath his touch and the pain that raced across his skin made him recoil.

It was hot. But of course, it was fucking hot. It had scorched Freed's magic right out of fucking existence, hadn't it?

"Hellebore!" he yelled through the roaring of fire before him, "What the hell are you doing?"

The fire pitched and rolled, and there was a noise like some massive thing taking in a deep breath. Hellebore's voice sounded far more tired that Gajeel would have ever thought, "What could you possibly want, Kurogane?"

"It's hot as hell out here. Can you kill the fire a bit?"

The heat flared and it made Gajeel choke and wince. The fire crackled and shook, "That is the point."

"Dyin' ain't gonna solve anything, Hellebore. It's just an end."

"An end is better than an eternity rotting in this stillness..."

"Who says you'll be here for eternity?" Gajeel asked, throwing his brain to thinking of something that wasn't quite so useless. The wall of fire laughed.

"In what world do you see me ever getting free? And if I did, to what end? Shall I live the rest of my days in isolation, free from purpose? I was created to raze this world..."

"Created?"

"These runes cannot withstand my core, Kurogane. It will wither and fade in minutes..."

"What does it matter what you were created for, Hellebore? I was created to kill dragons. Do ya see any of them flyin' around?"

"You should leave now, while you still have time."

Serrill's magic was fading, the glimmer of blue reinforcement mingled with Freed's runes were fading. Gajeel could hardly stand the thought of going inside but...

"You said everyone you touch turns to ash..." Gajeel said more to himself than the fire. Now that he thought about it, even in Phantom Lord, he wasn't without physical touch. There had never been a time he couldn't take comfort in a body, in another person's presence. Nowadays, when he started one of his spirals, he'd seek out Laxus, to hold or to kiss or just to exist near him, to ground him back in reality. What must solitude like that be like, to not even be able to take refuge in physical touch?

Gajeel took a deep breath, braced himself, and stepped inside the fire. Doused immediately in the gyre of violet, it took everything in him not to scream. He shuddered in silence for an agonizing moment, everything in his body screaming to turn and walk out of Hellebore's apathetic ire, but he didn't. He put his arms over his face and growled at the shadow twisting and shifting in the distance. It was a small room but those short steps felt like they were ages away. Hellebore's shadow was hunched and thin like a vulture waiting on a crumbling fence. Those eyes gleamed as he approached but Gajeel couldn't gage intent at this point, so steeped in the agony of fire raging.

He slipped iron-clad hands around his shoulders and closed his throat around the noise that threatened to break through. Zahir didn't resist him, seemingly resigned to whatever happened to him at the hands that fastened themselves around him. But he did seem surprised, his body flinching like maybe he was waiting on Gajeel's talons to sink in and tear open his back. Of course, that wasn't what he did. Instead, he pulled the man close into his chest and tightened his grip around him, closing his eyes against the heat of the demon so close to him. He couldn't breathe for a second and at this point decided all he was waiting on was for the fire to suddenly douse and hopesomeone dragged him out before he died from lack of oxygen...

...but the fire was dying. Rapidly. Violet turned to purple and then slowly to a strange hue of blue, evaporating from the air and dropping into the scorched ground. It took a moment for the red-hotness in Gajeel's limbs to start to fade, but as it did he realized Zahir was shaking. He buried his face into Gajeel's chest and choked on a breath. After a long silence, Gajeel dropped his scales.

"You'll burn," the words were hardly a whisper.

"Don't really think I will... unless you want me to," Gajeel said gently. His paper-white hands bunched into his shirt, but it didn't hurt. Gajeel let out a held breath, "I've been looking for purpose a lot recently, too. It's hard. Life doesn't exactly hand it to ya on a silver platter. You kinda have to find it for yourself."

"And I'm sure you've found yours, haven't you?" he said dismally.

"Not yet... but sometimes I think I'm gettin' close," Gajeel admitted. Hesitantly, he carded his hands through Zahir's hair as it fell like a waterfall down his back. It was sort of funny. His hair was soft and smooth... it hadn't been like what he'd expected, "Purpose is a little weird, though. It changes, I think, over time... or as you change. I don't know, I don't really have it figured out yet."

Zahir seemed to chew on that, but then he also seemed resigned, "I can't live like this. I cannot be a prisoner."

"Then you gotta prove you won't hurt people. And that's gonna take a lotta time."

"And what a waste of time it is."

"It's not a waste if you don't want it to be. You can still make somethin' of yerself, Zahir, it's just going to be harder now. But you can still find a purpose in it, if you want to. It's all sort of up to you."

"That isn't comforting."

"I'll ask my therapist to help me work on that next," Gajeel laughed.

Zahir gave him a look like he might be crazy, "You… have a therapist?"

"Yeah… uh, it's been a rough life, especially the last few years. It just got to the point where I couldn't deal with it anymore…" he stopped himself, thought for a moment about the doctor and what I was like when he first started. He cleared his throat nervously, "I'd imagine you know what that's like."

Zahir was silent for an unbearable amount of time, but when he relinquished his grasp on it, he didn't seem able to stop. They sat next to each other on the bed mounted to the wall for what felt like hours. Zahir talked about his life, and if Gajeel used to think that rich kids never had problems, he supposed he had to make at least one exception. Zahir wasn't exactly created, but much like Laxus, he'd been infused with something that made him the powerful fire mage he was. But Zahir hadn't been miserable, he'd thrived off of the attention, turned into a narcissist. Gajeel had once read that there was a lot of narcissism in self-loathing, and Zahir sort of laughed at that idea until he turned somber again.

He was incredibly smart, which Gajeel sort of had an idea of already. He'd been tutored his whole life and was never allowed to go outside until it was that his mother decided he was ready to do that which he was made to... and he'd gotten arrested before they'd even been able to storm the capital. The Communion of Radiance, as apparently their cult was called, ended the same way it began: unremarkably.

Gajeel had been taking life before Zahir, but that was to be expected. And that didn't mean Zahir was a stranger to it, either. He'd started killing his caretakers when he was seventeen, and his tutors after. Then it was anyone who bothered him too much employed at the mansion. And he was banned from walking freely around the compound just before they'd been raided. He talked about how much of a trifle life had seemed, and how prison really wasn't all that different from what was familiar, but at least before he'd held the knowledge that it was all for a reason, that there would be an end. There was no foreseeable end to Ember Island Maximum Security Prison, not for him...

They talked about therapy and he let Zahir read his journal. He had some interesting things to say about his poetry, and went on about prose and rhyme and how there was an etiquette Gajeel wasn't privy to and honestly had no interest in. But it made Zahir's eyes light up a little bit. Gajeel didn't mind it, even when the room started to get warmer. Through all of it, Gajeel sat with his leg brushing Zahir's, because for whatever it was worth at least he knew there was one person he didn't kill just by touching them. Maybe it was just a fabrication in Gajeel's head, but he thought he saw the violet-haired man fighting back tears when eyeing his close proximity. He had no idea if that was good or not, but he liked to think it was.

"I'll be honest, the thought of Kurogane in love is... amusing," Zahir was smiling in a way that was gentle, if a little cunning.

"Ridiculous, you mean."

"I've heard stories about you, you know. Kurogane of Phantom Lord seemed so ruthless and bloodthirsty. He was... attractive," he mused, flipping through pages.

"See, this is why you don't believe rumors. But I'll give ya a pass since you were sheltered and all," Gajeel smirked, patting himself down for his cigarettes and found that he was out of matches. He let out a sigh and then realized the end was quite suddenly lit, "Thanks..."

"My pleasure," he said demurely.

"Supposed to be quittin' these."

"Does your Laxus not like it?"

"He cares less now than he used to. It's more the reason I smoke that he doesn't like," Zahir shot him a glance so he cleared his throat nervously and brandished his arm and all of its scars, "They're bad for me."

"So why don't you quit?"

"Alexi ain't told me I had to yet. I've changed a lot already. It's only been a month but I like to think I'm making progress."

"You seem determined," he said distantly, his eyes not quite trained on the words in his hands.

"Tryin' ta be..." Gajeel sighed, leaning onto his elbows as he stared at his cigarette, "Alexi says I'm too hard on myself, that it's probably from my time at my old guild. Like back then, how I had to train myself to think a certain way, I have to do it again. It's weird because it's me deciding how I should be thinking instead of someone else, and I have to stop myself from being a certain way and choose to be different. She calls it mindfulness, and says there are a lot of people who don't master it so it's ok if I don't. I'm still learning shit, I guess."

"I've heard of that before. My philosophy instructor also dabbled in psychology. He was nice, or at least he wasn't stuffy."

Gajeel hesitated, and breathed out a long breath of smoke, "I'm on the campus once a week now. If you want, I could drop by... before I head home. I doubt the they'll let me actually come in here again but we could probably talk."

"I'm not allowed visitation."

"Lemme talk to Serrill, he's not heartless like Major Bishop is. Maybe he can work something out. At least get them to let you outside once in a while. I thought you were white before; you probably glow in the dark now."

Zahir laughed and handed his journal back over. He took to crossing his arms and looking at the floor, toying a little bit with one of his long strands of hair, "You're not a bad man, Kurogane, but I guess you're not good either. You're kind... if you can visit on your trips back to Ember Island, I think I'd like that."

"I'll ask, then."

"Will your Laxus be jealous?" he asked, a sly quirk to his lips.

"Probably... but he also probably won't do anything about it," Gajeel admitted.

"Aw, well, that's just no fun."

"You don't know how petty he gets when he's jealous," he sighed, straightening, "and speaking of, I'm gonna miss my train."

"Would that be so awful?" his smile pulled wider, showing his teeth, "I can't convince you to stay longer?"

"Afraid not," Gajeel pushed his hands into his pockets and started his retreat back to the cell doors, "Don't do anything stupid, Zahir. At least, not until I'm back again to talk ya out of it."

His smile dithered, "I don't take orders from you, Kurogane."

"Gajeel. Only my enemies call me Kurogane."

"Gajeel," his smile completely vanished, then, "Until we next meet."

Major Bishop, Lieutenant Serrill, and a small armada of Rune Knights were waiting for him by the time he'd returned. Serrill ended up walking him to the train station, far more excited by the idea of Gajeel keeping in touch with Zahir than he'd really thought he'd be. He kept rattling on about introducing a suicide watch program for the prisoners, especially ones that were in for life sentences, and also about how ex-prisoners would probably resonate with them better. Typically, Gajeel wouldn't have cared to hear all about it, but Serrill didn't usually get so excited about things, so he decided to listen for as long as they were walking.

Back on the mainland and about halfway to the station, while Serrill was talking about locating other released prisoners for his supposed system, Gajeel noticed a shadow following them in the street. Whoever it was, they were large, and definitely not the kind of person that typically tailed people. They never got nearer than a block away, and so Gajeel could always make out their figure when he and Serrill would turn a corner. Gaging from Serrill's body language, he hadn't noticed their stalker, so he decided he wouldn't bring it up. When Serrill gave him an affable goodbye and went on his own, Gajeel took care to pick a place to wait that was out in the open. It wasn't exactly a shock when he noticed the figure through the train window, boarding after a few passengers had gotten between them.

He was secretly thankful he'd decided to get private seating, because it meant he'd be in his coach before his shadow boarded. But more than that, it gave him the element of surprise. He sat next to the door and listened intently to the feet shuffling down the walkway. He drew out his knife and was assiduous in its handling, keeping his wrist loose and body tense. He waited, and with each heavy step that drew nearer he felt his heart start to beat a little harder. They stopped in front of his door. Gajeel took in a quiet breath and let it back out again and let his free hand wrest on the door. In just a moment, he knew it was going to open, and when it did, he was going to strike.

Author's Notes:

Bad guys just need hugs man. That's all. They all melt like butter in a hot pan with just a little affection.

What? No, this wasn't just because I like Zahir. I don't know what you're-... Yes the hug was absolutely necessary and it will totally be relevant later. Yeah, that's right. It's plot related... that hug. Totally plot related. ...You don't know my life.

Also, the bet to take a month off drinking thing was inspired by real events. I used to spiral a lot like Gajeel does, though I hardly ever do it now. It took my husband and I getting into a bad argument before he brought it up and we made a deal that I would stop drinking for a month. It actually did a load of help. So , if you ever find yourself in a rut where you can't seem to pull yourself out of your sort of spirals, maybe give it a shot. And it doesn't have to be a month, that's just the deal I made. You could try a week first. And then another. I know a friend who's quitting smoking right now and that's how she does it, and she celebrates her milestones by posting about it. I always make an effort when I see it to tell her how amazing a job she's doing because, honestly, it's hard and it never hurts to have someone rooting for your success. Aaaand I'm gonna cut myself off before I start getting too sappy. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk xD

Guys, Ima be real rn. I have written over 25k words in the past two weeks. That is. INSANE. CRAZY. BONKERS. I have *waggles eyebrows* buffer chapters now. A few of them! I'm writing chapter 93 as we speak! And it's almost finished! Liek ha-wuuuut? It's crazy what I can do with a little free time.

I hope you enjoyed beautiful beans! Until next week!

Stay safe and stay lovely!

-StevMarie