Author's Note:

TW on this one guys:

Elements of non-con

Torture

Panic/Anxiety Attacks

Self Harm

if there's any I missed, please message me and let me know!

Chapter 103:

There is a saying that is mumbled amongst practitioners of the Old Magics that is regarded with a both a heavy portion of caution and respect: Names hold power. This is true. With a name, an object of intangibility is made into something that can be grasped. It takes a shape, even if only in the mind's eye, and shorn out from the ethereal and into a world that can ponder it, and explore, and root out all of the shadows and expose it to the light. Something that is seldom talked about, though, but is more appreciated in circles of the poet, the songwriter, and the author, is that not just names, but rather every word that has ever been uttered by the lips of a living thing, holds power. Words hold power, as do where they came from, their etymology.

For instance, there is a very specific category of words one might ascribe to Gajeel as he sat on the train, rigid, and with his back straight and his teeth clenched and his arms folded tightly across his chest, his one foot obtrusively in front of the door. Gajeel was... vigilant, and not nervous. Well, and miserable, but of course that was solely because of the motion sickness. He certainly wasn't paranoid, which was what Hajime and Juvia both accused him of before settling into their seat across from him, the old man with his cheek resting on his calloused knuckles, and Juvia with her arm looped around his, both now sound asleep for the better part of the last two hours. Gajeel could have been asleep, pretending not to notice the twist in his gut with each rock of the train carriage as they made their way to Ember's station but no, no he was wide awake and so was the kid.

The kid. The chameleon.

Gajeel wasn't paranoid. He was vigilant. A good quality, explained to him by Dr. Alexi herself once, when a drop of a journal against the floor had his fists clenched and eyes centered on the source of the unexpected noise. Vigilance was good, essential even, especially to a man who'd spent so much of his life fighting for his own survival. That was what it was for, after all, those honed senses of his. Being a child raised by a dragon, he'd needed to be ready for anything. Despite having a dragon on his side, caring for him, even a change of weather could be difficult for a child to survive in the middle of nowhere. And when his father had left him, that would have been all the more necessary. Then, navigating Phantom Lord he'd needed to be aware of any threat, including from his own Master. To sense his mood, to ascertain how to react in a split second, it was necessary. It made him a good wizard, an excellent fighter. It helped him survive the prison, made him perceptive, allowed him to sense danger. But what happens to all of that vigilance when there is no danger to perceive?

Gajeel's stomach turned into an uncomfortable knot, his teeth grinding together as he glared into the chameleon sitting just beside him. The lad sat in turn, staring nearly unblinkingly out the window at the world as it whipped by them in a blur faster than anything the boy had ever experienced before. Gajeel wasn't paranoid, but no, he wasn't vigilant. It was actually easier for him to think of all the things he was not than to recognize what he really was. Eager, he was not, since that implies ardor and enthusiasm. Avid adds to eager the implication of insatiability or greed. Keen implies an intensity of interest. And athirst would mean him moved by a strong and urgent desire. But anxious... well wouldn't that be the word to use? But anxiety means fear; fear of frustration, of failure, of disappointment. Fear, like the feeling he would get when Jose smiled in just a certain way, that twist to his lips that suggested something bad was quickly coming and Gajeel had better learn what it was before it came for him. Fear, like a quiet that descended in the forest only when a predator was out on the scent of blood. Fear, like when he'd thought too much about the past that day, and he didn't want to sleep because of the nightmares that might surface.

Anxious... but of course Gajeel wasn't anxious. What did he have to be anxious of? Some kid whom he'd lent his cowl to because the boy was anything but subtle, unable to get enough control of his fear to blend in like Major Bishop could? This kid who was dreadfully excitable, his anxiety permeating the air around him constantly like the warm thrum of a furnace. He stuck close to Gajeel's heels and grabbed the dragon slayer with each new and frightening thing they'd come across. Gajeel had lost track of how many times he'd yanked his arm away from cold fingers that suddenly gripped tightly to the hem of his shirt. Loud noises did it the most, and machinery. The lad had even started quietly sobbing as they stepped onto the loading platform, and then sat for the better part of the first hour of their train ride shaking. The boy didn't look tired, though, which was odd despite everything he'd been through. He should have been exhausted from the fear of the trip alone, not to mention how long he'd been trapped beneath the rubble fearing for rain to flood the cavern. It made Gajeel wonder if the boy just simply didn't sleep, or if something in his makeup made it so he didn't have to for much longer than he and his comrades did.

It sure would be convenient to have someone to ask, he grouched in his own head.

He inwardly winced at the thought of talking to the Major about all of this. That was where they were headed, after all. Who else would they unload the kid with than the only chameleon Gajeel knew of? Maybe it was a bit presumptuous to assume Major Bishop knew anything about the kid, but it wasn't like Gajeel could just bring him home. He couldn't live with himself if the kid went with Juvia or Hajime and something happened to them for it, although the two were pretty convinced at this point that the boy was harmless. Deep down Gajeel knew that too, but he couldn't help being suspicious. Every chameleon he'd ever met had hurt him. He was starting to believe it was just in their nature until this kid landed in their lap, and now...

The kid sat upright suddenly, his eyes trained out the window. He stood, a gasp dropping from his mouth as he placed both hands on the window. Gajeel curled his lip.

"Hey, sit down," he muttered, trying to be sure not to wake Hajime or Juvia.

The boy didn't pay him any attention. Instead, his face lit up with wonder and he began scrabbling to find the edge of the window, tip-tapping at it with his nails before picking and edge and tearing it out of the wall. Gajeel was on his feet in a second as a rush of wind began whipping into their car. Hajime and Juvia were awake and alarmed.

"Gajeel!" Juvia accused.

"I didn't do shit!" he snapped back at her.

"L-Lad! Lad!" Hajime was on his feet just as the chameleon disappeared out the window, his tail flashing about and hitting Gajeel in the face. It slipped through his fingers before he could grab hold of it.

Gajeel cursed and summoned his armor, clamoring after him. He saw the flash of a blue tail and realized he'd went to the roof. He could hear the discordant clicking of claws against the train's metal body and followed after it, digging his iron claws into the metal in order to keep pace. He found the boy sitting on the roof, his hands clutching at the rungs that ran down its spine in order to keep from being blown away.

"What the fuck do you think yer doin'?" Gajeel yelled over the wind, realizing that he wasn't trying to run.

The kid didn't look at him, instead he gazed at the horizon as it spread out around them, broken only by a blanket of live oaks, palmettos, manna ash, and smoke trees that always told Gajeel he was getting close to the beach, which in early autumn meant green with a spackle-dash of gentle yellows and reds. The sun was breaching the tops of them, pouring a blushing wine over everything its light touched. As Gajeel came up next to him, the kid ducked his head with a hiss, using his arm to wipe his eyes.

It occurred to Gajeel that a life underground probably meant a life without sunrises. As the boy shook his head and tried to wipe the painful tears away, Gajeel took a hold of his hand. He winced because the emotion on the kid was as painful as the angry throb of a wound, but he gritted his teeth and lifted up both of their hands to blot out the sun. The kid blinked through his tears before astonishment lit up his face, followed by a wide smile. Despite the mouth of pointed teeth, it wasn't the smile that Gajeel had become accustomed to with chameleons. It was innocent and winsome, and made it all the way up to his eyes. He said something into the wind, and Gajeel could tell from the inflection that it was a question. It took him a minute to parse through what it might have been.

"Sunrise," Gajeel said, pointing.

"Sunrise," he laughed, and said something else.

Gajeel huffed, sitting down next to him, "Yeah, kid, it's real pretty."

Gajeel had never actually been to the Major's house, but it wasn't all that hard to find. All he had to do was follow the foreboding feeling in the pit of his gut... and the directions of a couple of Rune Knights at the station. Maybe it was just him, but to Gajeel it felt as if everything on the street was off, fake, like at any moment a stiff wind would blow down the houses on either side of them like some giant wooden cutouts in an old cartoon. The manor loomed at the end of the street like an unwanted child at the very end of a dining room table. It seemed... strange, and hard to read.

"Remember, lad," Hajime elbowed him roughly, "We're tryna' get on his good side, y'hear?"

"Yeah," he groused with a roll of his eyes, "like that'll happen."

"Earthland's sakes, ye have a whim of iron," Hajime retorted.

"Excuse me?"

"Gajeel is stubborn," Juvia clarified.

"I ain't stubborn, he's an asshole."

"Good thing ye know how to kiss ass, then," Hajime smirked, "Cuz we need his help figurin' out yer mess, eh."

Gajeel ground his teeth together as he knocked on the door. There was a long, pensive silence only broken by another round of knocking before Gajeel heard a weak call from the other side of the door. The heavy portal swung open and Irena stood in the entryway. Her hair wasn't colored, instead in large box-braids intertwined with golden wire and buckles at the ends. She was wearing bright colors just like the last time he'd seen her, except this time he could see bruises and barely healed scratches peeking out from the orange mockneck she was wearing. The matching eyeshadow she wore did nothing to hide the red fading to a sickening yellow that discolored her eye. Gajeel tried to hide the shock at seeing her, but her wry smirk told him he'd failed.

"Lost a fight?" he asked flatly.

"This time," she said, crossing her arms and leaning into one hip.

"You at least give the other girl one to match?" he said, nodding towards her eye.

"Davian ran him through with a sword," she replied simply, as if it needed no other elaboration. Despite how haggard she seemed, she regarded them warmly, "What brings you here? Gajeel, Juvia, and...?"

She glanced at Hajime first before her eyes rested on the chameleon. Her smile faded slightly but she masterfully pinned it back into place.

"This is Hajime, a friend of mine. And him," he sighed, following her gaze to the kid, "We... I... wanted to talk to the Major."

"Do we have a name?" she asked, dropping her arms and stooping down slightly to make the kid's gaze. He shrank back behind Gajeel a bit.

"He don't really speak our language," Gajeel grunted, shaking him off, "We've been looking for a friend of mine and sorta... stumbled into him."

"Ah..." she said, glancing back over her shoulder, "Um... well, I suppose I should let you in, then."

"Unless it's a bad time?" Juvia asked.

Irena gave her an apologetic look but opened the door the rest of the way anyway. They followed her into the foyer where Gajeel's eyes immediately took in the immenseness of the place... and the disarray. Deep slashes went down the long hall to some shattered french doors and more debris past. It wasn't hard to see that there had been a fight of some kind. The back room was sectioned off with bright yellow tape and covered with plastic tarps that crinkled in the sea breeze like a morbid reminder. Gajeel guessed it would be that way until they could get someone in to fix the damage and refurbish the place to its former glory. Irena motioned them to follow her into one of the living rooms, putting herself bodily between them and the opposite room. He saw three large heaps on the floor there, two looking to be a couple of massive dogs, one of which had a cone around its head and patches of fur missing along with the crisscross patterns of stitches. He couldn't really tell what the other heap was, but it was breathing.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" she asked, "I'm sure it's been a long trip..."

Hajime replied gently, "That's not necessary, miss. We'll just as soon be outta yer hair once we talk with the Major-…"

"He's upstairs right now," she sighed, glancing up. She visibly hesitated, worrying her lip for a moment as her eyes flashed to the chameleon and back to the ceiling. Again, she put on a practiced smile, "He'll be down in a moment. In the meantime, let me at least put some tea on. This one looks a tad nervous, hm?"

With that, she strode into the kitchen, leaving the rest of them to wait. Gajeel let out a tense breath, breaking the silence that had settled with Irena's absence, "I don't wanna stay here. This place gives me the creeps."

"Maybe Gajeel should go get Davian?" Juvia suggested, passing over to Gajeel the briefcase they'd discovered, "Make amends."

"I don't think I can, Juv."

"Ain't no one askin' ye ta be hand in glove," Hajime grunted, "Suck up ye pride an' tell 'im ye need help. He's a Rune Knight. Ain't it against the law to refuse ta help ya, or somethin'?"

"He framed me. You think he cares?" Gajeel growled but nonetheless stood.

He turned to head back to the hall and up the stairs but a massive form had appeared in the doorway that made him freeze. A quick chill raced up Gajeel's spine at the inhumaness of the thing standing in front of him, hulking and broad shouldered, towering so that he nearly consumed the entryway. Short, hastily chopped hair fell into eyes that were slanted and large and bright yellow. It gazed unblinkingly at the four in the room and Gajeel heard a yelp from the kid but he didn't dare chance a look back at him. It took everything in Gajeel's power not to throw up his scales right then.

It opened its mouth and spoke, the action like the splitting open of a rotten fruit to reveal jagged teeth and a black tongue. Gajeel could usually pick out some of the language of the chameleons, but the way the words came out was like a hiss wrapped around growl. Syllables were punctuated strangely and Gajeel had no idea what it could have said. The kid replied through a fit of stammers, and all Gajeel could make out from what he said was that he was alone. The chameleon in the doorway bared sharp teeth in a way that looked far closer to a jaguar's snarl than any sort of grin.

"Rut," the Major's voice cut from behind him, causing the toothy grin to vanish immediately, "whatever you're doing, stop it."

Rut – Gajeel knew that name somehow – twisted his mouth into a grimace. His eyes shut tight for just a moment and reopened with disdain. He lumbered forward then, a hum that sounded like something from the gut of a crocodile vibrating the space around him as he did. He gave them all a wide berth as he headed for the doorway Irena had disappeared through. It hurt Gajeel's head to watch it, the way it moved. Its body shifted with each step, sometimes revealing more, sometimes fading entirely. Gajeel knew he should be able to see past its glamour, but even though he was trying he couldn't. As it disappeared around the corner, Gajeel caught sight of a long whip-like tail, there one second and gone the next, similar to the giant monitor lizards at Oragatohl'i.

Standing where the chameleon had first emerged, and looking comically small by comparison, was Davian. He was rubbing his temple and muttering something unintelligible before starting when his eyes passed over Gajeel first, then Hajime, Juvia, and lastly landing squarely on the kid.

"What fresh hell is this?"

"What is this?" Gajeel snarled, "What the fuck was that?"

"A necessary evil," Davian said, lacking his usual affectation, "And at least he keeps to himself as long as he's consistently fed."

Gajeel opened his mouth to demand what the hell that meant, but Hajime cut him off.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Major Bishop," he said, standing so that he might seem more respectful, "We were wantin' ta ask ye help, if you were available."

Davian's eyes drifted back to the kid who sat next to Juvia looking as small as possible. To his credit, for once he didn't look completely terrified, but he did look confused.

"No." Davian stated firmly. "Absolutely not."

"If you'd please, Major, at least hear us out-"

Gajeel sort of lost track of what was being said. He heard the low sounds of conversation from the kitchen, the grunting, hissing noise of Rut alongside Irena's casual tone. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the thought of that thing alone with her. How could she be so calm talking to a thing like that? What could she possibly be doing? Offering it tea like the rest of them?

It was Davian's raised voice that drew him back. He felt like he was seeing the Major all over again and it was a bit alarming. His shirt was untucked, a few strands of his long black hair had escaped and hung down to frame the left side of his face. He looked disheveled, unkempt, and his military jacket and sabre were nowhere in sight. It was so unlike everything Gajeel had come to associate with the Major.

Things began to click into focus for Gajeel in that moment. It was suddenly very clear to him that something had happened, though he didn't know what. Something had made it so that Davian had to ask for help from a thing like Rut, something that had destroyed half his home and attacked Irena and her dogs. Something that had left the Major so unsettled that he'd abandoned his precise care and composure, and even his usual pompousness and contempt. Something big.

Gajeel steeled himself and pushed the words out before he could dwell too long on them, "You said once that it would be better if... if we helped each other."

Davian's eyes shot up at him and an unsettling silence descended on the room. His pupils dilated and constricted again, like a cat trying to fully take in what was in front of it before it pounced. Then the disdain appeared.

"I beg pardon?"

Gajeel opened his mouth in answer but quickly closed it again when it became clear Davian wasn't looking for one. The Major scoffed.

"I believe the words you said to me were along the lines of you didn't want shit to do with me?" he punctuated the t on the swear, and Gajeel felt the venom.

"Maybe I changed my mind," Gajeel grumbled.

"And I am to be grateful of this?" the Major sneered, "How generous of you, Mr. Redfox, to change your mind, although I don't believe I asked for your help."

Gajeel's instinct was to yell something back at him, but at the last moment he tightened his grip on his resolve and tried to force his pride into check. It was extremely difficult, especially when the man in front of him was now staring down his nose at him, arms crossed with indignation. Gajeel could feel something odd about the air that made him tense. It wasn't what he'd come to associate with the chameleon in front of him, but it had no less teeth.

"You said," Gajeel spoke lowly, calmly, trying not to betray any emotion as he did, "it would be beneficial for us to work together."

"You threatened to kill me!"

"You framed me for murder," Gajeel nearly snarled through his gritted teeth, "And removed evidence from the Ulrich case so they'd sentence me for her death. What fucking reason do I have to trust you for one second?"

The Major revealed his teeth when he replied, "An interesting question from a man who in one hand offers friendship and in the other holds a knife."

Gajeel barked a harsh laugh, "He's a just some kid, Major."

"You have no idea what he is," the Major hissed back.

Gajeel clenched his fists, his anger bubbling up in him enough to make the edges of his vision red. Did Davian not realize that he wouldn't be here if he didn't have to be? That if he had any other choice in all of Earthland, he'd pick that over him any day? He wanted to punch something, or worse, to wrap his hands around the Major's throat and somehow make him understand his desperation through violence. Maybe he'd just shake it into him.

"Tea?" Irena said from the kitchen doorway. In her hands was a silver tray with a large, porcelain teapot and several matching cups and saucers. She gracefully carried the set across the room and set the tray at the sitting table, beginning to measure out the tea for each of them. Juvia accepted graciously, and Irena turned her attention to the chameleon who cringed from her slightly.

"Davian, do you know his name?"

Davian let out a noise like a hiss and a groan and barked a stiff question at the kid. He jumped and stammered through a response.

"Erandi." he said slowly, like he needed to be sure he got the name right, "Of the Yohual."

"Erandi," Irena said with a warm smile, handing him his tea, "That's a lovely name. Does it mean something?"

"He can't stay here, Irena."

"Of course he can. We have plenty of room." she stated, without looking at him.

"Ab-absolutely not!"

"And what are we to do otherwise?" she replied with a deceptive calm, "Leave him on the street?"

"Better than to have him here."

She straightened then, leaving the dishes on the small table so she could cross her arms at him, "Didn't we discuss this? Needing all the help we could get?"

"And don't you think it's a bit convenient, hm, that he should drop out of the sky at a time like this?" Davian bared his teeth again.

"Easy ways to find out." Rut had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, stooped so as to not brush the archway. His large yellow eyes were narrowed and Gajeel was hit with the smell of bloody meat.

"Sssmall thing..." it hissed, lumbering into the room. It reached over Irena and plucked Erandi from the sofa. He started and shook as Rut lifted him by the scruff like an animal, took a deep, reverberating breath in, and grinned, "Smellss like the chambersss... it has been marked."

"We still can't just leave him out alone," Irena argued up at him, hands on her hips.

Large yellow eyes swung keenly towards Davian who visibly shuddered. Gajeel suddenly found it difficult to breathe, like the air in the room was slowly being replaced by water vapor and he'd soon drown standing there.

"You're not eating him," Davian snapped.

"A mercy killing," Rut said, seeming larger than before somehow, although Gajeel didn't watch him grow any bigger. Rut's eyes focused on Erandi and as he spoke, his mouth got wider, "Quicker than what the Hungry Son would do. It could be painlessss..."

A lot of things happened in that moment. Rut reared his head back and Gajeel could have sworn there was no way any mouth could have opened quite that wide. He lunged for the boy but Davian had appeared before the other chameleon faster than it took Gajeel to blink. He gripped the larger's wrist and twisted it, forcing Rut to drop Erandi as he shrieked and flailed about wildly. His tail knocked Irena squarely in her stomach and Juvia rushed to catch her. Gajeel gripped hold of the kid and pulled them both out of the way as Davian and Rut collided in a way that made the entire room shake. Gajeel was back on his feet in an instant, metal scales bursting to life across his skin and talons spread ready to fight, but it seemed the fight was over.

Davian's entire body had changed. Bright blue feathers were growing rapidly, his eyes were glowing, and there was a sound echoing around the house like a massive creature landing in the eaves, making the whole house groan and creak. He held a golden knife to Rut's throat, and every muscle in Rut's body was taut, his grin turned now into a grimace.

"Don't you dare try that again," Davian said coldly, calmly, and with an authority to his voice that made Gajeel think Rut didn't have a choice. The large chameleon growled something venomous, something that sounded like a curse, and Davian let him go.

"You alright, kid?" Gajeel said through gritted teeth. When he didn't receive a response, he chanced a glance over his shoulder, "Kid?"

Erandi looked stricken and had dropped to the floor. He buried his face in his arms just as Davian groaned, "What now?"

Gajeel already knew, the kid had done it to him after all. He was praying, and his tone was panicked. Davian's face screwed up into a scowl, and the sound in the house grew louder.

"St-stop that," Davian said, trying to sound stern but his voice wavered, "That's not necessary."

Erandi didn't stop. The sound grew even louder, and the whole house shifted like it might just fall apart. Davian started speaking again, this time with a twinge of panic to his own voice. Still Erandi didn't stop, didn't even slow. The air grew thicker and even Rut was training his eyes to the ceiling as if expecting it to fall in on them. Gajeel dropped to a knee, his hand poised over the kid's shoulder. He hesitated to touch him, didn't want to feel that severe wave of emotion like in the caldera. Davian let out a cry and stumbled back. The smell of blood began to fill the room and Hajime had started yelling.

"Kid," Gajeel growled, gripping onto his cloak to shake him, "Whatever the hell yer doin', stop. Kid... Stop!"

Irena started yelling. Wind had kicked up from somewhere, making the room stiflingly hot and arid. The hair on Gajeel's arms and neck stood on end. Gajeel shook the kid harder, but it was as if he couldn't hear, couldn't feel what was going on around him. He just kept praying, whispering, and Gajeel realized it wasn't just his voice but another as well. He felt like something was looming behind him, something he'd felt before. When he snapped his head around to see it, nothing was there. His stomach tumbled around in his gut because he knew it was there, he just couldn't see it.

There was blood on the floor. It was black and smelled sour. Gajeel tried to concentrate on it, on where it was coming from. The teacups shivered off the table and clattered onto the ground. There was a hutch in the corner that shifted and began to fall. Irena yelled and Rut was there to catch it, somehow both upright and on all fours at the same time. Juvia was holding up Hajime who could barely stand, kept losing his balance.

Gajeel felt the shadow above him, closer, just at his back. He knew it was there, he knew it was smiling, and terror began crawling up his throat. Erandi was speaking in two voices, both of which he'd heard before. He wanted to throw up.

"Enough," blue light burst into the room. It was like fire, swirling out from and then falling onto Gajeel and Erandi. Gajeel closed his eyes against it, but it was cool to his skin and harmless. Erandi screamed, falling back and away from it. In a moment he was behind Gajeel, clutching at him as if to hide. The blue fire vanished, and Davian was shaking, barely standing with his hand on the table.

Silence descended. When Gajeel looked behind him nothing was there.

"Don't... do that... again..." Davian gasped.

Erandi whined, and then sobbed. Gajeel stood between them, iron scales still up, defensive of Erandi but confused with what had happened. Rut's glamour was gone and Gajeel could finally see what exactly he was. He hulked large and navy-scaled, his long, whip-like tail disappearing into the kitchen. He looked exactly like the anak of Oragathol'i, but massive and on his feet. He unceremoniously lifted up Irena, and she flailed a bit until her feet were back on the ground, giving him a frazzled thanks as she righted herself. Rut's long tongue flicked out lazily as one of his large eyes narrowed at Davian. Davian, whose glamour was also shattered, was the source of the blood. He winced as he put his weight on his leg.

"You're bleeding." Gajeel stated dumbly. Davian shot him a nasty look.

"You're bleeding?" Irena said, breathless, "Again?"

"Yes," he replied tersely.

"I don't understand-"

"This is why he can't stay here, Irena," he insisted.

"Look at him, Davian. He can't be over sixteen. You can't leave him out on the street, either!"

"I'm not bargaining your safety away over some ridiculous moral standing!" Davian turned on Gajeel, then, "Where was he? Hm? You find him in an alley somewhere?"

Hajime piped up, albeit still sounding shaken, "The lad was trapped in a caldera near Verbena."

"Verbena?" Davian blurted, "What in Oros's name-"

"We went lookin' for one of our comrades... Krew. The kid was a part of the group who was after him. They left him for dead in a sinkhole." Gajeel said stoically, "In Dreadwood Valley."

At that name, Davian straightened. A look of confusion followed by recognition passed across his face, "Dreadwood Valley..."

Rut spoke, but whatever he said came twisted and guttural. Davian gave him a sharp look and snapped something back at him. When he spoke, it was all teeth, his black tongue even flashing in a way that was aggressive and startling. Rut laughed viciously.

"Sssmall thingsss..." he hissed, swinging his head back towards Erandi who scrambled to get behind Gajeel, "Marked by the Hungry Son. Uselessss to the Favorite Son. Best to leave it out to starve or lose its mind."

"Excuse me?" Davian snarled.

"Maybe if it were bigger, it could ssstay..." Rut continued, stepping forward so that Gajeel felt the need to square his shoulders again, "The Yohual cannot hunt. The Yohual cannot fight. They only pray..."

Rut's golden eyes flashed and something smug crossed his features.

"Maybe Father is in little brother after all..." he hissed, his deep navy tongue flickering past Gajeel's face as he spoke, as if he didn't see him standing there at all, "Watch the little onesss go mad, grow strong from itsss pain, and kill the ones It doesn't need."

Rut's pupils expanded. His head turned, bird-like, towards Davian who looked like he was ready to scream. When Davian spat the word "fine" like a curse and spun on his heel, the toothed smile on the chameleon vanished. Irena let out an almost inaudible breath.

Rut swung his head back towards Erandi. His eyes swept to Gajeel, then, and again his pupils shivered down into razorblade slits. He paused, and Gajeel wished he could read the expression that crossed its inhuman features. His head tilted and Gajeel was suddenly extremely aware of the rush of breath in, the tasting of the air, and it dawned on him that Rut was scenting him in the same way he'd done to Erandi. Teeth flashed, and he snatched the boy from behind Gajeel like a move to protect him. His lips curled back like a cat that had just taken in something bad.

"Sssmall one... let'sss make use of you..." he said slowly, and dragged Erandi away.

For a moment, the four humans stood in an insurmountable silence before Irena finally broke it.

"I can't get used to him," she said quietly, in a tone uncharacteristic of her usual confidence and candor.

"Can't say I blame ye, miss..." Hajime said.

Gajeel clenched his fists. While the other three seemed to be breathing sighs of relief, he knew that their business was far from over. They'd come here not just to find a place to leave Erandi, but also for Krew, and Gajeel would be damned if he left without something to show for all of this. He steadied himself and marched over to grab the briefcase once more. Hajime opened his mouth to protest but he was already putting one foot in front of the other, skulking more than striding back into the hall towards the direction Davian had left. He ran out of steam quickly, however, at the sound of a man at the end of his rope, throwing a chair at a wall. He stood in the doorway to a large dining room and watched as Davian tore the feathers from his hair.

"I feel like I see those feathers everywhere."

Gajeel hadn't realized he'd said the words aloud until Davian responded venomously, "As do I."

"What do you want?" Davian said slowly, but he didn't sound like he was calming down. He sounded cold and enraged, "What more can you possibly ask for?"

"We're lookin' for a comrade of ours... Krew-"

"Ha!" Davian barked bitterly.

"-like we said before," Gajeel blazoned on, trying not to wince each time Davian pulled another handful of feathers from his skull, the nape of his neck, "he was near Verbena. The guy helped me, helped Laxus, I owe it to him."

"He's dead," Davian said incredulously, "How could you believe anything else?"

"He... he's not dead," Gajeel snapped back at him, "He was there... maybe a couple of days before-"

"Before what?" Davian said ruefully, his eyes flashing like gold coins falling under bright sunlight, "You know, I remember that name. Krew. Harsh on the tongue that one. I believe I sent a message to him through your better half, to mind his own business..."

"He helped Laxus-"

"And died for it," Davian cut him off again, "Pity. You're hardly worth it. But then, fools will be fools, won't they? Once someone feels a debt is owed, they're loathe to break it, even if it is in their best interest."

Gajeel got the distinct feeling that Davian was no longer referring to him or to Krew. He was crushing the feathers in his hand, revealing and allowing soft, grey ash to fall to the ground.

"What happened? I assume you know. The boy is hardly old enough to be at the heels of the priests, let alone fight anything outside of maybe a brother, cousin, whatever, in a childhood scuffle. And damn Rut to stand at the Precipice of Destruction and fall to dust, but the beast is right. The boy is good for nothing aside from being a devotee... a lamb... He certainly couldn't take on a wizard, even a poor one."

Gajeel tried to stay level-headed as he described what he had seen when he'd touched Erandi. Just remembering made his skin crawl, and he saw recognition flash in the Major's eyes when he spoke of the chameleon with the grand feathers that flared out around him in the same way as the feathered headdresses in the Auré's ceremony.

"I know he's not dead," Gajeel reiterated, clenching his fists, "If he was… I wouldn't remember him."

It was something about what he'd said that made Davian visibly pause.

"Why would you ever say something like that, I wonder?" he mused in a quietly violent way, a boa constrictor coiling tighter around its dying meal.

"Ezal..." Gajeel said, reminding himself again of the person he knew he had spent time with, but somehow couldn't remember. When Davian's eyes turned sharply to him he muttered, "Found face down... in the water at Ember Isle... I can't remember 'im but I know I should."

He seemed thoughtful at that, and his hand clutched at his shirt as if his chest hurt, "Well, for your comrade's sake I hope you're wrong."

"You think-!"

"He tears things apart piece by piece. For fun," Davian snapped at him, cutting him off in his outrage, "And he'll keep you alive while he does it, just to see how much pain you can endure before shock settles in. And when you're at the brink of death, he'll bring you back just to start it all over. And he will do it again, and again, and again, until your screams finally bore him and he decides it'll be more fun just to watch you die. For his sake, Redfox, not yours, do I hope his death is swift."

Gajeel's stomach twisted, in outrage and horror and denial. He took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. He had to get his thoughts in order. He had to-

"The hunger is gone, but I'm finding its been replaced by something else."

Gajeel cringed away from Davian who was suddenly just there, standing at his side. He realized too late that it was that exact reaction that the Major had been looking for. Talon-tipped fingers pushed the door in a way that should have been gentle, but it swung the grand oak door shut with a loud slam that rattled the doorframe. Gajeel's heart started to race.

"I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

"I did," Gajeel said lowly, guarded but still desperately trying to remain calm, to remain neutral. He'd come here... he'd come here to cooperate. He'd come here...

"I'm assuming this is transactional, this collaboration." Davian's voice remained indelibly frigid and calm as marble stone, looking up at him as one might on a deal they did not enjoy making, "I am now owed a debt from you, Master Dragon."

Gajeel ran his fingers through his hair nervously, "Yes."

"Good. I plan on collecting. I suppose it begs the question, what is it worth that I house the boy for as long as I am able? Answering your questions even if they are not in a way you enjoy?" he was stepping closer to him and Gajeel, damn him, took a step back.

"As long as you're able?" Gajeel said, trying to wrestle his breathing down into some semblance of nonchalance.

The corner of the Major's lip quirked, "He won't be staying long... and it's out of my hands. Quite frankly, it's out of yours as well. You just don't know it."

"You sayin' I was supposed to bring him here?" Gajeel tried to keep his voice even, "Why?"

Davian levelled his gaze to the briefcase in Gajeel's hand. His brow twitched. Gajeel mechanically brought it up and placed it on the table and, standing back as if he were scared the Major would turn on him in a second, he flipped it open. The Major's face remained stoic as he gazed at the contents.

Krew hadn't exactly been methodical in his scribing or musings. There were pages of notes, scraps of newspaper clippings, and roughly drawn maps and sigils. All of it looked as if it had been hastily shoved together. During their train ride, Hajime, Juvia and Gajeel all tried to parse through it, but with little method to the madness contained inside it was almost useless. Davian, though, seemed to pick out something in the mess of it. It was an article, one that Gajeel remembered talking about missing kids in a tiny town Laxus had visited back when he was still in prison. The Major shifted on his feet as he gently began plucking out different items and aligning them in some sort of order.

"May I ask why you've brought these to me? His notes, I presume?" he asked, flipping through pages, "That is, assuming you don't refer to yourself in the third person, or as Kurogane?"

A bit of his usual tone came back, then, which was strangely relieving. The air he usually kept about him was returning. Maybe it was the familiarity to how he acted in the prison. Even his posture straightened, the sharp edges of a rigid man of regimen replacing the haggard look he'd had earlier. Gajeel forced himself to unlock his jaw, to try and relax and appear open, but his resentment of the man in front of him was stubborn.

"We picked them up, but it doesn't make much sense to me... thought maybe you might find them... useful..."

Davian's eyes fluttered closed, the only thing betraying how aware he was of Gajeel's carefully chosen words being the slight shake of his head to himself before gathering a few pages of what looked to be mugshots along with their corresponding notes.

"These missing inmates? On order of Father. Some were relatives, other simply involved in things they shouldn't have been. They were transferred to the prison near Verbena. A few committed suicide by Rune Knight on the way, but most of them made it, not that the guards remember them. If they did, they might have recalled how they'd been last seen wandering into the desert. I believed that had been intended for you... eventually."

"You killed them?" Gajeel said, feeling oddly numb.

"Not personally. Not them." he reached to one of the spread, his eyes turning keenly to Gajeel as he did, and he tapped a black talon on the page, "The boys brought to Bianca? He's the one who found most of them."

To another he did the same, his claws clicking against the table.

"He sold the recordings of what they did to those boys."

Gajeel's chest spidered with something black and painful.

"It was intended that there would be no witnesses to her. Not what she did, mind you, but to her existence. The other was just a side effect."

"That's why you killed Unaven." Gajeel said quietly.

"I was being... opportunistic," his reply was sly and he leaned back, finally straightening his spine once again, "Your comrade, what sort of research was he doing? Dreadwood Valley is an interesting place to end up... especially after visiting an old site like Oragatohl'i."

"You know the place?" Gajeel found himself asking, his anxiety bunching up in his gut like so many twisted copper strings. He could feel something building in the room, something akin to what he'd felt once, what could have been ages ago, in the Ember Island Prison courtyard, "You been there?"

"No, I haven't." the Major gave him a hard stare, "You have."

"The whole place felt... off. And there were lizards everywhere."

"Of course," Davian said, simply, "they were worshipped as children of Oros. It's no surprise they would protect what is left over. It's a shame what happened to it. From what I've read, it used to be a beautiful place."

Gajeel's lip curled a bit, "Didn't care for the interior decorating, myself."

Davian sucked in a sharp breath for just a moment, before it suddenly melted in a bemused chuckle. Something dark danced in his eyes, "Find anything enlightening?"

"Your brother," Gajeel snarled, "Orotrushit?"

His smile vanished and he visibly flinched. Gajeel felt that haze spike suddenly. It tasted like there was rage in the air, like hot metal and static.

"Why?"

"You don't know?" Gajeel tried not to sound as suspicious as he felt.

"No," he said sourly. Davian's eyes screwed shut and his brows furrowed as he concentrated. His tongue slipped out as he spoke in that way it did when he was speaking his language, like it was meant to do that, "Oragatohl'i... we were a warring nation at that time. Captives would be taken. The ones deemed the strongest warriors were brought to the temple to be given as a sacrifice to the gods... to Oros. It is built over a limestone table, and deep beneath the sacrificial chamber the ground opens up into a large caldera. It was believed Oros would rise from the Underworld there, to take his due in order to keep the three realms separate."

Gajeel's mind flew to the tapestry in the Auré's catacomb. The gaping maw of Aowas and the warriors who shuffled towards it, seemingly unaware of their approaching demise.

"They lived with us. They would learn our custom, be fed and allowed a humble life of their choosing, until the winter – or I suppose the dry season – would arrive, after Oros descends into the Underworld following the... the autumnal equinox..." he paused at this, as if considering something in length before shaking whatever it was that came to his head away, "Oros's teeth, it's been so long since I read about it. It was one of the more simple rituals. It was only to feed the gods, it wasn't bringing anything into being. It wasn't a request for favor..."

Gajeel's alarmed stare must have broken through to the Major because his eyes flashed towards him for just an instant and he let out a tense breath.

"Oh please, come down from your perch, Dragon Slayer. The dragons ate mages because they hated the way they used magic, or just for the fun of it, because they were hungry and it was an easy meal. Perhaps your father and a select few decided against the idea, but the majority certainly didn't care. What were the Dragon Wars for, after all? We had no lack of value for life, it was the highest honor. People volunteered to be given to the gods and perpetuate the turning of the universe."

"I didn't say anything, Major," Gajeel replied as calmly as he could.

The Major turned his eyes down to the table. Again they fluttered closed. The power surged once more, and Gajeel was aware of something being drawn up. The Major was mumbling in his tongue, and it sounded like wearing myself thin. His tattoos shivered faintly and the lights of the chandelier flickered blue. He couldn't help it, his breathing began to hitch. The ancient thing from the courtyard, that damned fight against Zahir, stirred its own response from Gajeel's ancient magic. The air crackled despite how he was trying so hard to keep his iron at bay. He closed his throat around it, stifling it.

"I don't... know. I don't know," Davian's voice ratcheted up in a miserable way, "Why? For some sort of game? Entertainment, perhaps?"

"I heard things... saw things... Bianca, with her throat cut open," Gajeel recounted, the look of it stuck in his mind's eye. The threads of her muscles, her tendons, sliced open and bleeding although there was no blood, how she would smile and her throat would as well, from one ear to the other.

"Hardly helpful," he spat, and the energy strained, pushed, and Gajeel felt that maybe it was searching just as Davian was searching his own memories, "How many levels? Five? Six. The temple is six. The first chamber was for the blessing, calling on the god's favor, the next was to start the cleanse. A leaving behind of worldly possessions, a cleanse of the soul first, and then deeper, the body. Copal incense, myrrh, sacred feathers... the alter, heart removed and the body rolled down into the depths of the place..."

Gajeel winced because he could feel it, the harsh splash of a body falling from such a great height into black water below. It was like a memory being pressed down by the fitful presence around him. The feeling of being sated, of sinking back down into the darkness, the other world beneath, of taking a soul into paradise...

"I know ritual, I know the Rites. I studied them for sixteen years..." the rage was back, surmounting into something, "What does feeding the gods have to do with any of this? They get their blood, their offerings. The height of noon on the day of a full moon, a body is rolled down the steps of the Temple of the Sun. I feel it, I know it to be true. Why in Oros's Death and Rebirth would feeding the gods have anything to do with this? I want to believe it was for no reason at all, to scare you, maybe, for fun, but Orotrushit doesn't work that way. There's always a reason."

"He said he wanted a good look at me." Gajeel said quietly, and at that, the Major opened his eyes.

"Did he get it?" when Gajeel didn't immediately respond he made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a whine but ended in a hot, breathy hiss, "It would have felt like... ah, like, he was carding through your memories. Painfully, knowing him. Opening old wounds, forcing you to feel things or remember something..."

Gajeel gritted his teeth and the Major was rubbing at his temples.

"Why? What would he need from you of all people?" the rage swelled to the point of becoming unfettered. The space was invaded and Gajeel could feel its presence as if it would suddenly press him to the side of the wall. It made his head swim and iron boil up into his mouth. He shivered with the sudden, ferocious need to tear something apart, "I'd kill him... I'd kill him if I could do it in a way that mattered. A hundred times, a thousand, however many times it took. If I could rip his head off, maybe... Maybe that would work. Or maybe he'd just know some cursed way to grow a new one-"

Davian quite suddenly reached for his sabre where it had been hung from the back of one of the chairs. Gajeel, at first, lurched into a defensive stance because he didn't know if that blade was suddenly coming towards him, except Davian dropped the thing unceremoniously on the table. Gajeel stared down at the silvery metal, at the sharp edge, and the nick in it.

"I ran him through... twice, twice... and he just... he just healed it." the bubbling rage finally began to dissolve, sifting down like dust in a disturbed house. Gajeel's stomach was still boiling.

"He's the one who did that to Irena?" Gajeel growled, slowly, meticulously, unclenching his fists.

"Trying to kill her, to take her away from me. And Keirin's lung was collapsed, his prosthesis destroyed... I'm not stupid enough to believe Rut could kill him. I wish that he could. But perhaps the two of us could hold him off should he return to finish what he started. If it were just me, perhaps I wouldn't care so much. But as it seems, Keirin's the only one who will listen to reason... not that he really had a choice."

The Major ran his hand down his face, calm, finally, and miserable looking, "That's it. That's all I have. Although, of course, I can assume you want to know where Father is? If I could tell you, would I? Would it even matter? It's not like you could waltz up to It and kill It. But as it stands... I couldn't even say a thing if I tried. No doubt we'd both end up confused, standing here and wondering what we were even talking about... or why..."

"What do you mean you can't tell me?" Gajeel demanded. But Davian just sighed tiredly.

"As I said, I can't. It won't let me," he was stepping away from him now, leaving his sabre on the table as he did, beginning the process of pulling himself back together as he paced around to the other side of the room. He was tucking in his shirt with one hand and with the other, he was propping open the cover of a book, revealing handwritten pages, "I had a conversation with your better half. Neither of us remember its conclusion. I remember thinking I needed to write something down, and when I realized something was wrong-"

He slid the book over to Gajeel. In stark, black ink it went from well-organized notes to odd symbols iterated and reiterated in frenzied handwriting. Letters overlapped on each other, the phase written so many times it was hard to discern one break from the next.

"It says, I see you." Davian said, before reaching over and gently closing the cover. As he did, he looked up at Gajeel, suddenly once again filled with malice, deep and dangerous, "Now, there's something I need to know from you."

Gajeel held his gaze. He'd known full well this moment had been coming, he'd just hoped that perhaps by some miracle the Major wouldn't collect so soon. His mind was still swimming with everything the chameleon had just laid bare before him, and all this without a word about the journals and binders stacked upon the table. Gajeel wasn't sure he wanted to know what was inside them.

Davian reached between the stacks and Gajeel heard the distinct sound of a sphere rolling across the hard wood. It dropped heavily into the Major's other hand and he held it gently, rolling it in his palm before lazily tossing it into the air. The magic in the lacrima activated and it levitated there above the table. Even expecting what was going to be projected onto the wall couldn't have prepared Gajeel enough for what he saw. A wall of boxes appeared, stark and semi-transparent, each one showing a scene of a different dark, dank room. Gajeel's heart seized as the memories he kept meticulously locked away came rushing up to the surface. The prickle of his heat raced from somewhere in the nape of his neck down to his limbs. His mind rang with screams and railing against restraints. In one instant, he was standing there in a lavish dining room, and in the next, laying down, mind fraying, the weight of a woman with glowing yellow eyes and a wide, sharp-toothed grin suffocating him.

He forced his eyes down to anything except that wall of boxes, desperately trying not to panic. What had Dr. Alexi said about grounding again? It was funny how simple things fled you when you really needed them.

Just fucking look at something, he derided himself, feeling immensely stupid as he did so.

The rug was a mix of tans, burgundies, and browns, like the forest floor in late autumn, just before the winter snow. He took in an even, slow breath, as deeply as he could manage. He could smell dust and leather and oil, ink, paper, and the near buzzing rage from the man on the other side of the room. There were no windows, and one door out, past the nightmarish projection. The table was probably mahogany, and the chairs, though upholstered, looked uncomfortable and stiff. The chandelier was flickering ever-slightly, and it made the wallpaper's repeating designs of daffodils and sunflowers look as if they were twitching.

Gajeel realized his teeth were clenched so tightly that his jaw hurt.

"Therapy has been good for you," the Major's words were little more than a garbled hiss, but Gajeel couldn't tell if that was the Major's doing or from the savage beat of his pulse in his ears, "I do hope I don't undo all of your progress."

In a motion that was too snappish, too erratic, he reached for the pommel of the Major's saber and batted it towards him, across the table, "Might want to get that away from me."

Gajeel didn't look up, merely focused on the sound of the blade as it slid into its scabbard, the distinct click of it into its place.

"You'll have to forgive me, this all started because I was trying to nail down a timeline. Her notes are... difficult to follow. When I had known her as a child, she was a bit more irreligious. But what she has written swings wildly from objective observations to ravings about some contrived imperfections and what she believed Father was attempting to accomplish by having halfblooded children."

Davian was moving as he talked, and Gajeel couldn't even bring himself to raise his eyes. He just stared at the pattern on the rug, picking out stark, black dog hairs interwoven within the reds and browns, and tried to ignore the feeling of those monitors staring down at him.

"I'm not going to pretend to understand why she chose you, exactly. I'm beginning to think there wasn't a particular reason at all, that maybe it was misfortune that brought you to her attention. If you and Laxus had never taken those first missions, if you'd never stumbled upon her operation in the first place, this could have happened to any one of you."

"Any one of us?" Gajeel breathed, his brows knitting downward, his stomach dropping down to his feet.

"A Dragon Slayer, I think, any Dragon Slayer was what she was after. She chose you, not because it was you. Not really. Reading through her notes, it seems she was impressed you survived Laxus. She picked you for your fortitude. It wasn't... personal."

Gajeel glanced up to the screens, his eyes immediately training on one in particular. Him, strapped to a stretcher, naked, eyes rolling back as he fought to become cognizant. His mind's eye placed Natsu there, Rogue, Sting, Laxus, and very suddenly he felt like he'd throw up. He closed his eyes, forced himself to look away, and his hands trembled as he dug around in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

He could remember her screaming after he gripped onto her arm and threatened to rip out her throat. Her eyes flashing after she'd sliced open his leg, barely missing his femoral artery. Thomas Cross, hateful, bitter Thomas Cross, who always gave Brooks nasty looks whenever he talked about gender dysmorphia and what men had done to him in the locker room, had held his partner as he'd died from a severed femoral artery. Ninety seconds. His partner was gone in ninety seconds...

"You think you can try and threaten me?! Do you think you're not disposable like everyone else here?!"

His leg throbbed and he forced himself to breathe.

"I digress." Davian was closer to him, but in Gajeel's barely contained, panic-filled haze he'd not even noticed his approach. He was trying to strike his lighter, but his fingers were trembling too much. His wrist itched and he desperately wanted to scratch it until he drew blood-

The Major was at his side again, holding his hand aloft. His face was stoic, inscrutable, and when Gajeel didn't make a move he calmly reached over and struck the lighter. Gajeel took it back, focusing as hard as he could on making sure his hand stayed steady as he lit his cigarette and took a drag.

"Still have that knife?" The Major asked pointedly.

Cooperate. Gajeel thought harshly, bitterly, but even so he rolled his ankle and felt the stiffness of it strapped to him.

"Forgive me if I'm leery of it."

"Th'whole reason why I have it."

Did Gajeel sound levelheaded? Because he certainly didn't feel it.

"Will it be coming for my throat anytime soon?" he said calmly.

Gajeel's mind fuzzied, frenzied, screamed. He reached down to his hidden comfort, hesitated as he gripped the well-worn hilt. He pulled it, still sheathed, from his boot and tossed it onto the long table. The fine leather made it so the thing glided away from him and out of reach. Gajeel opened and closed his fist, as if he could summon it back into his palm. They both knew, of course, that he was still lethal. His entire body was a blade and he knew how to kill with his hands alone, but the gesture had the tension leaving Davian's shoulders.

"You know what I'm about to ask of you."

He took a dreg, and then prompted him further, "Your timeline... Major Bishop."

Davian's eyes flashed.

"Based on her notes, and your interrogation, I believe I have it. What I discovered was a block of time missing that Ms. Ulrich didn't write about. Intriguing, to say the least, when I know how well she documented everything."

"Mmh."

"Shall I be clinical about this?"

"Not sure it matters," Gajeel felt as though he were speaking through a vice around his neck.

"The first day, you were kept drugged. Between days two and five, you were moved between a holding room and a procedural room until you, somehow, remarkably, broke through your restraints, and paid dearly for it. And then on the sixth day, you were placed back into your holding cell, forced to endure Unaven and then left until Laxus was brought to you three days later..."

Gajeel didn't realize he'd been itching at his wrist until Davian's pause extended longer than it should have. When he noticed, he'd already left red tracks across his flesh. His skin ached up at him, and it wasn't enough. Vaguely, he considered that Dr. Alexi would be pissed.

"Or at least I thought that, until I attempted to verify with the data from the lacrima." Davian stated, waiving tobacco smoke away and staring, golden-eyed and angry, at him, "The sixth day, Gajeel, 11:30 am, what happened?"

Gajeel drew his eyes over to the screen. He took it in, stared, and felt his stomach writhe. He had thought he'd come to terms with the idea that others had seen this, really. He had thought he'd come to terms with Davian Bishop seeing this. Looking at himself now, from the voyeuristic view of a security camera, it almost didn't even seem real. That couldn't be him. The silver sheen of those scales, the whites of his eyes as he had fought to determine up from down as the sedative wore off, the sickeningly sweet air of the votives...

Gods alive... his heart was pounding almost loud enough that he thought Davian could surely hear it now.

"Fuckin' thing is right there, isn't it?" his voice hadn't come. He'd just sort of breathed the words. He forced himself to open his lungs, fill them. The feed suddenly came to life. The bitch was walking into the room and in the recording, she was deceptively normal. He winced at the remembrance, at watching her move nearer like a shark that circles in the water following the sinking of a boat, its wounded bobbing like apples ripe for picking. Static, blessed, contemptible static, bloomed from the center of the feed and covered anything worth seeing.

"It goes on like that for over an hour and a half." Davian stated, "Tell me what happened."

When Gajeel didn't even attempt to open his mouth, Davian let out a noise in the back of his throat.

"I investigate homicides for a living. If your concern is honor, well, I've been witness to worse."

"Not hard to figure out, is it?" Gajeel said lowly, realizing that he was at the end of his cigarette only because of the heat against his knuckles, the slight burn, "Think when I was a kid, we called it having a casual affair."

"That's hardly what I mean."

"You know, one time, I had to mop my own blood off of Jose's floors. He had these wraiths he would summon, an' their touch was somehow so cold it fucking burned, and then there'd just be blood... everywhere. They could tear you apart. I watched them, more than once, tear someone apart, and then had to mop up blood and pieces of them..."

"Focus."

"I think I'd rather be doin' that, mopping up my own blood off Jose Porla's precious cathedral floor, than doing this right now," Gajeel's voice was shaking.

"You could endure that, but you can't this?" Davian demanded.

"As stupid as it sounds to me, I'm sure it sounds even worse to you," he was breathing heavier, barely keeping it together, "But yeah. Or watch Juvia drown someone. Took forever, that, and I know how much it hurts when you breathe water in. Peaceful way to go, my ass. It just looks peaceful after it's over. If more people could smell panic, maybe they'd realize how violent drowning really is."

"Then let me see it," Davian insisted, "I know what I'm looking for. It'll be quick."

"For you."

"At this point, we have little choice, don't we? You can answer my questions or give me your palm. The choice is yours."

Gajeel almost put the cigarette out straight on his wrist, but somehow, he stopped himself at the last moment.

"Get it over with."

Davian snapped his hand forward and clasped onto him by the arm, like one might if they shook hands extremely ardently. The feeling that ripped down his spine was painful and familiar, like what Orotrushit had done in Oragatohl'i, but even worse, because it wasn't just the odd emotion or rush of something or even the feeling of old wounds spontaneously reopening, but images boiled somewhere behind his eyelids. Immediately, the most vivid memories took him over. Yellow eyes that turned a strange blue-green, a shirt that was too tight, long brown hair, the look of a throat slit open and the sound that comes from it as someone drowns in their own blood, and Ceatus's glossy stare as he overdosed.

It faded out suddenly as Davian grappled with the images. His face was twisted, his tongue lashed out like he'd just smelled something foul. Gajeel realized he was leaning against the wall, as if he'd fallen. He didn't remember stumbling.

Strapped down to a table. Heat crawled across his skin. Intense. It was intense, the way he imagined bees would feel crawling over you, or maybe hornets, with the occasional sting. I'll let you bite me. His skin was writhing, he couldn't move. There were two different shots, one paralyzed, one put him under. I can do whatever I want to you. I can make you beg like a desperate little boy. I can make you want this, make you moan and cry like the bitch in heat that you are...

"I can't..." it didn't make it past his throat. Bixlow had done this to him, too, forced him to remember and then later called him a coward for running away from it, for refusing to confront it. Revictimization, Dr. Alexi had said, If you start too soon, it can make it worse. "I can't do this..."

"You can. You will."

Bleeding out, slowly. The pain was almost cathartic. He remembered hearing his blood dripping onto the floor. The smell of it made the inside of his mouth taste like iron. People were scrambling and Bianca was screaming.

Gajeel felt lightheaded. Blearily, he recognized he was breathing too hard, too quickly. He needed to find a way to calm down.

He'd been so dizzy. His mind did that sometimes when the paralyzing agent wore off. He'd feel like he was strapped to a massive broken compass and it was just spinning. Spinning and falling, like that time he got crossfaded, or falling out of a tornado. Very suddenly he hit the ground, still strapped to the table. He could smell metal. The heat was ebbing gently at the fringes of his reasoning. He could almost think, could almost turn over the idea of trying to get free.

She was there, by the door, staring. Gods alive, he didn't even think she could blink anymore. He expected her to come up to him, talking the way she did, breathy and low and seductive, saying things that made his stomach eat itself alive while the rest of his body struggled against its boundaries with the all-consuming need to fight or fuck or both.

He needed to look around, to ground himself. A panic attack, he was having a panic attack-

She was... saying something? Gajeel wasn't paying attention, not really. He was trying to move, focusing on clenching his fingers again, on telling himself he'd get free this time. This time he'd make it. This time...

Her hand smoothed across his chest and he hated it. His mind was still there, dammit! It was screaming with the disgust of soft fingers trailing up to his throat but his spine was arching like he'd never felt something so blissfully wonderful before. When her touch left him, he collapsed and prayed to something, anything that might exist out there that the goddamn table would be ice cold instead of warm and humid from having his body pressed against it.

Talking, she was... talking... To him. What was she saying? Pay attention. What did she say? It's important to remember what she said-

Gajeel was collapsing against the wall and Davian, damn him, was the only thing holding him up now. His legs were jelly and he was shaking. Everything felt wrong and he was hyperventilating. He was trying to-trying... trying to remain calm but it was too vivid. He needed to ground himself. He needed to stop his mind from pitching back to that room. He needed-

"Therapy has been very good for you," Davian's voice ricocheted off his synapses, settled in his spine somewhere like an arrow loosed carelessly, "But I have to know-"

I'm going to disassociate again. Kurogane will come out and I've broken a pure, carbon steel katana with my hands before. How much force would it take to snap a damaged sabre in half-

"I will let you stab me, if it makes you feel better. Or drag that memory back of you cutting yourself again. In a moment."

"Fuck." Gajeel's eyes rolled back.

He'd dragged the strength from somewhere to pull, then yank, and thrash weakly against what held him. These weren't just cloth, weren't leather. He could smell the metal. Of course, they hadn't let him eat anything and he could feel the emptiness in the pit of his gut. He craved iron to heal, to gain power, to gain rage, but he was hopelessly devoid of it. He could almost taste it. Was it a steel alloy or just blood somewhere nearby? What kind of metal would they use after the others had failed? Something with high yield strength, high impact strength. He could find a way to rend steel, he could. But it didn't sing to him like steel, he couldn't feel it like an extension of himself. Titanium, Chromium, Tungsten...

She folded her arms across his chest and leaned onto his body. He could feel bare skin and he, he needed to have h- no... fuck, no. He despised the places she touched, hated the abatement, the twist of his stomach. If he could tear away the flesh she touched he would.

She rested against his chest like a lover. A curl to her lips in a way wicked and malicious and he wanted her so fucking badly-

"Whatever you're going to do, do it," his voice was deep with hatred, with vile disgust. Weak, he was weak, "Fucking put me under again."

"No," she said, her voice as smooth as the face of a broken piece of glass, the edge running across his skin to cut, "No I want you sober, Dragon Slayer. You're going to want this. You're going to ask me to fuck you, and you're going to be in your right mind when you do it."

He barked a laugh, "You stupid fucking bitch..."

Ohhh she was nervous. They were alone here, he knew it. No shuffle of doctors or assistants or bodyguards, just her. He just needed a few more minutes, just needed his arms to wake up, his muscles to function properly, and he'd do it. His mind eye held the picture like a lifeline, of taking metal claws to soft, brown skin and revealing the mechanisms of her body beneath. There are five liters of blood in the human body and he wanted to see how much of the floor he could cover with it-

"It's adorable," she hummed, tracing a pattern across his chest with her finger that turned to a point and began digging into his skin. He adored the pain. Craved more of it. Open his chest and rip out his heart already. "You think you'll be the one to hurt me. Break free from these and kill me, maybe? As if you could."

"I will. Mark me..." he breathed.

Her hand was slipping down his naval. A strike of pleasure, of disgust, his pulse jumped. He gritted his teeth to hold in a keen as his flesh anticipated her touch.

"I already have."

She slipped down to his thigh, the stitches, and pushed. All of his muscles contracted from the pain that he kept behind tight lips. He thrashed, trying to pull away as a finger dug into his half-healed wound, under the cord, pulling and twisting. He refused to give her the satisfaction of a scream. He balled his fists and tasted venom like froth in his mouth. Swallow it down, swallow it down.

"I told you I would break you. And I will, Dragon Slayer."

The stitches began popping one by one and white-hot pain made him scream. Her eyes softened, became distant and hazy, and she smiled. She interwove her fingers into his hair and pushed his head into the table so as he blinked through stinging tears he'd have no choice but to look up at her. Satisfied with the reaction she'd gained, she glided her other hand up and encircled him. Pleasure and pain made it so he couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Her voice was a breathy hum as she looked down into his eyes.

"Ask me nicely, and I'll fuck you, and then, maybe, I'll consider letting you go."

"Fuck you." he spat up at her.

She sighed hopelessly and dug her hand back into his wound again. Above his screaming he could hear her speaking, calmly, coldly, somewhere beneath the excruciating pain, "You will ask me. It is only a matter of time."

The pain did it. Gajeel fell to the ground, gasped, and wretched. Davian stumbled back and fell into the table, barely holding himself up. He swallowed down a sob, because it didn't end for him like it did for Davian. He collapsed as his skin crawled and his leg throbbed and his loathing bubbled across his body. He gritted his teeth and curled into a ball, solely focused on trying to get his breathing to slow and his pulse out of his ears. There was commotion. The door was thrown open and suddenly, there was silence.

Painful terror made him open his eyes. Hajime was coming to him, and Gajeel couldn't understand what he was saying. His eyes were on Juvia, on the stricken, horrified look on her face as she gazed up at the wall of monitors the lacrima still showed. It flickered out and he pushed himself up, feeling like his entire body was made from jelly. Hajime was talking to him.

"I need... I need some air." he fell into the wall again, pushed himself up, stumbled out and past Juvia whose eyes were welling with tears. He nearly tripped in his haste to walk outside. Past the kitchen, the sitting room and its dogs and giant lounging lizard, the foyer. He stumbled out into the daylight and fell to his knees. A biting, dreadfully cold wind whipped up from the sea. He could taste salt water. Clouds were rapidly coalescing overhead. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to calm the shivers that wracked his body.

He had worked himself down enough to realize someone was walking up to him. The footsteps were soft, sure. The wind was beginning to howl. He heard the sound of an umbrella unfurling. Rain started. Not as a sprinkle, or as a gentle autumn rain. It came down in the same way as a wave crashes against the beach. A moment ago, there were clean blue skies, and now a downpour. Gajeel was drowning in the smell and feel of heartbreaking rain.

Fingers brushed his shoulder and snapped back again when he gasped.

"Please, Juvia... don't touch me."

The sound of rain pounded on an umbrella.

Hajime was standing on the porch, watching the two as Gajeel pretended not to sob and Juvia stood guard over him. He whirled, furious magic making the air charge with static. Davian was standing in the broken hallway, blanketed in shadow. His eyes held in them shimmering gold.

"Davian, love, what did you do?" Irena's voice was small. She was in the foyer. Her eyebrows drawn down and pensive.

"What I had to." he stated. "I think I know what she did that started this."

His voice dropped to a threatening hiss, "I just wish I knew what it meant."

Author's Notes:

Soon we will be seeing the whole story of what happened to Gajeel at Bianca's hands. (Soon, as in within the next 5 chapters)

I'm sorry for vanishing once again. 2022 and the start of 2023 have really been something. My husband had a mid-youth crisis, I got pregnant, I lost my job, got a new job, my husband ended his mid-youth crisis, we both got into the black hole that is MTG, and I had a baby girl in November. My dad had two strokes and we had to adjust to life with that... it's been a lot. I lost my passion for writing or reading and did little more than watch TikTok and worry about how we live in a hellscape and what that will mean for my kids one day.

I've started reading again, and as you can see, writing. I'm trying to find myself in all the chaos. Life is good, it's just been a lot the last year.

I hope you all have a great weekend, beautiful beans. Hopefully, I'll be posting another chapter soon.

- Your Friendly Neighborhood StevMarie