Happy Easter to whomever celebrates! Did you know Vivaldi formed the first women's ensemble?

randomusername2, thank you so much for your speedy review :D how are you always so fast?

Isanien, happy to have you aboard on time - tells me work is not as stressful for you :) Thank you so much for your review! 'Pigeon sitting' xD You mentioned so many things at once, thanks! Also I'm glad you find the honeymoon appropriate - they're Fairy Tail after all :D

Mitzy123, (had to look up what I promised but it's definitely on, don't worry ;D) thank you so much for your review! I'm glad to hear you liked the Wendy and Erza scene so much, too; glad it fits well.

foxydame, thank you so much for your long review! I really appreciate it - I always look forward to it so much! Can't believe you liked the library scene so much but I'm all the gladder (if that's English). 'but guess who is more scarier and a kickass power couple' xDxD you really cracked me up there, also with the assessment of them playing and not playing but playing xD Now that you said it... Pigeon-San xDxDxD you're killing me here! Thank you so much for all of your entertaining and kind words!

Now it is I who shalt wish you all adequate entertainment.

"I don't know… go back to prison?" Jellal shrugged pensively.

"Even though they only just broke you out?"

"It wasn't as if I'd consented to that," he gave half a chuckle. "But honestly, I don't think we would've ever even thought about forming Crime Sorcière if it hadn't been for Meredy," he explained, eyes on the muddy path ahead. The man in his back did not give a sound, still unconscious, just like his overweight accomplice.

It had hardly taken two minutes to capture them. Jumping off their cart and hiding in the nearby undergrowth had been easy. Dashing out and taking the horses almost easier. Erza had watched, and he had helped her mount the second horse. The men sat behind them, knocked out and rendered immobile by Bind Snake.

"You should tell her that," Erza smiled from atop her horse. "It won't make her feel any more like your sister, but I'm sure she'll appreciate knowing that you and Ultear both found your purpose of living on in her,"

"And you,"

"And me," her smile softened. She reached out a hand and he took it.

"I don't think she'd see me as a father figure – thank goodness – no matter what I tell her," he let go of his wife's hand, spurring his horse slightly when the path became too narrow for them to ride side by side. "I was like…" put a finger to his chin, "an evil step-uncle or so," he grinned over his shoulder. Erza giggled.

She stopped when his horse chose the thicket ahead instead of turning with the curving path. Jellal halted it, her own following suit. He frowned. Looking around carefully, he scrutinised the grass below. I was not trampled, but the buds of the flowers left and right were snapped off.

"Let's take the path to town," he muttered. Turning his horse around, he followed Erza's through the mud. Stansburry was not far anymore. They could already see a cathedral's awe-inspiring towers loom high up into the sky, towering the treetops of the surrounding forest. There was one more roof already visible, all the way up on the furthest hill. It was the mansion, Jellal suspected.

"It's their hidden passage," Erza quietly concluded.

"It's a risk to go to town now, but we need to get rid of these first," he said, nudging his shoulder into that of the delinquent behind him. He knew Erza's sense of righteousness was too strong as to just leave them tied up in the forest. They might not come back for a while or forget where they had parked them. That, and outside of the police station existed the chance of someone exchanging information with the two men.

Finding the police station, they unloaded their human baggage. The police – obviously having heard of the foreigners who had captured an entire organisation of robbers within a single night – stood at attention, saluting to the to them completely unknown couple. Jellal only shook his head, and Erza giggled.

"Please make sure they don't get into contact with anyone," Jellal strictly ordered. "No cleaning staff or warden other than you is to come anywhere near them until we return for instructions," he clarified.

"Yes, Sir!" The policemen called in unison. Jellal frowned. Erza watched as his expression changed, an idea having come to him. Oh, she loved to see him in action. It was not only one heck of a turn on to see him either flex his muscles or brains, but it relaxed her. She did not feel as if she had to prove herself when around him; as if she had to take the lead like with the rest of her team.

Jellal glanced at her, a smile flashing over his eyes. He could read her thoughts, the same seductive smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Not least in recollection of their previous mission.

"Mobilise all other available men and surround the mansion of the man who had his wife kidnapped," he said. For the first time, the officers seemed slightly dubious. "In the name of the Magic Council," Jellal switched gears, making impressed eyes widen, "you are to surround and secure the building for no one to enter or leave, apart from the owner himself. He is to stay with you should he wish to exit his property," Jellal commanded. All scepsis wiped off their faces – by far too easily, he found – the police went to send out their troops.

Erza's hand found her husband's as they left the station.

"They didn't even ask for any identification," she remarked.

"And I'm glad they didn't," Jellal sheepishly grinned. He searched the street with his eyes, steering them towards the first hotel he saw. "Not that I lied, but I wouldn't have been able to prove it,"

"The Magic Council's branch here could have vouched for you," she reminded, and he nodded.

Booking a room on a high storey, Jellal let Erza unlock the door. It was a rather plain looking ensemble considering the extravagant and artistic architecture of the city. The bed was covered with white sheets, the curtains of the same colour – a heavy fabric – and the walls and floor neat, if old-looking.

"What's the plan?" Erza asked. She sounded excited, as if happily waiting for his next move; his next step into adventure. She was the cutest thing, he thought, having to smile despite himself. Just looking at her made the rising storm of scheming and manoeuvring in his head begin to quiet.

"We definitely need back those horses," Jellal began, "since they know the way to the hideout," he said. "But first," he wandered over to the window, "we have to be obvious," he drew the curtains aside. With a sweeping glance, he pretended to be interest in the street. She came to join him.

"Wanna draw some attention by making out?" She smirked. Jellal chocked for a second, then laughed hoarsely.

"I'd rather we keep our relationship to ourselves – I don't want them looking for the most gorgeous husband and wife in all of Ishgar," he returned her lowered lids with wiggling brows.

"Still, you want to make out?" She repeated. He laughed again. Below the window, he wound his arm around her waist. I enticed a shiver, making his grin spread anew. He opened his mouth to reply, when another voice interrupted.

"Bluefin Trevally, you still there?"

"Yeah, n' I see 'em," another, also male voice joined. Erza rose a brow. Giving her husband a look, she looked like she could not decide whether to give an exasperated sigh or laugh. But they had not been in contact – at least so it seemed rather evidently – with the caught criminals of the robbery. They had no idea how unintendedly they leaked their plans right into their targets' heads.

That, and Jellal was starting to assume the absence of the bank operation's leader to be playing an important role in the gang. They were missing their main tactician.

With an unsuspicious tug at her waist, Jellal gave Erza a signal. As if already having followed precisely that sign a thousand times before, Erza casually strolled away from the window. Jellal waited another moment, then drew the curtains closed.

"I saw someone at the window across the street," Erza said where they 'secretly' met in the bathroom.

"The other's down at the bakery," he added. They held their tongues when the strangers' conversation continued.

"Aaand they're gone,"

"Just watch the entr'nce," the other voice retorted in a bored tone. "Hey, a' there any Normals stationed around 'ere? Cause then I'll run down and let them kno'-"

"Nah, they're all at South Pole,"

"Dude," the boy – now munching on a bread roll – cut in, "I can't keep up with all those stupid code names," he complained, mouth full of bread. Erza looked as if she was ready to march over there and teach the criminal a lesson – either in manners or being more diligent. Jellal bit his lip as not to chuckle at her indignant expression.

"He sounds so young," she complained, "he shouldn't be involved in such a-"

"South Pole is the old geezer's den 'cause it's in the south," the first voice interrupted. Erza huffed to herself. Jellal's amusement only grew, and he planted an allaying kiss on the top of her head. It was strange to be listening to someone else's voice while looking into her eyes. Then again, it was strange altogether to be listening in on people they neither knew nor saw, standing there in the small bathroom with her arms sliding up and around his torso.

His smile softened. She really was too cute.

"And the North-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," the bread-eater waved off.

"Just keep an eye on anyone leaving the building with a mark on their face or fiery red hair,"

"I kno', right?" The boy now sounded unbelieving. "It's no' even ginger, it's so red," he almost exclaimed. Jellal vibrated shortly with held back laughter. He ran his fingers through her most beautiful scarlet tresses. Erza had relaxed by now, her head on his chest while they hugged in an unhurried leisure.

"And well stacked,"

"Totally," the other agreed. "There's one hot chic comin' down the street now," he went on.

"You shit, she's what? Thirty?"

"So? I thought if the cup size was right, you'd take one with a beard,"

"Fat chance,"

Jellal rolled his eyes. He felt Erza sigh into him, just as annoyed.

"Can't we turn this off somehow?" She asked aloud, yet sounding as if to herself. He gave an apologetic stroke down her back. "At least we know that they're the only ones stationed here," she concluded. "I'll take the one on the street, you take the one at the window?"

"I think I'd rather have them believe we're still here," Jellal mused. He followed her lead when she gently pushed him down to sit on the toilet lid. "We can leave in disguise, take back the horses from the police station," he enumerated, glad for the police station to be out of sight of the still gossiping men, "and have them lead us to the 'North Pole'," he explained.

Erza had meanwhile summoned what turned out to be a makeup bag. She dropped it in his lap, a flat round casket and tiny sponge in her hand.

"You don't want to take the two out?"

"No, I was thinking I'd have a Thought Projection open the curtains at some point when we're already gone,"

"Excellent," Erza nodded in agreement. She dabbed his cheek with what he found out to be powder. It would not conceal his mark entirely, he knew, but it would be a lot less striking. He closed his eyes, letting her work. "I think I still have a wig," she offered.

"Then you should use it – I think a hat or so will suffice for me,"

"I have those, too," she smiled proudly. That dimension of hers really was worth a lot. Back in his Crime Sorcière times, he would have had to resort to stealing.

"The only problem is," Jellal opened his eyes when she retreated and zipped up her bag. She let it disappear, blinking at him when he waited for her to face him again. He had to fight as not to let his eyes betray him. "These unproportional melons," he teasingly bounced her breasts on his hands. Erza gasped, cheeks tinting crimson while her lips broke out into an unbelieving yet playful grin.

"Hey!"

"I mean, how long has it been since you've seen your feet while standing up?" He went on. She slapped his arm repeatedly, laughing almost as much as him. "They're huge," he kept on twisting the knife, letting her shower him in well-deserved hits.

"First of all: rude," Erza panted, unable to stop laughing. "I happen to like my body," she crossed her arms defensively over her chest, but he saw the slight shaking of stifled laughter.

"Whoever said I didn't like your body…?" Jellal got up, slithering over and into her, his arm pulling her flush against himself.

"And second," Erza had to try hard not to melt into him. He blamed her lack of resist-ability on her hormones, satisfied either way. "It really has been years since I've seen my toes," she burst again, right into his face. Infecting him nonetheless.

The two men on their posts were still comparing women on the street in their heads, but Jellal found he had never in his life been this relaxed or this happy during a mission. If one could call it that. They were under observation, yes, but they were also madly in love, blinding out the seriousness with surprising ease.

"Back to the point, how are we going to hide me?" Erza caught herself, the supporting hand on his chest not leaving. "No, I'm not staying here and waiting for you," she interrupted his unspoken thoughts. He closed his mouth again.

"If you insist, then no fighting," Jellal bargained. "Think of the hormone mill,"

"I know, I know," Erza smiled warmly, leaning in where she enjoyed his abdomen to her rounded one. "I promise I'll be extra careful and get out as soon as I think it's too risky," she said. He raised a brow, waiting. "Or when you tell me to,"

"Atta girl," he patted her head. She pursed her lips, letting the issue go. "As for your disguise," Jellal released her from his embrace, sauntering back to the bed. "I couldn't help but notice the… specific dimensions of our second captive," he picked up a pillow.

"The one we brought to the police station?"

"The very same," he closed the distance between them. In a quick grasp of her shirt, followed by a swipe of the pillow to her skin, he grinned at his idea. "I'm playing the bald, and you the bearded one."

Again, it had almost been too simple.

Erza had left first, her clothes stuffed with more clothes to make not just her torso look the part. Jellal had exited the hotel a few minutes later. His hair was pulled up into one of her ponytails, disappearing under his long hood – the only thing alongside the layer of powder to cover his mark. Erza had pinned the rest of his hair to his head, her own snug beneath a short messy wig. It was not the same hair colour as the man she imitated, but she would wear a hood as soon as they departed, too.

They took the capes of the delinquents in the police station, then set out on horseback.

Talking quietly, they rode the horses back to the secret path. The animals knew the way, just as assumed, leading through the undergrowth for roughly half an hour until eventually arriving where they wondered how no one had found it yet.

It was huge.

Dark brick walls towered in their mighty defence. They were not yet black, but a dark green that swallowed any light and did not stand out in the midst of the densely growing conifers. There were few windows, and not a shadow to be detected in them. Jellal already speculated on hidden lookouts within the trees or perhaps on the sloping roof.

A figure spooked them. Jellal halted his horse, Erza following suit, always staying behind him in the figure's blind spot.

"No luck with the foreigners?" The hooded man asked in a croaking voice. He did not even get up, slumped beneath a tree where he hardly raised his head to study their faces. Smoke thinly streaked up from his cigarette, being the only thing they could see.

"'fraid not," Jellal gave back with the same bored irritation. He held his breath. If that had been the wrong code – or none at all where there was some kind of secret message expected – they were doomed. Well, not doomed – they were still Fairy Tail Wizards. Only the sneaking part about their sneaking operation would be ruined.

But the man only took his cigarette between two fingers and spat on the ground. Not giving him a second glance, Jellal moved his horse along. Erza stuck to him like glue on hers, and they again dropped their reigns for the horses to find the way. It did not look as if the main gates had been opened lately, overgrown by moss and ivy.

A back door – large double gates – stood opened. The stables. Boxes lined the walls, a set of smaller doors opposite the entrance. There was a boy playing with purple fire in his palm. He leant against a post where a horse was tied to. He did not put out the fire when the two dismounted, more than proud of his magic, even though he had to abandon the beginner's trick to properly see to the animals' needs.

"You missed the whole show," he enthusiastically retold while unfastening the saddles. Jellal stopped, hardly turning to listen. The boy did not seem to mind, too excited. "Someone insulted Haru and almost got his throat ripped out; it was awesome!" He cheered. Jellal's eyes widened beneath the shade of his disguise. "Did you find those nasty tourists?" So they really were on to them, Jellal thought to himself. No wonder with the commotion they had stirred.

And from the looks of it, the gang was either falling apart structure-wise without their leader, or the country of Caelum was less used to magic than originally assumed. But how, seeing as this organisation was huge and possessed more than a few wizards?

"Does it look like it?" Jellal dryly threw over his shoulder, trying to stay in character. The boy puffed angrily.

"Darn Fioren – you think you're so tough just because your magic's stronger!" The boy yelled, then ran into hiding. He only crawled back out once they had left, the doors slamming shut behind them.

No questions on their identities, no glance under the hoods, nothing. So they strut along the dimly lit corridor as if doing so on a daily basis. Jellal could feel Erza's smile in his back, though he suspected she was about to laugh again instead of celebrating their infiltration.

However quickly they had tears spring to her eyes, those hormones were granting her one heck of a splendid day.

His own thoughts were far from rainbows and kittens.

"I'm not an expert on Caelum names, but Haru sounds very Fioren to me," Erza muttered next to him. He nodded almost unnoticeably. "Work on your accent,"

"It's not that," Jellal returned under his breath. There were voices up ahead, and they followed them deliberately. "I think I'm starting to understand what this is all about…" he murmured. The corridor pooled into another, more and more to each side where hooded and non-hooded men appeared from. It was a relief that wearing the hood inside was not too unusual.

The assembling cluster chatted animatedly, showing the way into a grand hall. The walls were as bleakly brick-built as the outside of the hideout. Tables stood here and there, some poorly patched with nails sticking out while the majority of chairs consisted of barrels, cut in half.

Most of the men eating and drinking were almost or already done, talking or laughing dirtily. It was only just past sun high, but they all looked as if going to sleep any moment. The previous robbery had been planned for midnight, Jellal remembered, concluding the bandits to be nocturnal predators.

A scarred man sat inside what was obviously the dining hall, right at the door. He had a table in front of him, the coarse cloth atop speckled with blood. A queue had formed. Jellal peered past the few men in front of him.

They picked up the knife of the scarred man and, one after the other, cut into their skin. Then they pressed the bloody print to a sheet of paper. The custodian would take a lacrima in his hand and hover above the fresh imprint. Jellal frowned.

There was hardly any alarming magic presence in the room. In fact, he could not detect more than three or four mages in the entire room. None of them possessed intense amounts of Ethernano. One of them even felt familiar to him. The scarred man was a mage, too, though whether he had any idea of what he was doing was up for debate.

It was their turn, so Jellal grabbed the blade without hesitation and sliced a thin cut into his finger. Droplets of blood slowly formed along the line, and he stamped it to the sheet of paper. He watched, almost with amusement, how the lacrima 'scanned' his blood.

It was nothing but a chunk of unaltered lacrima crystal. Like a piece of marble, unrefined and right from the mine, not harnessed for anything like light, magic or the transfer of sonic waves. Sure, it glowed in the dark but that was about it. There was no way it could scan and detect intruders by smearing over their blood. Jellal was starting to get the feeling that the scarred man knew exactly how much of a crook he was.

Erza's turn arrived. Jellal suddenly felt nervous sweat breaking out on his nape. He had not yet seen a single woman involved with the delinquents – and she would not be the first, he decided. She might have padded her curves, but her hands were still their slim, graceful and definitely feminine splendour. So Jellal flashed out his other hand, tore the knife across the tip of his finger and smudged it to the list. Erza let her hand remain in the air, clad into her long sleeve, pretending it had been her hand.

The scarred man – by far too bored to be paying attention – repeated his useless procedure. Grunting for them to pass, they collected a tray each and sat down in the corner. Erza flashed her husband a much saying glance from beneath her hood. A different kind of sweat leaked out his pores.

Remember the paper cut? the glance said. That's right, she wordlessly told him, I brought that costume, too.

She really was not too serious that day.

Feeling eyes on them, the two stabbed their unappetising goo in silence. Their overwhelming magic power must have been striking the wizards around, narrowed eyes drilling into them. It was hard to glance at them without lifting his hood. Jellal dared anyway, peering grimly at a table near the opposite wall. And he had been right. A swirled line, a long beak and an arrow. Crane Strike. A former dark guild.

Only then did it hit him. That armada of merchant ships – they were all disbanded, disappeared dark guilds from Fiore. That also supported his theory of the powerful mages suddenly appearing in Caelum, their Council unprepared, their police untrained. His actions – those of Crime Sorcière – had indirectly led to a rise in criminal activity in a different country!

Now how was he supposed to learn how to accept himself?

Okay, steady breaths, focus on the matter at hand, Jellal tried to tell himself.

A yell tore him into the present. Luckily, it steered everyone's attention away from the couple, too.

The scarred man was standing on his feet now, scouting at a scrawny man in front of him. Jellal thought for a second that there had been a refusal of procedure, but there was a trace of blood on the man's finger.

More and more started to raise their voices. There was nothing wrong with the victim, Jellal assumed. The glowing of the lacrima was merely a trick, played by the warden by using his magic. Light-based, weak magic. The accused was being beaten by the next in line, then another. The scarred man hollered over the commotion, and they all stopped. The lacrima was not glowing anymore.

Jellal frowned. He watched as the victim crept into a different corner, eating his obviously smaller portion in complete silence. There was no magic aura surrounding him. Jellal suspected deterrent; the creation of a common enemy or perhaps simply intimidation and suppression of the non-wizards.

In any case, these people solved their problems – whether real or not – with their fists. Or worse. A good reason to get Erza out of there as soon as possible.

Glancing at her from the side, Jellal was not prepared for what he saw. She was grinning. There was a feisty spark in her eyes, not yet bloodlust but the closest thing to it that was still harmless enough to circumvent grave injuries. She was enjoying herself.

Following her gaze, Jellal caught sight of the newest turmoil.

People were throwing tantrums, punching and shoving each other, barking swears he would never even let the voice in his head utter. He saw it then. The bulge in the back of someone's cape. It hovered, moved, floated close to the ground and towards the next table. A fork. A by her telekinesis manipulated fork.

Arriving at a random target, it stabbed the man's boot.

Shooting up in his seat, he threw over the entire table on accident. The others around the table joined the riot, making him responsible. The procedure repeated, until nearly the entire hall was a battlefield.

Jellal spooked when Erza not only threw over their own table along with their plates and imposition of a meal, but downright flung it into the closest group of delinquents. Her eyes shone, twinkling up at him with rapture. She really was not taking this too seriously… And she was a Fairy Tail Wizard through and through.

He bit his lip as not to laugh, at the same time cringing when she had knocked the small cluster out cold with the table.

At least now they did not have to pretend to eat what might have been poisoned. At least plainly inedible.

Shots suddenly tore through the air. The entirety of the hall winced. A new face had appeared. Angular, clean-shaven, young. Hair that reached his shoulders, worn in a side braid and shimmering in the same obscure green as the building's outside walls. Iron Fist's former guild master, Jellal recognised. Another dark guild of Fiore.

Lowering his gun – not a magical weapon, Jellal remarked – the newcomer stood with his hands behind his back. Cold eyes scanned the room for any further disturbances. Detecting none. An earie silence had fallen.

He turned on the heel. Jellal and Erza quickly followed suit when the rest of the gang filed out. They pushed and scrambled. Jellal had to grab his hood to keep his face covered where they all hustled out. Too late did he notice that Erza was not next to him anymore.

"You there, fat one," he froze when Iron Fist's former guild master raised his sneery voice. "I don't remember to have seen you…" he drawled patronisingly. Jellal felt his pulse shoot up. Magic gathered at his hands, almost pouring out his fingers where he stared over the heads to catch a glimpse of his cornered wife. Men pushed on all sides, almost taking him with them as they hurried. "… at the lookout this week," the tight voice concluded. Jellal's shoulders fell.

He felt piercing eyes on him. His near burst must have been feelable by the dark mage. So he ducked into the crowd, leaving with them, ears perked desperately where he heard the final instruction.

"Off you go, and I don't want to hear any complaints about the weather this time," Iron Fist's former master snapped.

A queasy lurching unsettled Jellal's stomach. But he trusted her. He would have to, he realised, stuck in the cluster of men he knew were ready to kill him on sight once they realised his true identity.