Didn't make the deadline thanks to studying - can't promise to keep the next but I will try my very best! :)

I hope you'll enjoy.

It had not taken them long to find the trail of magic. Cleverly constructed to hide the prisoners from view, yet drawn up by amateurs – at least no one with enough expertise to fool either Jellal or Erza. Instead of shattering the invisibility shield, Erza kept hold of her protégé, and Jellal worked his own runes around the branches and rocks under the canopy of the dense forest.

The shield burst into scattering writings, floating, twirling, until fading into nothingness. There was no guard with the two women – the other, Jellal recognised, was the boy's nanny, apparently having protested against the plans as well. Those having kept watch over the forest entrance had been no match for the couple anyway.

"Alistair!" The older woman exclaimed once the shining magic revealed her saviours.

"Mama!" The boy all but screeched. Unable to let him go in time, Erza gasped when he practically jumped out of her arms. He scraped his knee on the ground, hit his face with an overhanding twig, but he never stopped, dashing into his mother's arms. "Mama!" He cried, cheeks already drowning in tears. Her own were streaked with tears of relief, and she took her time to hold him, to squish him into her and to assess for herself that he was unharmed, whispering urgently where he would not stop wailing.

Jellal smiled to himself as he watched the scene unfold. Noting from the corner of his eye how Erza wiped at a tear of her own, his smile broadened. Looping his arm around her, he tugged her side to his. She deflated with a sigh of relief, leaning into him as a response.

They waited for a long time, eventually escorting all three – plus the knocked-out culprits – back to the Council.

"We've hardly had such a well-deserved end of a workday," Jura smiled as he closed the door behind Jellal.

"And a satisfying one," Jellal agreed. He sat down after waiting for his superior to have done so. Without his glasses, it was nearly impossible to read more than the headings of the documents spread out on the desk.

"Oh, this," Jura noticed the glance, interpreting as Jellal spotting something in particular – oblivious to the latter's inability to decipher what he was supposedly scanning, something Jellal was grateful for. Ambrose and Erza could very well stay the sole people knowing about his 'specs'. "I meant to tell you sooner, but, well, the case," Jura shrugged helplessly and Jellal hummed his understanding. Not about the documents though.

He watched Jura pour them tea, swallowing his triumph about how he did not even feel the need for it anymore to soothe a scratchy throat.

"I know I previously said it was a risk to send out so many troops and that it would cost a fortune, but your instincts were spot on as usual – after the arrests at the harbours, the land frontiers were crawling with illegal trade and dark mages. We must have already reached far beyond our dungeon's capacity," he laughed.

"It's good to hear the trouble was worth it,"

"More than that – we've earned ourselves a reputation; both us as the Magic Council as well as Fiore's security standards," Jura declared with content. His smile warmed, as well as the shine in his eyes. "You've done us more than just a favour, not only with this, but with Caelum, the case – all cases, to be frank. I… I don't know what to promote you to," he grinned somewhat sheepishly.

An awkward silence stretched for a couple of heartbeats. Jellal, finding the silence almost embarrassing – the praises most definitely – kept from clearing his throat.

"Then don't?" He finally said, even more awkwardly than his superior. Brows creasing, a lopsided frown formed on his lips. Jura erupted with a hearty laughter. Close to fidgeting in his seat, Jellal endured. His eyes flashed to his tea, contemplating the obvious replacement action of taking a sip, ultimately deciding against it.

He liked his job; he had for a while now, and he did not see any use in being promoted to a higher post when his current work was serving them so well. Money for the house and baby would of course always be welcome, though without Erza there, he doubted he would bring himself to it.

Calming to a good-humoured chuckle, Jura put his palm flat on the desk.

"I was uncertain back then when we wrote you the invite – I thought the others were going to have my head when you actually came and started demanding conditions straight to our faces," he chuckled again, and Jellal pressed his lips together as not to shrink from embarrassment. He had almost forgotten his strawberry-rampage. "But I believed it to be the right decision and gods almighty was I correct," Jura grinned broadly.

Jellal relaxed slightly, forcing his shoulders to lose their tension.

"I'm more than glad to have you on the team," Jura smiled kindly, "and I know the others think so, too. Now go enjoy your home office – I know you two want to return to Magnolia, and I can tell you without a doubt that you can do so with good conscience," he finalised. When rising from his seat, Jellal copied him.

They finished their tea, chatting comfortably as they made their way back down the hall. Erza waited in Jellal's office, finishing her own tea with Ambrose. The rest of the Council was overseeing the preparation of the upcoming trial, and later reported Alistair and his mother to be moving to a new home alongside their nanny.

And yes, Jura was right – neither Jellal nor Erza could wait to return to Magnolia. To return home.

Jellal inhaled the scent of what he had come to associate with his colleague's office – the favourite, foreign tea.

"I hope she won't be too heartbroken now that he's back with his mother," Ambrose said, putting the teapot down. The sun was setting, and the evening finally brought a slight chill to an overall pleasantly warm day of spring.

"I don't think she will," Jellal reassured, "though I predict she might start mothering someone else in Magnolia," he smiled to himself. He, too, was rather keen on seeing the young Dragon Slayer again. Her and Meredy in particular. He was convinced he would never have been this relaxed with her being 'on her own' if it had not been for learning how to let loose with Erza by his side – that, and staying in contact via the lacrima was vital to his eased demeanour.

"It won't be long until someone else will be granted that honour," Ambrose smiled, and Jellal returned it. Time really was flying when spending the days with his beloved. How quickly would it progress once there was another one to devote his hours to?

With a sigh, Jellal enjoyed the first sip of tea. They had worked all day to wrap up the case, but with the weekend on their doorstep, it was the perfect time to pack up what he needed and go home. Erza was already preparing back in the mansion, having booked them the train for the following day. Right now, so Jellal guessed, she was probably 'dealing with' whatever leftovers they still had, unburdening their heavy luggage – which would be stored in her dimension anyway – by snacking her way through the fridge. And cookie cupboard.

Not leaning back in his seat, Jellal still had something on his mind. It would not leave him, he knew, and he had the feeling it would not only do himself good to address the topic.

"If I may ask," he began, glancing down when trying to find the right words. Ambrose's eyes narrowed gently in understanding.

"It was an accident – her carriage rammed a tree and fell over when the horse spooked," he explained without having to be asked. Jellal looked up, meeting unreadable light blue eyes. They reminded him of himself – the way he talked about having pushed Erza away. In the past, resolved, yet never fully healed. "My son's story is a tad more dramatic," Ambrose took a breath almost unnotably. "He was intoxicated – both he and the other young man were – and they had a fight over something or other. He succumbed to his wounds later at the hospital," he retold.

Jellal listened quietly, a lump forming in his throat. It hurt almost physically to see the glazed over eyes in front of him where they stared at nothing of interest.

"What about the other one?" Jellal asked, finding his voice with difficulty.

"He recovered, though I think his jaw mended in an odd angle. He lives near the Ryusika Gorge these days, not far from Oshibana," Ambrose explained calmly. Jellal swallowed. In other, more accusing terms, there was the 'murderer' of his son, living peacefully a day's journey away. Ambrose showed none of the anger boiling within Jellal. There was grief, yes, but there was no grudge.

"You mentioned once that your wife was of a different status, and that you came here from Seven," he digressed instead of harping on about it.

"Did I?" Ambrose raised a brow. Jellal felt as caught as he felt relieved to see the sparkle of amusement.

"Well, Erza mentioned that you did," he admitted. Ambrose chuckled once, then took a sip of his tea. Jellal mirrored him, his shoulders sinking as he relaxed more and more.

"What else did she tell you?" Ambrose's mood had shifted, something Jellal was grateful for. He accepted the unspoken challenge.

"Things that made me realise we don't take enough breaks," Jellal countered. "Like you coming from Seven and not Fiore,"

"You found me out," Ambrose shrugged, chuckling. "Now you will want me to teach you, am I right?" He asked, well aware of Jellal's thirst for knowledge. He raised his brows in mild surprise when Jellal shook his head.

"A couple of details would suffice," he nonchalantly jested as if they were in an interrogation. "I know you have a sister and four brothers," he clicked his tongue as if naming incriminating evidence.

"Had – my sister and I are the only ones left," Ambrose corrected. "Though you needn't look so surprised; I'm old," he laughed. Jellal allowed his muscles to lose their tension. "My father was a politician – a fearsome man. We all feared his wrath and corporal punishment, save for my fortunate little sister.

"He was a good man, if a fierce one, often fighting for a noble cause yet through violence. He could hold speeches that moved even those to tears who didn't understand a word of what he was saying – even foreigners who quite literally had not the foggiest idea of what was going on," he laughed again.

Jellal had to smile, finally having gotten him to open up.

"What about your mother?"

"My mother?" Ambrose frowned, then pondered. "My mother was a wife," he then said. "Where I come from, you're born as a daughter and brought up to be a wife – that is your place and your meaning in life. She gave my father six surviving children, so she did well," he chuckled, averting his gaze momentarily. "Sounds barbaric, doesn't it?"

"Foreign," Jellal agreed.

"It was one of the many things that fascinated me about my wife – she was someone's daughter, and would go on to be my wife, but first and foremost, she was a woman. She was her," he continued, unasked. Jellal kept smiling to himself. "She was not only free of that status quo, but of that state of mind. I of course never oppressed her into my learnt thinking pattern – I couldn't have anyway – but she made it her life purpose to beat it back out of me, and in all honesty, it did not take as long as she thought.

"She was such a different kind of fierce than my father – a gentle, passionate fierce, full of heart and wonder," he said, reminding Jellal much of Erza. "She never stopped trying; never stopped dragging me to social events and classes and school – I don't think I would've ever finished higher education if it was not for her encouragement, lessons and threats – and lunches. She made the best lunches," he smiled fondly, a distant shimmer in his eyes. "Now that I think about it, I might have chosen law simply because it took longest, and because she would have to motivate me longest," his smile widened slightly.

There were small, yet serene tears standing in his eyes. His voice never faltered. The words flowed out of him as if it was the first time in a hundred years that he got to tell them, having waited a century to be asked; to relive his own memories.

"She had won me over within less than a week, but I pretended she hadn't so she wouldn't stop berating me," he flashed Jellal a glance for the first time in minutes, as if to tell him 'yes, I know you're still here, and yes, I know what you did'. Whether he realised now or had from the beginning, he did not reveal. "She yelled at her father when he rejected me – something I would have never dared in all my life; not even now would I have the bravery to stand up to him were he still here," he tightened his lips as if displeased with himself after all this time. "But she did.

"She was everything I never was – I will never understand what she saw in me," his smile returned, fond and sad and happy all the same.

A short silence passed, a comfortable one. When Ambrose returned from what must have been the image of his wife before in inner eye, he shook his head ever so slightly, blinking himself into the present. He set down his cup, Jellal's joining it on the tray.

More than one bone popped when Ambrose rose to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said when Jellal stood, cutting off any imminent protests, "and thank you. For listening to an old man's tale," he smiled genuinely.

"It was my pleasure," Jellal returned. "And for what it's worth – in a strictly platonic, colleague to colleague kind of way," he grinned as he collected his files off the desk, "I'm rather sure I see a lot of those things she saw in you."

"That's because you know the present me, not the bloke from a good fifty years ago," Ambrose laughed.

"Well, I think I'm in a similar state of mind as that bloke, and you seem to tolerate me just fine regardless," Jellal retorted, a single brow rising with the challenge. It was rare for him to actually win one. From the spark in Ambrose's eyes, he read he was right.

"Now get out of here," he made Jellal laugh, even when being swatted with documents. "It will be quiet in here when you're gone, and I need to get used to the lack of chaos again," Ambrose teased, somewhat shooing Jellal out.

"I'll call to make sure you're not completely deprived of it,"

"You wouldn't dare," the two bickered while grinning up to their ears.

"Alright, I'm going," Jellal chuckled. He turned in the doorway, readjusting his suit's jacket, sliding in two of the buttons. "Make sure to leave some work for me though," he admonished.

"Need an escape from the mood swings?"

"Let's hope not," Jellal scratched the back of his head. Turning on the heel, he stopped short. "Oh, and greet them for me," he smirked. "You are going there this weekend, aren't you?"

"Go home, Jellal," Ambrose tutted, closing the door to his office. A broad smile – a caught smile on his lips.

One day, Jellal told himself, he would visit them on the graveyard as well to pay his respects.