Chapter Twenty Seven
There was only light. Blinding, searing, incandescent light.
Then a tingling of the limbs. A slow sensation of gravity.
And then finally, a face.
A frowning, surprised, irritated face. "What are you doing here?"
Loke grinned and adjusted the lapels of his suit. "Little sister has an errand to run, so she asked me to fill in."
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "But Virgo and I were supposed to try on costumes for the competition today!"
"I'd be happy to help with that," Loke winked. "I'm told I have a talent for undressing."
"Loke," Lucy said warningly. Her eyes widened suddenly as an idea came to her. "Stay right here, there's something I want to see," she called over her shoulder as she hurried from the room.
Loke shrugged, moved her purse off a stool and sat down to observe where exactly 'here' was.
The room was long and narrow, with polished hardwood flooring. Metal bars ran along mirrored walls, placed precisely at waist height. It was a room built for dancing, and that was exactly what its other two occupants were doing.
He used the word 'dancing,' but what Erza was doing was more accurately described as 'spasming.' Gray was sitting atop Erza's shoulders, staring into the mirror with his face frozen in a rictus as she jerked and stomped in what was definitely a rhythm, but not one that was remotely related to the music pouring out of the lacrima speaker nearby.
Loke leaned forward as he watched as Erza set Gray down and they began to discuss their choreography. Well, well, well. What was this?
Erza was pointing at something in a book, stabbing at the page emphatically. Gray peered over her shoulder, his arm coming around her to turn the page and indicate something else. She stiffened, then turned her head towards Gray. Loke almost burst out laughing as Gray recoiled. A moment later, Erza handed the book to him, and their fingers brushed. Gray leapt away like a startled salmon, his arms windmilling to keep his balance.
Loke smirked, produced a tub of popcorn out of nowhere, and settled in to watch. To imagine he had thought he would be bored when Lucy had left him alone.
Erza was tired.
Her nocturnal visitor had not made an appearance since her second night at the mansion, but she still lay awake most nights listening for the sound of footsteps. Or at least that was what she told herself. Admitting that she was losing sleep over Gray would mean asking herself why, and that was not something she was prepared to do.
He looked up at her as he fiddled with the lacrima player and made a peculiar face; halfway between a smile and a wince and more than all the way to deranged. The familiar pain pulsed in the centre of her forehead, telling her that her brow had furrowed yet again. If she kept this up, then Asca would have no reason to stop calling her ba-san. Why was she so perturbed anyway? Gray was being pleasant. They were making progress with the dressage. It was all going well.
Until he ran away again, at least. Or would he yell at her this time? She shook her head, scolding herself for the uncharitable thought. He was trying his best. She had to try too. Maybe if they both acted with a little more kindness, then they could put whatever this was behind them and go back to normal. The way it had been just days ago. Before they had been partnered up for the Task.
"Here," he said, coming to stand in front of her, "this should help."
Erza realised belatedly that the gentle piano music had been replaced with the twang of electric guitars. "What is this for?"
His hands came to rest on the curve of her hips. "You need to loosen up. Your hips are too stiff," he said, then grimaced and withdrew his hands.
"Is it that bad?" she asked, noting his frown.
"No," he hastened to reassure her.
She chose not to reply. It was nice of him to spare her feelings. Dancing had always been something that came easily to her, but perhaps her efforts with his choreography were inadequate. "Very well," she replied, clamping her hands on his hips in return. "Show me."
"Ack!" Gray yelped, trying and failing to jump away from her armoured grip. "What are you doing?"
"I do not understand what you mean, so show me." Her forehead twinged again. "Please," she added.
They were standing far too close to each other. The music swelled, the guitars rising in crescendo, competing with each other as they stormed towards climax. Gray made a choked noise and touched the bare skin of her upper arms, in between her pauldrons and couters. "Erza," he rasped.
Something in his voice made her look up. Their eyes met and her breath caught in her throat as she saw something intangible flash in those inky depths. Had his eyes always been so dark? So intense? Warmth crept up her neck as she became aware of their closeness; the position of her hands; the rapid heartbeat thundering in her chest. "I-I-," she offered half-heartedly.
Gray's hands slid down her arms and came to rest atop hers. "Just watch me," he said, his voice much steadier as he pulled her hands away from him.
Erza blinked and stepped away, feeling improbably rejected. "Of course," she replied stiffly, assuming the starting position. "Please begin."
He gazed at her curiously for a moment. Erza could not, would not, allow herself to read into it. Finally, Gray nodded, gathered himself, and began to dance.
She pursed her lips as she studied his movements. Enough with this foolishness. They had a Task to do.
Loke smoothed his hair back, the tension in the room was making it stand on end. He had felt the undercurrent the moment he had been summoned, his feline senses too finely tuned to miss it, but the sudden spike in emotion had been unexpected. He adjusted his glasses and turned back to the dancing pair, trying to regain some of the levity he had been feeling before their latest exchange.
1, 2, 3, 4 —Gray held up fingers to count the beat and then began to hop in place. Loke bit his fist to keep from laughing. Consider his levity regained. What in the Celestial Spirit World was Gray doing? Hop, skip, hop, hop—Loke ducked to hide as Gray pirouetted—skip, jump, then the other leg, hop, skip. A noise that was a mix of a gurgle and a gasp escaped Loke as Gray stood on his tiptoes and performed a pas de chat, jumping sideways several times. Then another pirouette and he was back to hopping again. Where was a lacrima recorder when you needed one? Cana would never believe Loke when he told her.
The jangling of armour drowned out the music as Erza began to imitate Gray. She did her best, which in this case, was not good at all. Stomp, kick, stomp, stomp. Well, at least she danc-, er, did whatever it was she was doing, with great gusto.
Gray began to slowly mark out a figure 8 across the room, with Erza stomping and kicking in his wake. Hop, stomp, skip, kick, twirl, wobble, hop, stomp, skid to a stop, stom- crash!
Loke grinned down at the ice mage sprawled at his feet. "Long time no see, Gray."
Gray scowled as he got to his feet.
"Loke!" Erza said, surprised. She adjusted a pauldron that had been knocked askew by her collision with Gray and held out a hand to clasp his. "We have not seen you in a while. You are looking well."
"Being an immortal Celestial Spirit has its perks," he quipped before blenching as Erza's iron grip seized his. "You two, too. That dance was mesmerising."
Gray flushed crimson and looked away.
"Is it not?" Erza replied, enthusiastically. "I am an excellent dancer, of course, but the choreography was all Gray's doing."
"Erza, could you give me a moment with Loke?" Gray said abruptly.
Her gaze flicked between the two men, her brow creasing with concern. "I shall go rewind the crystal in the lacrima player."
"My, my, Gray," said Loke, as soon as Erza was out of earshot. "What's going on here?"
Gray shut his eyes and braced himself.
"You and Erza, eh?"
"It's not what you think."
"No? Then what's with that cute little blush you have going on."
"I'm not in the mood for this, Loke." Gray snapped, slapping Loke's needling finger away.
"Duh." He leered at Gray. "With the way you've been acting around Erza, I think there's only one thing you're in the mood for."
An angry red stressmark appeared near Gray's forehead. "Quit it."
Loke pressed his palms to his cheeks. "You looked so adorable, perched upon her shoulders like that."
Gray butted his forehead against Loke's. "I told you to quit it," he growled.
Wow. He really was serious. Loke was torn. He could see the strain on Gray's face—the tightness of his jaw, the dark circles caused by sleepless nights, the hounded expression in his eyes. It really was too bad that the line he had been working on since he had arrived was too good to waste.
"I know you've wanted Erza's head between your thighs since you were a teenager, but I didn't think you meant it this way."
"Bastard!"
Loke touched the reddening skin on his cheek as he sailed across the room. Was the beauty of his words worth this pain? He would have to ask Capricorn; he did not know many other poets.
"What is going on here?" Erza thundered.
Gray rubbed the knuckles of his hand and said petulantly, "He started it."
"It's true. It's my fault." Loke raised his hand sheepishly but was thoroughly ignored.
"Nevertheless, Loke is your friend." Erza frowned at Gray. "I know you like to fight with Natsu, but I have never before seen you hit Loke."
"I really did deserve it," Loke said to no one, because no one was listening to him.
"Things change, Erza," Gray replied tersely.
"Is it the lighting? Suddenly I feel more transparent."
"What does that mean, Gray?"
"Fire in the second row! This whole place is a powder keg!"
"He was being an ass, alright?"
"Regardless. Apologise to him right now."
"Cellophane, cellophane. Should've been my name. Mr. Cellophane."
"You don't know what he said, Erza."
"What did he say, Gray?"
"Never! Even! Knoooooooow!"
"SHUT UP!" They turned to glare at him in unison. Loke froze in place, his leg raised in a high kick.
"Lokeeee, Lucy is looking for you," Happy sing-songed as he floated into the room. He looked from Gray and Erza to Loke in confusion. "The atmosphere in here is weird."
Loke looked up at his blue-haired saviour. Gray's anger was one thing, but Erza's glare felt like it would peel the skin from his bones. "What's that? Lucy needs me for a date?"
"No one said 'date,'" Happy sweatdropped.
"I'm coming right away!" He grabbed his fellow feline around the waist and hightailed it out of there like the scared kitten he was.
Gray huffed at Loke's escape, and then walked back to restart the lacrima player. He could feel Erza's watchful eye on him as the music began again.
The trouble was that Loke was right. He wasn't feeling like himself around Erza and he seemed helpless to act any differently. It had been a shitty, creepy thing to say, so he did not regret punching Loke, but he did regret being so transparent. There was a time when he had been harder to read.
He was trying to be careful, trying to keep his distance, trying not to send her any more confusing, mixed, and downright misleading signals. First, he'd been unable to stop yelling at her, then he'd run away from her, and now his stupid brain and body were conspiring against him so thoroughly and thwarting his attempts to not touch her. He kept standing too close to her, leaning into her, a moon being impotently pulled into her orbit. He had placed his hands on her hips, for crying out loud! It was as though they had a mind of their own.
He wondered, idly, if Natsu had faced the same problem with Lucy. Probably not. Otherwise he would have run around screaming that his hands were possessed by spirits. He signed inwardly. That was not it. Natsu had a calmness about him when it came things. A surety about what he wanted. A surety that he could have it. He was not like Gray, constantly second-guessing himself and his own worthiness. Was Natsu more evolved than him? What a depressing thought.
He caught Erza looking at him askance again and he struggled to contort his face into a neutral expression. He must have done a bang-up job of it, because her eyebrows instantly drew together again.
"I want to be the steed for some time," he said, tiredly. The mental image Loke's words had inspired was now seared into his brain. He felt irritated and itchy and not comfortable at all. This forced proximity with Erza was the worst possible thing that could have happened after their night together in the mountains. Loke's appearance in the peanut gallery had only served to remind him how high the stakes had suddenly become and how inept Gray was at handling them. Excluding Cana, Erza was his oldest friend, and he was one misstep, one frayed temper, from losing her.
"Gray," Erza began, and he wondered if she was going to insist on an answer to why he had punched Loke. Her eye narrowed, the unspoken admonishment clear. Then she nodded and climbed onto his shoulders.
He grunted with effort as he rose to his feet. At least Erza's weight was better distributed when she sat on his shoulders instead of on his back. He waited for the right gap in the music and then began, hopping and skipping his way through the routine. So much for his vow to never dance in public. He was not sure if this was more or less humiliating than being carried around by Erza. Maybe Loke would make an inopportune appearance to solve that riddle.
"You are much better at this than I am," Erza said approvingly, watching their progress in the mirror.
Gray mumbled an acknowledgement but kept his focus on the dressage. A moment of distraction was all it would take for them to fall.
As it happened, it was not Gray who became distracted, but Erza. For a moment she allowed herself to slip back into her musings and her hands tightened in Gray's hair. The silken spikes slipped between the gaps in her knuckle plates, tangling themselves in the hinges.
"Ouch," he said, "Erza, watch it!"
"My apologies," she replied, requipping off her gauntlets.
His hair freed, Gray raised a hand reflexively to his smarting scalp-
-and lost sight of the spot he was using to orient himself.
He wobbled dangerously, hopping from one foot to the other, and somehow managed to regain his balance. A relieved sigh escaped his lips. That had been way too close.
He smirked, turned to continue, slipped on some unpopped popcorn kernels that only one person could have dropped, and skidded into the far wall with an almighty crash.
"Gray." Erza failed to hide the annoyance that was writ large on her face. "Is everything alright?"
Her tone rankled. It was not his fault that Loke had scattered rubbish on the floor. "Just peachy."
Erza huffed. "If that was the case then we wouldn't be on the floor."
"Yeah, well, maybe we wouldn't be on the floor if your armour was lighter."
Erza flinched.
Gray's jaw worked. A part of him had been hoping that she had just forgotten that she had had it on. Even as the sharp edges of steel had dug into him during their show jumping training, leaving red welts on his bare stomach, he had refused to acknowledge their meaning.
Because if it was not an oversight, then what did it mean for them?
"The question is, Erza," he said softly, too tired to swallow the question down, "why you're wearing your armour at all." He gestured toward the empty room. "It's just you and me here. I thought that we trusted each other."
She looked away.
Dread squeezed his lungs. "Was I wrong?" When she did not reply, he repeated the question, hating the note of desperation that coloured his words. "Answer me, Erza. Why are you still wearing your armour?"
Her lips moved, the barest whisper of breath. "I do not feel safe."
The music came to an end and the lacrima player clicked off, the tape inside spooling to a stop. The unspoken 'with you' roared in the silent aftermath.
Gray staggered back, wounded. "You don't mean that." She could not mean that. Fear, raw and stinging, gnawed at his insides.
Teardrops silvered the edges of Erza's lashes, but she refused to meet his eyes.
All this time he had been worried about being found wanting. Of messing up. He had not noticed that he already had.
His fist clenched. "Fine," he whispered hoarsely. "If that's the way you feel."
He strode away before his trembling knees gave out.
The room was quiet when Lucy let herself in. She would have almost believed it was empty, if not for the knowledge borne of years of friendship.
"Erza, it's me," she called before a flying sword could appear to impale her.
She was worried about her friend. The conversation they were going to have was days overdue because she had been caught up in her own training woes. But not anymore. Tonight, she would get to the bottom of the situation.
That evening, Gray had not come down to dinner and Erza had sat there, across from his empty place setting, the very picture of misery. Whatever had transpired between them must have been momentous.
The tension between them had dragged on for days. Lucy knew Erza. Her tempers were quick to flare and quicker to fade. It was unlike her to let a quarrel go on for so long. It was even more unlike Gray to not acquiesce to Erza's every whim. Something was not right between the two of them, and Lucy had only a vague suspicion of what it was.
Erza looked up from the bathtub as Lucy entered the ensuite bathroom. "Was the door unlocked?"
Lucy placed a pouch of toiletries on the sink and began to undress. "Happy picked the lock."
Erza gave her a blank look that said that that did not, in fact, clarify anything.
"He's trying to learn new skills to help the team," Lucy sweatdropped, "because his attack power is so low."
"I see. Why did he not say so? We shall begin a training regimen in the morning."
"No!" Lucy blurted, then hastily backtracked. "That is, er, you have enough on your plate already. The Guardian Horse will take care of it."
Erza nodded, accepting her words. Water splashed onto the floor noisily as Erza rose from the bath and made her way over to Lucy. "Shall I wash your back for you?"
"Yes, please," Lucy replied, passing her a washcloth and the pomegranate body wash that she used.
Erza flicked open the cap and took a sniff. "An exquisite parfum -, I mean, scent."
Lucy smothered a laugh and sat down on a bathing stool to allow Erza to begin her ministrations. The tiles under her feet were icy despite the steamy air in the bathroom; she scrunched her toes to ease the unpleasant feeling. Hopefully, winter would be over soon. They could all use some warmth.
A bright silver trail appeared on the tap as Lucy dragged her finger through the foggy white condensate on its surface. Ever since she was a child, she had bathed with the aroma of pomegranate around her. First, from the petals of the flowers that Spetto-san would add to her bathwater, and then later, when she left home and could no longer afford the flower or fruit, in the form of soaps and shampoos. It never failed to relax her.
Except now.
Something was not right. Lucy was having a hard time putting her finger on it. Maybe she was just being a worrywart. She tried to relax into the massage, into the feeling of Erza's hands on her back and stopped short.
That was it. Erza's hands were on her back. Not on her breasts as they groped her, or on her ankle as she strummed an imaginary guitar on her thigh. They were actually on her back.
Where were the impassioned speeches on the joys of skinship? The panegyrics to youthful mischief? Who exactly was this person seated behind her?!
"Erza," Lucy began nervously.
"Hmmm?"
How was she to bring this up? She and Erza were close, but they did not have that kind of relationship. There were no confidences exchanged or long nights spent gossiping between them. What could she say to make Erza share her troubles?
"Do you want me to wash your back?"
Erza patted her on the shoulder and returned to the bathtub. "No, I am fine."
Lucy bit her lip and turned to follow her in. "Um, Erza," she tried again.
"Lucy, is there something on your mind?"
She jerked to a stop. "What makes you think that?" she laughed nervously.
"You are trying to get into the bath without first rinsing off your back."
"Eek!" Lucy flailed, quickly moving to stand under the shower. One did not take bath etiquette lightly around Erza.
"The water is cooler than you would like," Erza said, drawing up her feet to make room for Lucy. The Guardian's house was old. It did not have modern amenities like lacrima heaters.
The zipper on Lucy's bath bag susurrated as she slid it open. "Don't worry, I have just the trick."
"What's that?" asked Erza, eyeing the brilliant orange globe in Lucy's hand.
"This is a bath bomb."
"What! Why would you handle something so dangerous, so carelessly?"
"It's not that kind of bomb, Erza," Lucy sweatdropped, plopping it in. "It's just something you add to the bath that makes your skin softer. This one has a special feature. It heats the water too!"
The waters began to bubble and hiss as the bath bomb began to dissolve. "Amazing," said Erza, wide-eyed as warmth began to suffuse the tub.
"Isn't it?" Lucy agreed, taking a seat opposite Erza. She wriggled her toes, enjoying the heat after the coldness of the bathroom floor. "This is feels so good! There's nothing like a warm bath."
The two of them luxuriated in silence for a few minutes. Lucy watched Erza out of the corner of her eye, still wondering how to bring up the reason for her visit.
"Lucy."
"Y-yes!" she jumped.
"How is your training going?"
Lucy paused. Maybe if she opened up about something, it would invite a confidence?
"It isn't going well. The Guardian and I have been working on a new technique, but I'm not able to do it." Lucy scratched the back of her head and smiled sheepishly. "I guess it might be beyond my skill level."
Erza glared at her sternly. "Do not put yourself down."
"I guess," Lucy replied wryly. She sighed, sinking lower into the water. "Natsu needs me. I have to step up and protect him. I have to keep him safe. But how can I, when I'm still so weak?"
Erza leaned forward and took Lucy's hand. "Weak or strong, it matters not. You will protect Natsu because you are you. The power of your feelings is a shining light that will carry you forward even on the darkest of paths. I believe in you Lucy, so believe in yourself."
Lucy's face crumpled. Who was supposed to be comforting whom here? "Yeah," she replied, wiping a tear away with the back of her hand. "Besides, I'm a Fairy Tail wizard, and Fairy Tail wizards never give up."
Erza smiled at her gently and squeezed her hand.
Sensing an opening, Lucy forged ahead. "How is your training going, Erza?"
Erza blinked in surprise. "The Horse is a rigorous taskmaster, but I am learning a lot."
"Uh huh. And what about training for the Task?"
Erza's smile dimmed, and she released Lucy's hand. "I do not know," she said simply.
The sadness in her eye was nearly impossible to look at. Lucy finally understood Natsu's aversion to Erza's tears. There was a desolation in those brown depths that she could not begin to fathom. There had to be something she could say to cheer her up. Lucy grasped at the sole suspicion she had about Erza and Gray's fight. Her tone deliberately light, she said, "You know Erza, before Natsu and I began dating-"
"D-d-dating?!"
The words flew out of her head at the incredulous expression on Erza's face. "Why are you shocked?" A thought occurred to her, and she frowned. "Wait a minute. Didn't you see me sneak into his room a few nights ago?"
"I thought you went there to get a drink of water."
"But then why did you apologise?"
"I believed I had stumbled onto the secret that you are too afraid to go downstairs in the dark. I did not want to shame you."
Lucy paused, an ominous suspicion creeping up her spine. "And when you saw me for the second time? With Natsu? When his lips were on mine?"
Erza blushed crimson and began to poke her index fingers together. "I-I-I thought you fainted from dehydration and that he was trying to revive you using mouth-to-mouth."
The silence stretched toward infinity. Lucy stared at Erza. Erza stared at a spot halfway up the wall. A tumbleweed blew into the bathroom, rolling offscreen into nothingness and ignoring the laws of physics as surely as Erza ignored reality.
Lucy cleared her throat and muttered. "It's my fault for asking."
"It was in a book I read," Erza mumbled, looking down.
"Ah." Lucy sweatdropped.
A strange look stole across Erza's face. She looked this way and that and scooched closer shyly. "Have the two of you," her voice dropped to a whisper, "kissed?"
"Erza... you saw us kissing."
"That was kissing?" Erza sprang back in shock. "But there were no flowers. Where was the rose‑coloured lighting? And why did neither of your eyes become huge and limpid like in a josei manga?"
Lucy closed her eyes and prayed for patience. "I'm scared to ask you who told you this, but I think I already know."
Erza cupped her chin between her thumb and forefinger, suddenly looking disturbed. "This is not at all what Juvia-," she paused, shaken, but unable to keep her lips from quirking up a fraction. "Then she does not know herself?"
Should she bring up the fact that Erza looked unusually happy about it? Lucy quailed when Erza looked up and fixed her with an earnest eye.
"What does it taste like?" she demanded, as though Lucy's was the single authoritative answer that would settle all debate. "Does it taste like… chicken?"
"Only when Natsu has eaten chicken for dinner," Lucy replied, doused in second-hand embarrassment. Noting Erza's confusion, Lucy decided to steer the conversation in a different direction before Erza asked her any more ridiculous questions.
"Ne, Erza," she began slyly, "you seem pretty happy that Juvia doesn't know much about kissing."
All trace of levity disappeared as the sadness returned to Erza's face. She smiled bitterly. "I am trying not to be."
Lucy bit her lip, feeling suddenly wrongfooted as the mood around them plummeted. She had only wanted to tease Erza a little. Coax her to talk about her feelings. Making her unhappy was the furthest from what she wanted.
Erza peered into the water and said softly, almost to herself. "Maybe that's why my heart is in turmoil. I do not want to cause Juvia more unhappiness."
"Don't do that," Lucy replied sharply. Where she got the courage from, she could not say. "Don't use Juvia as an excuse for your hesitation." She ignored the irony of Juvia's biggest (Juvia-proclaimed) love rival coming to her defence and ploughed on. "Don't use her as an excuse for your hesitation when the real reason is that you are scared. She doesn't deserve that."
Lucy winced, expecting the crackle of Erza's anger to blaze through the air. A terrifying, portentous pause fell.
When the apocalypse did not seem forthcoming, Lucy opened a nervous eye to look at her friend.
"You are right," Erza replied bleakly. "I care about her, and that is certainly a complication, but these are just excuses. The truth is, I am scared of getting hurt."
"Erza…"
"I hurt Gray."
"Today?"
Erza nodded, ashamed. "And before. For years." She paused, "It seems that it is now my turn to hurt." She looked up, her eyes suddenly moist. "I have cried so many tears in my lifetime. Is it bad that I do not want to cry anymore?"
Lucy manoeuvred herself next to Erza and hugged her. "You can't stop yourself from getting hurt."
"Should things not be simpler than this?"
Lucy took a moment to reply. "Being with Natsu," she said, "talking to him, hanging out with him—that's simple. But my feelings for him? Those have never been simple. Can I keep him safe? Will I lose him through my weakness or his recklessness? Those are fears that keep me up at night.
"Fear. Pain. Sorrow. These are not things that you can avoid. But that doesn't mean that you should never take a risk. Erza, don't let your fears hold you back."
Erza gave a strangled laugh. "I do not even know what they are holding me back from."
Lucy smiled and stroked her hair. "Then find out. Set aside your fears and let your feelings speak for themselves. You don't need to run towards anything, but there's no need to run away either. You have time. And remember, you are not alone in this."
Erza's arms tightened around her for a long moment before she pulled away. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
"Of course!"
Erza smiled softly. "Thank you, Lucy."
Lucy wanted to tell her not to worry about it. That she was happy that she confided in her. Because Erza was always so strong and stoic. And being able to help Erza, to be there for her, it meant more to her than Erza could ever know. Instead, she just wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Don't mention it."
Snow draped the world, cocooning it in a fluffy blanket of white. Its softness, its yielding nature, they spoke of comfort and safety; of a time, long past, when the things that could harm him were no more than the villains of his mother's lullaby. It was a world of his own; white and grey as far as the eye could see, and no one else but him.
White and grey and orange, he noted with distaste, as someone loomed over his supine form. "You."
"Long time, no see, Gray!" said the Celestial Spirit cheerfully.
"What do you want?" he asked, not bothering to rise.
Loke scratched the back of his head and flopped down on the ground. "When you didn't turn up at practice this morning, Lucy sent me to find you. Nice job hiding, by the way. I had to ask Charle for help to find you."
Gray shrugged. It was not his fault that no one had thought to look for him on the roof.
"Lucy instructed me to apologise."
"I'm not the one you have to apologise to."
"Yeah, but can you imagine me telling Erza why I'm apologising? Immortality only gets you so far, you know."
Gray snorted. "I'm not sorry I punched you."
"I deserved it."
"That you did," he agreed.
A fat snowflake fell on Loke's nose, and he sneezed. "It's freezing out here," he whined, burrowing into his blazer dramatically. "Can't we talk inside?"
Gray sat up, brushing the snow from the back of his hair. "You go ahead. I want to be alone for a while."
Loke muttered something under his breath. "Can't. I've been instructed to 'make you stop acting like a jerk.' Guess we know whose side Lucy is on."
"There are no sides. I'm the one who messed up." Gray leaned forward to brush some snow off the hem of his sodden trousers. "You know," he chuckled wryly, "Cana told me that if I didn't get my head out of my arse that I would cause everyone a lot of grief. I thought she had been talking about Juvia, but now I'm not so sure."
Loke snickered. "What you believe in fortune-telling now?"
"More like it seems to believe in me," he joked, before his expression fell. "I messed up, Loke. Really badly. And I don't know how to fix it." He dug his fingers into the snow, enjoying the stinging pain the cold brought. "I was focused on something trivial, and by the time I resolved that, the real problem had snuck past and taken root."
It made him want to hit himself. All that time spent worrying about being strong enough for Erza, all that time wasted looking inwards that he had not noticed her losing faith in him. It was his own fault. He had known that they were on uncertain terrain, that their relationship was at an inflection point, but he had behaved erratically anyway. Allowed his insecurities to get in the way and fractured what remained of their connection.
"I've lost her friendship. She doesn't trust me anymore," he said bitterly.
"Woah, woah, woah." Loke held his palms up. "You say she doesn't trust you anymore, but aren't you the one not trusting her? The Erza I know would never give up on her friends, no matter what they did."
The veracity of Loke's words slammed into him with the force of a freight train. Gray's eyes widened in shock.
"I think you're borrowing problems, Gray," Loke carried on, unheeding of the effect of his words. "You don't even know how you feel yet. Or how she feels. Worrying about how the chips may fall feels a bit premature."
Gray gave Loke a sidelong glance, wondering if he should ask his friend how he seemed to know so much about his problems without him ever having said a word. On second thought, his ego could probably do without being told how obvious he was. He sighed and flopped back down on the snow. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He had told Ultear that he was choosing happiness, but how could he do that if he was fixated on all the things that could go wrong? Instead of stewing about the future, he needed to tackle current problems—like the Task and how he and Erza were in sorry shape for it. One step at a time. That was the only way to do things.
"Helloooo. Gray?" Loke waved a hand in front of his face. "You're being awfully quiet."
Gray batted away his hand in irritation. "You may have made some points that are worth considering," he said grudgingly.
"Woohoo!" Loke jumped up, clapping. "Does this mean you'll come back inside now?"
"Nah, I still have some stuff I need to think about." Like how he could make things OK with Erza. "But you can tell Lucy that I've decided to stop being a jerk."
Loke grinned. "Don't think too hard now. Your brain might break."
"Bastard," Gray snorted, lobbing a snowball at Loke's retreating back.
'The Erza I know would never give up on her friends.' It was embarrassing that someone else had had to remind him of this. Not even he could manage to lose Erza's trust. Especially not in such a short period of time. She did not feel safe around him, she had said. He understood why. Brushing over the night that they had spent together in the snowstorm had not worked. Her behaviour (and his) at Christmas only confirmed that. Then they had been thrown together for the Task and he had realised just how futile it was to try ignoring what was happening between them. He had panicked and lashed out. He had hurt her. He needed to fix this.
The only question was how.
The clash of steel against steel was deafening. The sunlight streaming through the windows glinted off the duelling swords, making spots of gold dance like fireflies on the wall. Erza blinked. The sweat was dripping down her forehead, but she did not dare stop to wipe it off. "Requip," she muttered, calling forth a sweatband from her pocket dimension. The momentary distraction was enough. The Horse pressed their advantage, forcing Erza on the back foot.
They parried Erza's attempt to regain her position, and then bore down on her. "You are distracted today."
Blade fell upon blade. Erza grunted, her feet sliding backwards as she focused on holding their blow back. "Rest easy. I will give you a good fight, nevertheless." With a guttural cry, she threw their sword off.
The Horse whickered. The next stroke of their sword fell, the blade now sheathed in fire. It was met by green crystal, the flames instantly flickering out as they met her Sea Empress Sword. "Your instincts are impeccable." They resumed their attacks, their sword flashing with great speed. "Your sangfroid, that is to say, your equine -mity in battle is remarkable."
Erza swept aside their thrust, backflipping over their head and turning to attack them from the back. Whoompf! A pair of hooves slammed into her chest, the Horse spinning around mid-transformation. Erza panted, the wind having been knocked out of her.
"It makes one wonder what could have caused that gr-hoove between your brows."
"Are your attacks not cause enough?"
They snorted. "Brief though our acquaintance hay be, I have seen enough of you to know that is untrue. You are too strong for this to faze you."
"No. I am not strong at all." She ducked down low to slash at the Horse's forelocks, only to find that they had exchanged their sword for one with a longer reach. She cursed, rolling over to parry the attack before jumping back to her feet.
She knew better than anyone else how weak she was. How weak her heart was. Even if she had long ago resolved to live with an open heart, living with an open heart also meant opening her heart to hurt. That terrified her.
Clang! Slice. Block. She flipped away again, moving backwards to avoid their sword. There she was doing it again. Running away from hurt. It was what she did every time.
When Jellal had presented her with a fake fiancée she had accepted it, because it had been easier for her than forcing things into the open. And then, when he had not come for her, she had not gone looking for him either. Instead, she had waited. And waited. Because it was less of a risk to wait than to go look for him and be rejected. Finally, when she could wait no longer, she had fled.
She had fled because she had realised the truth and she did not want to stay and look it in the eye.
And now she was running again. From Gray. The person whose voice she heard in her head in her darkest moments. Her best friend.
The Guardian did not know the half of it. She was as weak as they came. If people thought her strong, it was only because she fought so fiercely to protect her family. Because she was too weak to stand on her own without them. Because she would fall apart without them. Just like she seemed to be falling apart without Gray.
The clock stuck the hour just as the Horse backed Erza into a wall. "You have run out the hock, yet again, Ms. Scarlet," they said, dropping their sword.
Erza slid to the floor, panting as she tried to catch her breath.
"Allow me to saddle you with some unsolicited advice." The Horse whipped a rag out of their coat pocket and began oiling their blade. "In a fight, there are always a hundred ways in which to get hurt. The reason you are so fore-midable in battle is because you trust your instincts. Per-chaps, you can try trusting them outside of battle as well."
Erza stared up at them wordlessly.
"The question is, Ms. Scarlet, what are those instincts of yours telling you to do now?"
Her sword shimmered as she stowed it and rose to her feet. There was only one thing her instincts were telling her to do, and that was to run.
So she did.
Erza pushed aside a barren branch, uncaring of the snow that fell on her boots. Charle had told her where he was. She had found the river easily. All she had to do was follow it upstream, to the waterfall she knew was there. The bitter cold burned through her armour as she shoved her way through the leafless undergrowth. The thundering crash of falling water grew louder and louder, until suddenly the trees fell away and there he was, silhouetted against the dark, slippery rocks. The gush of water shimmered over his body; slicking his hair back as it flowed over his generous mouth, past the dark emblem on his chest, and lower still, to the drenched trousers hanging low on his hips. His trademark slouch pushed his hips outwards, giving him an unstudied, louche aura that made her mouth go dry. Erza steadied herself against a tree, the breath stolen from her lungs.
He was beautiful.
Gray looked up. Erza was standing at the edge of the treeline, apprehension and determination mingling on her face. How had she found him? He had not yet figured out what he wanted to say, but something told him that did not matter. This was his chance to fix this. All he had to do was try. He took a deep breath and silently held out his hand.
Erza found her feet moving of their own volition. The freezing water squelched over her boots as she waded into the river, finding her footing by sheer luck, her gaze unable to tear itself away from his. She stopped before him, seeing the question come into his eyes. Her heart thundering, she requipped off her armour, and placed her hand in his. His touch was surprisingly warm as he grasped her hand, filling her body with a heat it had no right to feel in a wintry waterfall.
Ur had always told him that a waterfall was the best place to meditate. The cold strength of its flow washed away everything but that, which most important. Gray guided Erza to the rock next to him. They sat face-to-face, their knees pressing together. The uncertainty roiled inside him, black and acrid. He watched her shut her eye and tip her head back, allowing the water to wash over her. Her easy understanding calmed the tumult in his heart. He exhaled a breath he did not know he had been holding.
The acrimony between them vanished; carried downstream by the water drumming on their scalps. Erza opened her eye and found Gray watching her, and, at once, she knew. The risk was worth taking.
"Something has changed," he said, softly.
"Something has changed," she agreed.
Maybe it had happened that night in the mountains. Maybe it had happened when they had danced together at the guild. Or maybe it had happened on any number of days or nights before or since. Whenever it had happened, something had shifted in their relationship. They were no longer the Gray and Erza of old. They would have to learn to be the Gray and Erza they were now. The Gray and Erza they were becoming.
"I'm scared," he whispered, half-choked.
Erza reached out and clasped his hands. "Me too."
Her grip was confident despite her fear. His hands tightened around hers, drawing her calm surety into himself, letting it assuage all but the worst of his fears. "We're out of sync."
The prickle of doubt frizzed harmlessly over her skin, unable to break her adamantine faith. Smiling, she leaned her forehead against his. "Are we?"
Gray's eyes widened, his body going rigid. But his insecurities were no match for Erza's conviction. She believed in him, he realised, as the last of his resistance fell away. She believed in them. In their bond. He closed his eyes and gave in.
It did not matter where they were going. As long as they were going there together.
His breathing slowed, matching hers, every breath misting in the frosty air and flowing together in silent harmony. They had become of one mind, no longer knowing where one began and the other ended. They sat like that for a long time, speaking without speaking, the connection between them growing thicker, stronger, until it was utterly unbreakable.
The sun smoothed over the pallid sky, sliding sedately toward the horizon. Red, gold and a myriad of colours in-between danced over the landscape, gilding the snow, the water, and their entwined hands. Gray and Erza rose to their feet, stepping together out of the waterfall and finding their way to the riverbank.
The dying rays of the sun caught her hair, and Gray stopped still, a catch in his throat. She tilted her head quizzically, but he had no words with which to reply.
Her heart flipped over in her chest at the look on his face; but, for the first time ever, she did not feel like running away. Electricity fizzed in the space between their bodies, tingling and palpable and filling her with a warmth unlike anything she had ever felt before. It flooded over her, molten hot as it flushed her skin pink.
But it was too soon.
"We should head back," she said quietly, stepping away.
"Yeah," he replied. He had seen it in her face as she moved away; felt the frisson of longing pulse between their bodies. His shoulder brushed hers as he walked past, and they both shivered.
They walked back to the mansion, a careful distance between them despite their synchronous feet. The understanding between them was nascent, unready for upheaval. They still had roads to walk and decisions to take.
Someday there might be more.
Someday there might be more; but not yet.
A/N: Wow it's almost been a year. I've had this chapter typed up for almost 15 months but somehow it wasn't just right. But I made a few tweaks a month or so ago and then suddenly it was perfect.
I thought I'd build a chapter buffer before posting, but I have only one chapter in the bank at the moment.
I wish I could promise regular updates but sometimes life gets in the way. My new job keeps me busy AF during the week and weekends I barely have the energy to do my household chores. But you know. I promise to keep trying.
It's a bit like past me had this amazing and intricate circuitry for all the moving parts of this fic. And she left excellent notes, but present me isn't as clear on the connections. It's like a rusty spaceship you find after years in the desert. It still works, but the boards are a bit rusted and sometimes it's slow.
My mum died last year. It'll be 9 months soon. That's part of the reason why I was on hiatus. She was OK, and then things got bad very quickly, and then she was gone. We were very, very close. I've just been figuring out how to navigate my life without her since.
But let's not end on a sour note. I do want to make writing my career at some point, and figuring out how to keep up with a regular writing schedule is an important aspect of that. So fingers crossed I figure it out and manage to finish QE soon so I can move onto other projects.
A/N 2: Thanks to everyone who faved/followed and reviewed. The notifications were nice to receive when everything else was dark. Please do leave a review this time, if you feel like it. Hope you enjoy the update! :)
