A/N: I'm so nervous about being back here. But hey...if you're still around. I never thought I'd be back after falling off the grid but a reader reached out to me recently. This is the result of the small conversation we had. To that reader (and to everyone else who'll be reading), I hope you'll like this new chapter until I update again.
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"Erza!" Laxus shouted, running on the path she was on just seconds ago. Each time he paused in his tracks, he raised his gun – left then swept his arms to a sharp right – ready to shoot if he saw the blue-haired bastard.

He called her name again. Blackbirds settled in the trees above, cawing back at Laxus and flapping their wings obstinately as if to shut him up. Shit! Why hadn't he just shot the son of a bitch when he had the chance? He'd had a clear shot of him. But Erza had run ahead of him and, quick as a lightning bolt, had cut him off.

"Erza!" he yelled again. Frustration scratched his throat raw on another earnest bellow. He snatched his transceiver from his belt and took two sharp, decisive breaths before he depressed the button and spoke.

"This is TC-six." TC-six was his transceiver identification code. He paused to lick his dry lips as he looked over the deep precipice Erza had fallen. She was gone. Their perpetrator was gone. No footprints. No sign of a struggle; just a dirt path that led right back around to the beaten and rusted gates of Paradise. There was no movement in the looming reeds beyond. The golden brown stalks only swayed with an occasional brush of the wind. It was as if they had disappeared…

"Six-four." He jerked back to the present at the response. "Laxus, what's the problem?" Macao Conbolt's familiar voice came in over the static. He was a senior officer in the force, cresting retirement but his stubborn will to stay persuaded Gran Doma to keep him on administrative duties.

Laxus took a large gulp to push down the dread building in his throat, but it only pooled hot and heavy in his chest – made his breathing difficult. Pride be damned, he had to admit his failure.

"Calling in a six-ten. Erza…I lost her. She's gone. Some guy made off with her," he swallowed again and his throat itched with a dry cough, "I think it's the same guy linked to the missing girls' case."

"What! Where are you right now?"

Laxus slipped his gun back in its holster, shoulder sagging with the motion, "Paradise ruins, off Magnolia Crescent – near the church."

"Six-four." A short pause. "Gildarts is in the area, sending him your way right now."

"Six-four," he replied and clipped the transceiver back to his belt.

His hand flopped to his side like a dead weight. Why wasn't he more alert? How could he have been so stupid to let Erza go ahead of him like that? But it didn't make sense their suspect made off with her so easily and quickly. She'd have put up a fight; she would've screamed, yelled some directive to Laxus. This wasn't the first time a suspect had tried to subdue her or use her as a hostage against her partner. And even without Laxus' help, she always turned the situation around with her sharp and quick wit.

Perhaps it was the fall that rattled her. Her surprised scream indicated that much. Had she hit her head on the landing and passed out? That would've made it easy for the bastard to make off with her. But he couldn't have without Laxus seeing him. Only the deep landing of the precipice was out of Laxus' periphery. But he'd have seen if the man ran straight for the reeds, or around the parameters of the ruins. It brought back his earlier thought that they had simply disappeared into thin air. A parallel universe. Something.

It was stupidly far-fetched but there was no logical conclusion to this mess. He scratched his fingers through his hair, blunt nails crudely scraping at his scalp. If anything happened to Erza, it would be his fault. He would have failed the force, failed his partner. He would've failed his damn self and the promise he had made to always protect her as long they were partners. He should have taken the shot when he had the chance.

"Laxus!"

His head whipped around in the direction of the deep voice approaching him. Gildarts Clive, the force captain in charge of the Magnolia district, strode to Laxus' side. He stood two inches taller than Laxus, lean and muscular, with a stern gaze the color of a warm sky and low cut auburn hair. His sharp jaw and upper lip were lined with a thick beard. Behind him, two officers got out of the patrol car and began walking the perimeter of the ruins. His troubled expression mirrored Laxus', though the latter's face was weathered with guilt.

The first thing out Gildarts' mouth was an encouragement. "We'll find her Laxus, or she'll find us. Erza's a fighter, you know that. No one can take her down easily."

While that was true – proven time and again – Laxus couldn't help the souring mix of apprehension and doubt in his gut. This entire situation set all his nerve endings on fire. Something about it wasn't right and he didn't know what it was. Not knowing made him all the more paranoid. But he needed Erza to come back to him. Alive. If she turned up in a body bag…

"Laxus!"

His eyes snapped up to the dark and concerned gaze of the older male. Having his attention, Gildarts asked again, "Where did he take her?"

Laxus led him to the edge overlooking the precipice, "She fell here," he pointed to the landing, "and that was it. They disappeared."

Confusion twitched at the man's lips and brows. Yeah, Laxus thought, it doesn't make sense to me either. "Disappeared? How far away were you?"

"Only a couple feet. I would've seen him if he made any moves with her."

Gildarts frowned and Laxus watched his eyes thoughtfully rove the surrounding area. He could almost hear similar thoughts running through Gildarts' mind. The situation was odd, but their only option was to investigate and keep searching for her or any clues leading to her.

"Let's go back to the station, make the report. About time we try to get an APB on that suspect too. Did you get a good look at him? You're sure it's the same man the girl described? The one linked to the missing girls?"

It had been a split second realization, but yes. Laxus was sure. He saw the scar. Like a tattoo over his left eye, just as Lucy had said. And the sunlight had highlighted the deep blue of his hair. There was no mistake. His face had been burned into Laxus' retinas and came back with vivid clarity. "It's him. I know what he looks like."

The older man nodded, an austere look settling over his features. "We'll find her Laxus. I'm sure of it."

Laxus looked up when Gildarts clapped his shoulder and squeezed, a reassuring smile softened his jaw. The confidence in his tone made Laxus want to believe him. That same confidence and unmatched grit were what made Gildarts retain his four-year status as captain for the force. Laxus had heard the legendary tales of how the man had led his team through lethal and tense battles with criminals: shootouts and hostage situations. He had lost two force members to violence and personally honored them along with other fallen members of the force every year. Each fatalistic encounter he survived immortalized him as a hero. All the young recruits wanted to be just like him. When Laxus had just joined the force, he had scoffed at the stories – all of them sounded too bloated and pretentious for him to take Gildarts' standing seriously. If anything, the man sounded overhyped and not worth even a pinch of salt. But Laxus' training in Magnolia, which led up to his first life-or-death experience while on a duty call with Gildarts, changed his perspective. Gildarts had saved his life by taking a bullet for him. That same night, he'd held Laxus' shoulder in the same reassuring way and told him everything would be alright.

He had believed him then. But somehow, it was impossible to bring himself to trust in those words now.

O.o.O.o

Jellal's hideout was so perfectly concealed; Erza knew she and Laxus would have never found this place on their own. When Jellal had pulled an iron ring in the ground that lifted to show wooden steps leading underground, Erza had squinted at the contraption as though it were something out of a movie. Only Jellal's urgent tug on her hand got her to follow him quickly down the stairway.

But now, her mind crowded with unease and regret. She had made a mistake. Why did she follow Jellal and not give in to her impulse as a cop to arrest him? She was betraying her position and the girls who were missing, some murdered – they deserved justice. How could she sit in this room, waiting for Jellal to return? What if he went for the woman? How many more persons were involved in this mess?

Approaching footsteps pitched her overworking mind over the edge and she whipped her gun from its holster in a quick and trained move. Safety off. Finger on the trigger.

Jellal appeared and, eyes registering the gun pointed at him, his hands flew up – palms out in surrender. The cup he was holding fell to the floor, liquid splashing over stone.

"It's only me, Red."

He was back to the nickname. She stared at him, eyes narrowed cautiously, "Are we the only ones here?"

Jellal nodded, unmoving, eyes darting from the gun to her face then back again.

She didn't lower her weapon, "Where's the woman?"

"Not here. She's been gone since yesterday evening."

"Then when is she coming back?"

His shoulders lifted then fell, "I don't know. Sometimes she goes away for days…" he trailed off. "She's not here Red. I won't let her hurt you. I won't hurt you."

Her brows dipped then drew close, conflicted emotions playing over her face. She couldn't decide what to do when her mind felt this muddled. As if sensing her vulnerable state, Jellal slowly stepped forward, hands still up with palms out.

"Believe me, Red. Please," he implored. The closer he got, the lower her hands went until she tucked the gun back in its holster. His hands came to his sides then. They were only inches apart.

"I don't know what to do," she said openly, looking up at him as if his eyes held the answers she looked for. But all she found was concern and his own bewilderment, as though he understood her predicament.

"I told you not to get involved with me."

"You asked me if I trusted you," she countered.

"You should've said no."

"Would you have come willingly if I put cuffs on you?"

He fell quiet then; her gaze tracked his path to the bed in the left corner of the room where he sat. The lamplight encased the room in an orange glow. Now that Erza had the chance to look around, the room was bare except for a small table with a wooden chair and Jellal's cot. The stone walls…she pressed her palm to the uneven surface. She remembered it, she remembered this place. The expansive underground shelter that had been transformed into punishment chambers for naughty kids. Jellal and Erza had spent many nights discovering every hidden corner, unveiling every dark secret these walls harbored. Each room measured about the same as an average solitary confinement cell. There were no windows, back then an old ventilation system had provided stuffy oxygen. There had been no bathrooms on the inside.

Erza had been reduced to living like swine many times: sobbing in her own filth until the house mother decided she had suffered enough and learned her lesson. Then she had been made to clean all of it. Once she had to…bile rose in her throat at the horrible memory; she pivoted on her heel as if to physically escape it and faced Jellal.

"Why did you stay here? Why didn't you leave?"

He thought about it, giving the room a cursory glance. "I tried to. I wanted to leave, countless times but…I couldn't." It was a struggle to find the right words about what tethered him to Paradise like shackles around his hands and feet. Perhaps it was fear that he didn't know anything but the orphanage. No one had extended a helping hand to him while he'd been there, no one had wanted to adopt him, so who would have shown him kindness when he left? Who could he have turned to? But then he'd met Ultear.

"She met me here," he confessed quietly. "She told me that if I couldn't bring myself to leave, all I had to do was recreate my past and find a way out."

Erza walked over to him, "How exactly have you been rewriting your past?"

Jellal's eyes caught a cautionary shadow, "Why did you become an officer? I was shocked when I saw you in uniform. You said you wanted to be a teacher."

He hadn't changed. Avoiding a subject with curious questions of his own had always been one of his favorite tactics to escape topics that troubled him. But his attempt was too obvious, and Erza wasn't the naïve one anymore who went right along with it.

"I started thinking it's better if I tried protecting people instead. Like those girls who went missing, Jellal."

His gaze dipped to the side and Erza followed the downward motion, getting to her knees in front of him. Her face level with his chest, she took his hands in her own and squeezed them. "You know what happened to those girls don't you?"

Each time she shifted so their eyes could meet, he stubbornly averted his. "Why did you let Lucy escape?" Chestnut irises locked on her face then.

"She's alive?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Erza nodded, "She said you helped her escape. What happened to the other girls?"

Jellal expelled bated breath and closed his eyes a moment. At least he'd been able to save one. But to Erza's question, he shook his head. "I can't tell you that."

"You know what happened to them, and you have to tell me," she insisted.

"You're better off not knowing." Agitation grew in his tone.

"But we can help them."

"I said no!"

The rising note of irritation in his voice fired Erza's own anger at his resistance, "Why can't you?" she demanded.

"Because I can't lose you!" he yelled back, shaking her by the shoulders. Erza stared in mute surprise at him, watching his nostrils flare and a shadow of frustration pass from his face. He sighed and hung his head, "You're back in my life, it's been so long since I've had anyone I know I can trust." He raised his head to hers, "I can't put you in danger, Red. I won't."

She bit her lip to suppress the surge of emotions that fought its way up her throat. After a few deep breaths and blinking back tears, she sought his gaze again.

"I'm a cop now, Jellal. I'm not the helpless little girl you always had to protect anymore. Let me help you, we can report it at the station and –"

"The police can't handle this, Red." He said it so seriously, so ominously, Erza found it hard to doubt him. But she tried again.

"You can't say that when you haven't even tried to –"

"You think I haven't?" he cut in tersely. "Red…this is bigger than the police. You all can't…" he shook his head, unable to find the right words, "I have to handle this on my own – make things right my own way."

Erza had heard this type of stony resolve enough to understand the foreboding connotation. "Killing her won't change anything. You're the one who'll still suffer the consequences. Don't you see that?"

"I can't think of another way to stop this."

"Then let me help you." She squeezed his hands again, "Please. I don't want you to fight this alone anymore."

They stared at each other for a long while, Erza silently compelling him to trust in her ability to help. He broke the heavy silence with a soft laugh.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, "What's so funny?"

"This situation. Memories. Don't you remember? This is how we became friends, you wouldn't stop bugging me to let you help me get revenge on the house mother and the boys who always troubled you."

She smiled through the recall of past events. Jellal had always sternly told her no until her headstrong persistence had worn him down.

"You could never say no to me," she teased on a chuckle, her left cheek dimpling.

Jellal stared at her, studying her smile as his hand came up to her cheek, "No…I couldn't."

She stiffened, cautious of his touch. But as the backs of his fingers brushed over her warm cheek, the tension ebbed from her shoulders and she looked up into his eyes. The desire settling in their depths was new to her. Jellal had never looked at her in this way; he had thought of her as a little sister so much that her young, feminine crush on him had gone unnoticed. She had thought those unrequited feelings long buried, but they came to the surface just then – intense and overwhelming.

"You've grown a lot, Red," he murmured, fingers shifting to her chin and angling her head up to his as he leaned in. Closer.

Erza's eyes hooded with anticipation, lips parting to welcome the kiss she'd fantasized of so many times before. His lips grazed hers as a request for permission. She chased his lips with acquiescence. And then their lips pressed together. It began chaste, as though mimicking the stages of a slow passion. His lips parted and it was Erza who sought his tongue with a light tap of her own, then more sure strokes as their kiss deepened. They found a rhythm, bodies shifting closer. His legs widened and she inched forward. His hand sank into the thick, red tresses of her hair and cupped the back of her head.

She straightened on her knees and pressed into Jellal, breasts flattening into his midriff. The motion coaxed a satisfied sound from deep in Jellal's throat and his hand slipped to cup her breast and squeeze.

This was what Erza wanted, after burying her feelings for so long – casting them over with superficial relationships that never quite filled the void within her. She had always yearned for more than the physical, had always craved an intimate bond that possessed heart and soul. Jellal was the only one who could give it to her. He was her only solace, the only thing that had ever made sense in her fucked up world. And she didn't want to let him go. Even as her gut bittered over the choices she made, she couldn't bring herself to stop.

She wanted Jellal. Needed him. And by the way he took her in his arms and straddled her over his lap, hugging her to him, she knew he needed her too.

But their kindled passion was snuffed too soon by the sound of footsteps. Erza was halfway off Jellal when a woman stepped into the narrow doorway and stared at them. A fascinated smile played on her red lips, her eyes matching its color in a deeper hue. Erza had never seen a woman so pale, yet beautiful. Her skin was so white, you would believe there was an ethereal glow off her skin. Her black hair fell over thin shoulders that stopped at her waist. The straps of her black dress were tied around her neck, and the skirt – made of chiffon material – showed shapely legs. Erza couldn't deny it; the woman was bewitching but that smile prickled goosebumps all over her flesh.

"Well Jellal, you never told me we were having a guest."

When Erza looked back at him, the familiarity in his gaze was gone, replaced by a vacuous light as if he no longer knew her.

O.o.O.o