title: ad infinitum

summary: I would live a thousand lifetimes, if I could have just have one with you. JellalErza

a/n: Alternatively summary "6 false starts and one beginning."

disclaimer: Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima

i.

It's raining, and she's late.

Erza Scarlet stamps her foot, watching the rain fall in little rivulets around her toes. Six o'clock in New York City, she can't find a cab, she's soaking, and she's late to the biggest interview in her career, in her life, in her existence, even. (Her mother would tell her she was being dramatic. The way she sees it, she's just being honest.)

Erza wonders if she can sue the universe for mismanagement.

After a minute, the frustration wears away to be replaced by a deep, bone weary ache. Erza considers sitting down, kicking off her shoes, and dipping her feet in the water, because who even cares now? As far as she can see, her chances are already shot to Hell. All the bigshots would be sitting in their dry, luxurious offices, shaking their heads and closing their eyes in disapproval. She would be stuck filing papers for the rest of her life.

Then the rain stopped.

Erza looked around, but it was still pouring everywhere else, rain drowning newspaper and gutter and occasional cat with a vengeance. Then how- oh.

Standing above her was a tall, smiling, blue haired (blue haired?) man, holding an umbrella over her head.

"What- thanks." She looked at him for a moment. Six years in this city, and no stranger had ever held umbrella over her head in the rain.

"Well now, I couldn't just leave a pretty girl standing out all alone in this weather, could I?" He smiled slightly. "You're welcome."

At that moment, a yellow taxi came hurtling towards them, splashing water when it stopped. Erza bit her lip. "I should- yeah."

"Go ahead. Nice meeting you, miss." The man swished the umbrella over his head in an overly formal salute. Erza giggled, and his smile, slightly crooked around the edges, was the last thing she saw before the cab pulled away.

(In the end, she arrived for her meeting over an hour late, soaked and shivering, and left under the pretense of hypothermia. But not even the thought of a life threatening disease could keep the soft smile off her face, not quite.)

ii.

Erza sprints out of Starbucks with a latte in her hand, the plastic bag with Lucy's frappuccino, Natsu's horrible espresso and Gray's ice tea bumping her thigh as she ran.

Why, oh why, did it have to be her to do the coffee run today? Muttering dark threats, she rounded the corner, skipped across a crack in the sidewalk, and-

Bumped right into someone else. Of course she did.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, but you should have been more careful, but I'm sorry-"Erza paused her rant to look at her victim properly. Slightly skewered glasses, messy blue hair, a strange red tattoo on one side of his face. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry." He stepped graciously out of the way. "Please, go ahead."

Erza brushed by him, ignoring the scent of his laundry detergent, ignoring completely the tiny flush of warmth as their shoulders touched.

In a fairy tale, they would meet again at a royal ball. In a fairy tale, they would fall in dizzying love and marry and honeymoon in Pairs.

Erza hoist her bag and walks away. She doesn't see him again.

iii.

Jellal holds the bouquet of flowers gingerly in one hand, pushing the rusted cemetery gate open with the other. The trees cast spiky shadows on the uncut grass, the tombs look like crooked lines of teeth. He places the flowers on his mother's grave, like he does every Thursday, and turns to leave, but a small gravestone catches his eye.

He should leave. He should really leave. But he finds himself stepping closer, skirting a row of graves to stand in front of the gravestone.

In loving Memory of Erza Scarlet, the queen of our Fairies.

The birth and death dates would put her at sixteen, Jellal realized with a mild sense of shock, just a year younger than him. That someone that young should be snatched from this world so fast and so cruelly, without the chance to ever grow up, hurt for some unexplained reason, like a slow stab to his heart.

Jellal will never know Erza Scarlet. He will never know her smile, her laugh, the color of her hair. He will never know her likes, her fears, her ambitions. He will never know if she hiccups when she drinks milk too fast, or if she sneezes in the sun. But he misses her.

Sliding a dark red rose from his mother's bouquet, he places it carefully on Erza's grave. It feels right, somehow.

See you on the flipside, Titania, he thinks. He leaves the graveyard, closing the door carefully as he leaves.

iv.

There are too many dark mages, there are too many, too many closing in on them at all sides, sneering and holding balls of dark fire aloft. Taurus is swinging his axe to the left, Gray is icing his opponent's feet to the right, and at the center of it all, the genesis of the storm, Erza and Jellal stand back to back, knees weak, eyes defiant.

"Too many." It's a statement, not a question. Jellal nods grimly, relighting his hands with blazing, blinding light.

It was too bright. She was too tired. Whatever the reason, Erza didn't see the spell until it was too late, didn't see the flashing hex until it was right in front of her. She draws in a breath, closes her eyes, and waits for the end.

Jellal jumps in front of her.

Of course he does, Erza will think when it is all over, when her friends have dragged her away from where she collapsed, of course he did, the bastards, the arrogant, stupid, self-sacrificing fool.

According to shojo novels and Levy's lore, Jellal should have done something romantic with his last moments. He should have declared his love, proclaimed his undying devotion to her. If he had the time, he should have kissed her.

Instead, his eyes just soften slightly. You know. His eyes soften, and his smiles, a sad, bitter ironic twist of his lips. Then he is gone.

I know, Erza had thought, the phrase bouncing around in her head. I know, and she paints the sky with her screams.

v.

"Hey, Er-chan, take a look, it's the hottie lawyer you have a crush on! On television!"

Erza whips around, her cheeks flushing as bright as her hair. "Milliana! Keep your voice down!" She bites her lip. "Besides, I do not have a crush on him."

"Sure you don't," Milliana singsonged, sashaying her hips around Erza's desk. "Which is why you tried to impersonate a tomato and actually checked your hair, god, Erza, you're pathetic." Erza shook her head vigorously.

"Okay, shush. He's talking." Milliana turned up the volume, perching cattily on the edge of a desk. On screen, Jellal Fernandez was smiling politely at a group of journalists, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Well boys, you know how it is." He smiled ruefully, flipping some of his hair out of his eyes. "Confidentiality."

Next to her, Milliana was chattering about how 'Jellal' sounded vaguely Arabic, and that he was very cute, does he have a girlfriend? But Erza's eyes were fixed on the screen, entranced, at where Jellal was standing, eyes up, looking right at her, looking right at her.

I am pathetic, she thought cheerfully as she hugged her pillow that night. Later, there would be time for growing up, time for real boyfriends and marriage and children. But for now her head floated in the clouds, eyes lined with sunshine, mind filled with Jellal Fernandez, the hazel of his eyes, and his secret, private smile.

vi.

She's beautiful, Jellal realized absently as Erza walked down the aisle, radiant in her wedding dress and her necklace and her happiness. She smiled at Jellal, a grin of barely contained happiness, and he smiled back slowly, raising his eyes.

"Today's the day!" She woke him up at four A.M., giggling and half gasping through the phone, "Today's the day I'm getting married!"

Now she stood calm and peaceful, close to him on the dais. She nodded a bit when she said yes, as if to reaffirm it.

"… And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Yes, it was just behind Jellal's teeth, itching on his tongue. To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, yes, yes, god yes, forever and ever and always."

"I do," came a voice to his right and Jellal turned, wearing his tux and his fake smile, to see Simon Mizakuchi, his best friend and his worst enemy, kiss the girl he's always loved.

Life's funny that way, he thinks as he drinks copious amounts of champagne and dances with the whiny bridesmaids. Life's so very funny. He turns and catches Erza's eyes, flashing her a reassuring smile.

(Congratulations, he will say later. Congratulations to the married couple. His voice won't shake, his hands won't tremble, and he'll go home and light a cigarette in the early morning, and think, now, wasn't that fun?)

0.

Erza wears slate grey when they pronounce Jellal Fernandez a free man.

She stands outside Era's majestic sweeping staircase, wearing a plain charcoal skirt and sweater, and a fixed, resolute gaze. She didn't bring her armor today, a choice she deliberated over with one gauntlet on and one off at midnight. She doesn't think she needs it.

The sun is just starting to tickle her neck when Jellal walks out, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a slip of paper like their commandments from the Lord. He does a little double take when he sees her, almost as if he didn't expect her there, and she has to smile at that, smile because that is so very Jellal.

She is silent as the guards explain probation and best behavior, silent when they warn him off and walk away. He turns to face her.

"Well then," his face is smooth, impassive. For once, Erza can't tell what he's thinking.

Ten years of childhood, nine of bitter hatred, two of quiet longing and seven of blank silence, and every decision Erza's made, every step she's ever taken, feel like they've led her here, standing in the sunlight with Jellal, the man she hates and loves and can't understand, can maybe never understand.

"Erza, I've been thinking," he starts, then stops.

Lifetimes of loss and betrayal and forgiveness and lust, hands barely touching underneath a table, stolen glances in a crowded room. Erza wouldn't give them up, not a single one, not even when she was curled in the center of her bed cursing Jellal Fernandez with every breath in the body, not even when he made her cry.

They're older now, broken and pieced back together, scarred and imperfect. But they could be the children they were so many years ago, they could be the strangers who never met, they could be colleagues or enemies or married to other people or even dead, but it wouldn't matter to them, because they're Jellal and Erza, they are infinity, and somehow, they'll make this work.

"I love you," Erza whispers, stepping forward and fisting his shirt in her hands. When he kisses her, he tastes like hope and promise and fresh starts.

They're not perfect. They'll fight and scream and maybe throw the occasional chair, but they don't need perfect. When he leans back and smiles are her, Erza can't help but smile back.

"This feels like an ending," she says under her breath.

"No," he laughs, tipping his head back, letting his eyes catch the sun, "No, this is just the beginning." And he kisses her again, and Erza believes him.

a/n: quite possibly the sappiest thing I have ever written. Please, read and review, I'd love to know what you think!