When the Lights Go Out

Epilogue

Seed

She wasn't entirely sure what compelled her to bury the piercings in the small garden behind Fairy Hills. Sure it's were she and Lily lived. But …

But …

Ah, it didn't matter. That's what she did. That's where she buried them.

Where she buried the only thing left of him.

Where she buried what she sometimes thought as the only thing left of her.

But that was seven years ago. Seven long, long years. She had learned that she was strong enough to keep sorrow from killing her. So had Wendy. So had everyone else.

But not dying and actually moving on were different things. Seven years and she never forgot her love for him. She looked at other men. Had even dated other men. Let them touch her. Let them kiss her. But it was never the same. It was never right.

Seven years and she still missed him.

Always on the anniversary of his … not his death, they didn't know when exactly that was, but the anniversary of his … his return. Always on the anniversary of his return, she, Pantherlily, and Wendy would visit the small memorial where his piercings were buried.

His piercings and Wendy's eye. She didn't want it back, and she decided that it belonged with what remained of Gajeel. It came back with him, so it should stay with him, was her assessment of the situation.

Levy had never really understood that, but she never argued with the girl's wishes either.

So every year they visited the resting place of Gajeel's iron and Wendy's sight, and spoke soft words of their love for him. Their remembrance of his loss. Their gratefulness for the time they had with him. Their wish for his peace, wherever he was now.

Every year.

Every year.

But on this year. The Seventh Year. Something was different. Something had changed.

The three of them walked to the garden after sharing a large breakfast. Each brought with them a utensil or some other scrap of metal to lay at the foot of the modest marker. She was pretty sure they were carried off by birds; none of the metal they left ever stayed long, but it was the thought that counted. And the ritual of it that mattered.

They reached the place. Expecting the steal grave marker and green grass.

What they found was an infant.

Still. Calm.

With dark hair.

And ruby eyes.

Levy lost the power in her legs. She almost screamed. Almost expected that it was a nightmare. She had plenty of those, after. But they'd faded in recent years.

Faded, but not gone completely.

She'd dreamed of children before. Of course she did. When desire and sorrow mixed. Of course she did.

But never children on his grave. Never a child that looked so much …

Lily crept to him. Cautious. It was clear he suspected danger.

Yes. Yes. That was smart. It couldn't be what it seemed. It was a trap.

And anyway, what it seemed was impossible.

Impossible.

And cruel as well. So cruel.

Seven years and a baby upon his grave.

"I don't sense anything. It's just a child," Lily said, his voice clear with no hints of emotion. He hadn't touched the thing.

Hadn't touched the boy.

Naked on the grass. Alone for who knew how long. Untouched. Unfed. A child that size should be crying. Should be frustrated and angry. Greedy with his hunger and his fear of the alien world that surrounded him.

But he was still. And calm. And made no sounds.

"Dark Son of the Dark Earth," Wendy whispered at her side. She hadn't moved either. But she hadn't lost her strength and fallen to the ground either.

"I still remember," Levy replied. "I still remember her calling him that. But I never found, in all my research, what it might mean. You didn't know either. What could it mean?"

"I'm not sure." Lily was kneeling next to the boy, studying him closely. Wendy watched. "I'm not sure. I only remember bits and pieces. But it's obvious isn't it? 'Dark Son of the Dark Earth'. She took what he was and she made what she took into this."

"So it's him," Levy only just managed the whisper.

"No. Some bit of his power, maybe, but it can't be him. It can't be."

Lily lifted the child, gently. Held him like he'd held children before. Levy couldn't remember him much with children. Not of that size.

"But it's his eyes. Without the … without the age. The experience. But they're his eyes!" She was almost crying. Almost. But not yet. She pushed herself from the ground. Forced strength into her body to keep her standing, and Lily brought the child to her.

"Gajeel," she whispered, and Wendy said 'no'.

"I will take care of him," Lily said. Eyes on the child. Soft look on his face. "It's no problem. I will watch him."

"No!" Wendy said again. Louder this time and fear behind the word. "Dark Son of the Dark Earth! She made him, don't you understand! He's not for us. She'll take him again. It'll happen again! He might as well," her voice broke, "he might as well be an illusion for all he means something to us. He's not ours to keep."

The girl. Young woman. She ran to the marker. Ran to where the child had rested, and dug in the earth. Ripping up chunks of grass and throwing great fistfuls of soil above and behind her. She looked wild. Crazed.

Levy had not seen her look that way in years.

But even that, even concern for a dear friend couldn't keep her eyes from the small boy. "Gajeel," she whispered again, and reached out a trembling fingertip to brush his cheek. Reassured that he was solid. Real. Levy opened her hand and brushed it through the fine wisps of his dark hair.

"So soft. He was never so soft."

"He wasn't a baby either," Lily reminded her, but his expression too was one of awe and guarded happiness.

"Here!" Wendy said, pulling a dirty box from the ground. It was the box they'd placed Gajeel's piercings in. And Wendy's eye. Wendy wrenched the thing open. Looked inside. Made a sound between a sob and a yell and showed them the emptiness in the box. No metal. No eye.

"She made him! He's hers! She sent the metal back so she could build a new … a new subject from the remains of the old. The one she killed. Levy. Lily. You can't act like this is a second chance. It's not. It's not. Ten years. Fifteen. Twenty. Now. I don't know! But she'll take him again. We'll go through it all again."

Levy smiled and touched the boy's face once again. "I know you're afraid. I'm not entirely sure either. But he won't be the Dark Son of the Dark Earth. He won't be Gajeel. Not our Gajeel. The old Gajeel. There are no more dragons, so he can't be a dragonslayer. And whatever hardness there was in Gajeel's childhood, he won't face with Lily and me. He won't be the Dark Son of the Dark Earth. He will be another happy son of Fairy Tail." She looked at Lily and he smiled at her with the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

"His name is Demir. And he is mine. He is Lily's. He is the guild's. He will not be hers."

"But she made him," Wendy insisted. Coming closer. Clutching the box to her abdomen. "She made him. It had to be for a reason. She had to expect to take him back. To raise him as her own! For whatever reason, he has to be hers. She'll take him again, Levy!"

"I'd like to see her try," was her answer.

Author's Note: So yeah. No idea why I did this. The piercings as seeds were my idea for a "happy" ending in the last official chapter, but I didn't go with it because … well I didn't think it was right. Horror and all. But then tonight I just couldn't let go of it. That image of a baby from the earth.

So here it is. A somewhat happy epilogue. But Wendy has a point. It's probably bittersweet. The Dark Earth made him for some purpose, just as she did the first time. Will she take him again when he strays from her path once more? Will she kill Levy this time for being the cause of another failure? Destroy the guild?

Or will Fairy Tail defeat one-half of the power of the Earth?

We'll never know. I'm not writing any more of this! Seriously. I'm not. I refuse! I have to do something DIFFERENT!