AN: Second chapter, better late than never. Thank you so much to everyone who've read and left feedback on the first! It is a very different setting and mood than Hard Liquor, but I'm glad so many are intrigued despite the dirt and the grime. I hope you enjoy the continuation! Now, let's see how Levy is doing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does.

Chapter II

"Pregnant?"

Porlyusica raised an amused brow from where she stood leaning against her desk. "That's what I said. Ya need me ta run that by you again?"

Levy didn't answer, only stared at the older woman. She'd come in for a check up because she'd been feeling ill for a few days, but...

"Pregnant?" she mumbled to herself, hand drifting over her stomach. There wasn't even a noticeable swelling, but then food had been scarce and she hadn't been eating as well as she'd used to. She'd thought her weight was the cause behind her missed monthly bleedings, too.

Sweat broke out across her palms as the full weight of the realization descended upon her shoulders. She should have known – she'd been through it all once before so something should have tipped her off. But she hadn't even thought about it – hadn't considered the possibility that there would, or could, be another one. The last year had been about coping, about making it from one day to the next and keeping her head above water, and she'd just started finding her way back...She wasn't prepared for it...this. Not now, with the way things were. Her last pregnancy had done a number on her, but at least then she'd still had plenty of nutritious food to eat. Now...now they were barely feeding themselves as it was.

And considering what had happened last time, during ideal circumstances...

Her reaction must have worried the usually stoic doctor, because the next thing she knew, there were gnarled hands gripping hers, and she looked up to see Porlyusica kneeling before her. "Breathe," she instructed, and Levy drew a starved breath, startled to realize she'd been holding it. When she exhaled, the older woman patted her hands. "Good girl. Now," she rose, and went back to her desk. "You've been through this once before, so you know the specifics." She cast a glance over her shoulder, perhaps to make sure Levy hadn't completely broken down. "You ready to hear this, or d'ya need a moment?" It was a rare display of sympathy from a woman who usually slapped her patients upside the head.

Part of her wanted to say yes, she was ready to hear this, was ready to do it because what else could she do? But as she met the old doctor's sharp gaze, she didn't know if she could even accept it. Her last pregnancy...the loss had carved her completely hollow, and she didn't think she'd ever have the strength to try again. Not after last time. She didn't think she could handle it again, carrying it to full term only to realize...

"Hey!"

She snapped out of her thoughts, to find Porlyusica proffering a handkerchief at her, and she noticed with a start that her cheeks were wet. "Thank you," she mumbled, accepting the piece of cloth.

Porlyusica sighed. "Girl," she began, taking a seat beside her, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can tell what yer thinkin', and it's not gonna do ya any good if this is what yer gonna be focusing on for the next few months."

Levy shook her head, voice wavering, "I know that, I just...I can't–" she stopped herself, before a sob tore its way from her throat, and she buckled forward.

It was testament to how long it had been since she'd cried – since she'd felt anything other than numbness – by the relief that accompanied it. She'd begun to worry the hollowness was going to be there forever, that she was never going to feel anything again, even fear and sorrow.

But the fear was real, and she felt every cold inch of it as she came to terms with her condition, and everything it entailed. All the things that could go wrong, that had gone wrong, once. Her shoulders shook as she wept, and Porlyusica let her, placing a hand on her back in silent support. She'd been there throughout her last pregnancy, from the very beginning and through months of planning and excitement; she'd been there for every check-up and every question Levy had been able to think of. And she'd been there on that day – the one she couldn't think about without feeling sick to her stomach.

And now she'd had to face it again...all those months, wondering and worrying where she'd once been all excitement and eager anticipation. Just the thought that it could go wrong again had her scared out of her wits.

The hand rubbed circles on her back until her sobs had subsided, and she was left feeling heavy and lethargic. Nausea roiled in her stomach, but she pushed the feeling back, and tried to clear her head enough to think straight. She registered that Porlyusica left to ask Wendy to make some tea, and by the time the older woman came back with a tray and a steaming pot, she'd calmed down somewhat.

A warm cup was placed into her hands without preamble, and the older woman ordered her to drink. "I'll do ya good," she grumbled, as she placed the teapot on her desk. Next thing she knew, there was a tray of biscuits pushed under her nose. She looked up in surprise.

The older woman shrugged. "A small luxury these days. Now eat. Yer too skinny as it is." The mention of her current weight hit a little too close to home, but she diligently accepted a biscuit to much on, and Porlyusica went about tidying up as she ate in silence.

"I don't think I can do this," she said then after a heavy lull, fingers tightening around the cup in her hand.

The old medic turned towards her, scowl firmly in place. "Not with that attitude you won't," she snapped. "You just gonna give up then? Throw in the towel without a fight?"

Levy bristled at the tone, but part of her – the part that so vividly remembered a lifeless little shape fit snugly into the crook of her arm – shied away at the mention of fighting. She had fought. She just didn't think she had another one in her.

Porlyusica sighed, and leaned back against the desk, arms crossed over her chest. "I know it's hard. It feels like yer never going to feel fine again. That yer just going from day to day because that's what yer supposed to do, because yer body hasn't caught up with yer mind yet, and doesn't know yer finished."

She looked up in surprise at that, and Porlyusica met her gaze squarely with her own. "I lost a child, too. Long time ago now," she said gruffly, but the words were laden. An old hurt, suddenly brought into the open. She nodded towards the other room, behind the closed door Levy knew Wendy was. "The kid was a blessing I wasn't prepared for. It doesn't make the pain go away, and she ain't replaced what I lost," she continued, "but she's been an ounce of good in a world that's gone to hell, and I'm glad fer it."

Levy traced the rim of the cup with a fingertip. "How did Wendy's mother die?" she asked, then winced, "If...if I may ask."

Porlyusica snorted. "You may, but I don't have ta answer." At Levy's questioning look, she sighed. "My sister ain't a topic I like discussing. The kid's doing alright, despite everythin', so let's just leave it at that, hmm?" Something passed over her face then – an expression Levy couldn't read. There was more there, definitely – an idiot could see that. But whatever it was, she wasn't going to talk about it. And knowing Porlyusica, as she did now after five years, there was very little that could make her choose to but herself.

"Alright," she replied, choosing not to push the subject any further, although she made a note to ask Cana about it. For all her sharp edges and harsh demeanour, the old doctor was kinder to her adopted daughter than to anyone else, to the point where Levy almost forgot Wendy was adopted. But no one ever spoke of her sister save Wendy herself, and then only with very few words.

It reminded her a little of how Gajeel spoke of his father, and it left her wondering if there wasn't perhaps more to it than what they let people think. From what Lucy had told her, Natsu's father had been old money before he'd died, a fact that very few were aware of, even now. But when asked about it, Natsu was open about it, which couldn't be said for Gajeel. But knowing her husband as well as she did, she'd long since chosen to let the matter go. There were more important things to think about than old family wounds.

Like their own family, which was now about to get a new addition.

She placed her hand over her stomach, wondering at the difference between the first time she'd been told she was pregnant, and now. Back then she'd been so excited she'd barely been able to sit still. Now she couldn't even make herself get off the examination table.

"Overthinkin' it ain't gonna make it any easier ta bear," Porlyusica cut in then, and Levy looked up to meet her gaze. The older woman regarded her seriously. "I'm not saying yer not gonna keep it in mind; there might be complications with this pregnancy as well." At Levy's panicked look, she cut in. "There might," she emphasised, "But there doesn't have to be. Ya need to take care of yerself, and come in for check-ups more often. Eat more, rest, and get that husband of yours to take care of the housework once in a while. Ya can do this," she said, "But yer gonna have ta want to."

Levy looked down into her empty cup, and the tea leaves a dark puddle at the bottom, seeming to swallow her up. It wasn't the right time for a child; they could barely put enough food on the table as it was, and with the place they were living in now...and the state of the city, the economy...

It was the worst time to have a child, but for the life of her, and despite the terror that had seized hold of her in a grip cold as death, a part of her – the part that remembered the little form fit snugly into the crook of her arm before he'd been taken away – was unable to regret it...the new little life she couldn't forsake just because she couldn't forgive herself for her loss. She didn't know how to make herself go through it again, knowing now what the outcome might well be, but she couldn't make herself not want to.

Fingers curling around the cup, she tore her gaze away from the sight of the tea-leaves. With a deep breath, she let herself calm down enough to think rationally. "I do want to do this."

Porlyusica nodded. "Atta girl." Pushing away from the desk, she went to take the cup from Levy to put away. "Now, you're not very far along, but as far as I can tell, yer doing well, and there's no cause for concern." She shot Levy a sharp look. "But if ya feel anything out of the ordinary, come see me right away."

Levy nodded, but the motion felt mechanical. "Yeah."

The doctor glared down at her. "And remind that husband of yours that you're going to need rest. And to eat better than yer doin' now." She turned towards the door, yelling into the kitchen, "Kid!"

A moment later, a dark head of hair appeared in the doorway with a grin. "Yes, ma'am!"

Porlyusica handed her a note she'd scribbled earlier, and nodded towards Levy. "Run out ta get these for me," she instructed. The dark haired girl glanced at the note, and then at Levy, eyes wide, no doubt recognizing some of the items on the list. Levy felt sick again, but Wendy didn't say anything, only offered a kind smile before she as gone.

"Kid'll keep quiet," Porlyusica said then, drawing her attention. "If ya want to keep it under wraps for now."

Levy nodded. "I think...that's for the best," she said, wringing her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. "Am...am I a bad person for hoping that if something does go wrong...it does so now, and not later?" She dropped her gaze to her lap. "I just...I don't think I'll get through it this time, if...if this one's..." she couldn't even bring herself to say it, the word that had haunted her for so long. Stillborn.

"You've been hurt. Yer scared. That don't make you a bad person. It makes ya human," Porlyusica said, as she set about clearing away the tea. "And ain't no need ta be ashamed of that."

Levy wiped at her eyes, releasing a shuddering breath. "How did you move on?" she asked then. "How did you go back to...to living?"

She knew it was bold – the woman never shared anything of this sort unless she took the initiative herself.

Porlyusica snorted as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Ya never really move on. Not entirely. The pain's still there, but it's a scar now, not an open wound. You gotta let it heal, however long it takes. But that don't mean yer not allowed ta live, girl. This new kid's comin' whether yer ready or not."

Levy clenched her hands in her lap. "It is, isn't it?" she said, almost to herself. It wasn't just something she could ignore, no matter how fresh the hurt still felt. She'd been a mother only for a moment, but she knew the feeling; the phantom pain of a limb she felt like she was missing. But she didn't have the right to excuse herself from the task that scared the life out of her just because she'd been hurt. Her son would always be her son, even if she had never gotten to know him. And now she had another child that needed her. Giving up wasn't really an option.

She drew a breath. "I'm going to do this," she announced then.

Porlyusica nodded. "This ain't just about you anymore. There's another life at stake here. If yer ever in doubt, remember that."

Levy nodded. She'd long been feeling like she wasn't in control of her own life – like she was dancing on someone else's strings like a puppet, being pulled with the tide without anything to hold on to. Losing her child had thrown everything into chaos, and now they were having another, bringing it into a world where they couldn't be sure they'd have a roof over their heads the following month. But the older woman had a point; it wasn't just about her, and that gave her something to cling to – a deep-rooted conviction in a sea of forever changing currents. And with the future being such an uncertainty, where a thousand things were out of her control, she needed something to believe in.

Because for now, having faith was the only thing she could do.

She was over halfway home when she realized she would have to break the news to Gajeel.

Stopping in her tracks, Levy steeled herself. For as well as she knew her husband, she had no inkling as to how he'd react to this piece of news. The first time had been easy – they'd been trying, and it had been expected. Now...now she had no idea. He'd taken their son's death hard; for all his bluster about not wanting a gaggle of children, she knew he'd been looking forward to it, the excitement visible in the crib he'd built himself, sitting alone in a nursery she hadn't set foot in since before the birth. And the carefully crafted trinkets and baubles in the bottom of the kitchen-drawer that she'd kept without his knowledge, after he'd thrown them out. Meant of a son that would never use them.

Her palms felt clammy, and she tightened her grip around the purse in her hands, determined not to let herself be intimidated by the grief that still clung to their home like a fog; that permeated every nook and cranny of the place. It clung to them, too – an unspoken sorrow between them that shouldn't rightfully be between two who'd been married less than five years.

Taking a deep breath, she resumed her walk down the street. The setting sun cast her shadow large across the cobblestones, and she focused her attention on the shifting of the light behind her as her feet took her down streets she knew by heart. It was odd thinking about how foreign her own city had been to her just a few years ago, where now she knew it like the back of her hand, the back streets as well as the high streets. Although with the current state of affairs, there wasn't much difference between the two. People took refuge where they could find it these days – she was lucky she still had a roof over her head.

Passing by a young mother with a small child on her arm, the soot smudges on her cheeks and the state of her dress evidence of life on the streets, Levy wondered idly what kind of world they were bringing their child into. Would that be her in a few years, sleeping where she could find space and watching her child play in the gutters? Would it have been her, now, if they hadn't lost their little boy?

The thought made her feel ill, and she picked up her pace, eager to get home under her own roof. She needed to breathe, and to think. Gajeel was supposed to be meeting with Makarov, so he probably wasn't home yet, which would give her some time to gather her wits and make a plan. Because if she allowed herself time to dwell on what was happening, she might just lose all the control she'd managed to gather before leaving Porlyusica's.

Squaring her shoulders, she fished out her key as she came around the corner to where their home lay, snug at the end of a back-street, with a sturdy door that creaked open with a familiar whine as she let herself inside. It was a far cry from what she'd once been used to, but the new world that was slowly rising out of the dirt hadn't left them with much, and so they'd taken what they'd been given. It was more than most in Magnolia, anyway. Makarov had taken care of his own the best he'd could, but times were hard even for the richest man in the city. The state of his once prestigious speakeasy was proof enough of that.

Locking the door behind her, she shrugged out of her coat and removed her hat, and she'd taken a full two steps into the living area when she became aware that she wasn't alone.

An instinct born of five years with a perpetually suspicious husband had her first thought go to the small gun in the drawer of the table where she'd just discarded her hat, but she hadn't gotten to take a single step towards it before a voice rooted her in her tracks.

"If you're thinking about going for the pea-shooter in the drawer, you can spare yourself the trouble."

With only one window and no lamps lit, the room was mostly shrouded in shadows, but she caught the glint from what she recognized as her own gun as the intruder held it up to catch the sliver of late afternoon light from outside. With the light at his back – for it was a man – she couldn't discern his features, other than that he was tall and dressed mostly in black.

"Well aren't you cute as a bug's ear," he spoke then, and she bristled at the description.

"Who are you?" she asked firmly, as she focused on keeping herself calm and her breath even. It wouldn't do her any good to panic now – stress and anxiety, she'd learned the hard way, was not good for the child. The thought crept up her spine like a shiver, and she had to fight to keep herself upright.

She caught sight of a familiar grin in the darkness, but the thought was gone as soon as it had appeared when he spoke, "An interested party. Nothing you should worry about."

Her brows furrowed. She'd had her fair share of being kept out of the loop, and was damn sick and tired of it. "Then what are you doing in my home?" she ground out. "If you'll so kindly explain that."

The stranger chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in the darkness. "Such backbone for such a little lady," he mused. "Colour me surprised."

Levy glared. "What–"

"Easy," the stranger cut her off. "Don't blow your wig. I'm not here to cause trouble." And she was damned if she didn't hear an actual trace of apology in that tone. But that didn't mean she was about to just let a stranger break into her home and get away with it.

"There will be trouble if you don't explain yourself," she snapped. "S I'd advise you to talk."

"You are aware that I am the one with the weapon here?" he asked, voice a low thrum of wry humour, but Levy refused to back down. If she did, and stopped to actually think about what she was doing, she would lose her nerve. And she'd rather have some semblance of authority than cower in the corner like a helpless doll. And if he'd truly been out to rob or kill them, he would have shot her by now.

The thought was oddly morbid for her, but it was what helped keep her calm, and so she latched onto it with whatever little strength she had. She'd been through enough of these kinds of scenarios to know when she was being genuinely threatened, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

It was hard to tell if he was impressed by her boldness, or just unwilling to argue further. "Would you believe me if I said I was simply looking out for your husband?"

She frowned. "Gajeel? The last time I checked, he didn't need anyone looking out for him." Her brows furrowed further. "Unless you know something I don't."

She caught the movement of a smirk through the dark. "Oh, I know a lot of things you don't, little one."

She glared. "I don't appreciate being patronized."

He chuckled. "As is more than evident," he retorted. "I can see why you caught Gajeel's eye."

"You're a friend of his then?" she asked, inching slightly towards the kitchen. If she kept him talking, maybe she could make a dash for a knife before he had a chance to catch her.

"Not quite. Like I said, I'm an interested party."

Another inch. "Yeah? Interested in what, exactly?"

He tilted his head, and she made note of the fact that he had long hair, gathered at the nape of his neck. And from what she could tell in the dark now that her eyes had adjusted somewhat, a sharp chin covered in a trimmed beard.

He flicked his eyes towards the kitchen, and she cursed inwardly. "I can tell what you're planning," he deadpanned. "For all your bluster your stealth leaves something to be desired," he mused. "But to answer your question, I'm interested in you."

She righted her spine, suddenly alert, but there was nothing leering about the remark. If anything, it was just statement of fact. "Somehow, I'm having a hard time believing that."

There was the grin again – a flash in the darkness, a ghost that tickled her mind but that she couldn't quite reach. "I don't blame you for it. The current state of this shitty town requires a healthy dose of distrust. But," he continued. "I'm not the one you need to worry about."

"And I'm just supposed to take the word of the man who broke into my home?"

He chuckled. "Ah, about that – you weren't supposed to be home yet," he pointed out.

She blinked. "And that makes a difference how? You still broke in!"

"To ensure that the place was safe," he cut in. "Tell me, little one, do you know what's going on in Magnolia as we speak?"

She glared at the use of the endearment – the last one to have thrown condescending names like that her way had been Ivan, and although the stranger before her wasn't making her skin crawl, it still irked her. "If you're talking about the state of the economy, I don't know how I could have possibly missed it," she ground out.

A quirk of the lips met her words. "Touché, but that was not what I was referring to. So let me ask you this – when was the last time your husband was in the ring? I've heard he's a bit of a name around these parts."

Levy frowned at the abrupt change in subject. "Not in the last month. Why?"

"Because things are about to become complicated. And I've a feeling your husband is going to find himself, oh, smack right in the middle of things." He toyed with the weapon in his hand. "Boxing has become a dangerous sport. More so than usual. If you've read this week's papers you will have noticed a few...incidents."

Levy thought back to the reported deaths, but had to confess she hadn't thought much about them. There hadn't been anything connecting them to the prize-fighting industry. They hadn't even revealed the identities yet, although from what the man before her was implying, they were boxers. "But Gajeel isn't even employed regularly," she said, worry suddenly crawling over her skin at his silent suggestion.

"Not yet," the stranger agreed. "But I've reason to believe he will, soon." His eyes flickered to her stomach. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Her hand flew to her belly instinctively, and she stared at the shadowed shape before her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and every instinct in her body told her to make a run for it. "How did you know?" she asked, voice wavering despite herself. How could he possibly know, when she'd only just found out herself? She wasn't even showing.

He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm an interested party. I have my sources in this town. It's partly why I stopped by," he said. "You'll have to be careful from here on out."

She shook her head. "I don't–" she stopped, swallowing down the fear that had lodged itself in the base of her throat. "Would you just tell me why? Why do I have to be careful? Why would Gajeel need looking after?"

The words had barely left her tongue when he suddenly moved, and she didn't have the chance to react before she felt a strong hand clamping down on her shoulder. "All in good time," he said. "But right now you should get some rest. You've got a brat to think about, after all."

"Hey! What–"

"Goodnight, little one."

A touch at the back of her neck, and she was gone.

"Shorty. Hey."

When she finally came to, she was on her back on the couch and her husband was looking down at her. She blinked. "Huh?"

Gajeel smirked, and something brushed against her memory at the sight, but it was gone before she was able to catch it. "Good nap?" he rumbled, a rare trace of humour in his voice that she hadn't heard in a long time.

Pushing herself up, Levy rubbed at her eyes, and grimaced at the trace of saliva on her chin. "Uh, yeah." What happened? "I–"

And then she remembered. The stranger in the living room – the cryptic words and the subtle warning; the revelation ("I hear congratulations are in order." ). The sudden pressure at the back of her neck.

She felt a hand against her forehead, and snapped out of her thoughts to see Gajeel's brow furrow. "Ya feelin' alright?"

And suddenly the words that had been about to tumble out of her mouth halted on her tongue. About the intruder in their home who'd knocked her out after telling her her husband was in danger, and revealing knowledge of something no one outside of herself and Porlyusica were aware of. She'd been about to tell him everything, when she suddenly stopped herself.

"I'm fine," she said instead, hands coming up to cradle his. She tried to smile, but it came out forced, and from the look on his face she wasn't fooling anyone.

He snorted. "Yeah, yer right as bloody rain. Didn't you go see the hag earlier?"

The concern – the one it had taken something as intimate as marriage to finally discern with ease but that was as clear now as the deep furrow between his brows – was touching, and she was again reminded of the words of the stranger.

And she didn't know if she'd even get that far in her explanation before he latched onto the words 'intruder in our home' and decided she needed round-the-clock protection. She'd been in that position before, and she wasn't about to land herself right back into the mess that had been. Not if she didn't absolutely have to. And with the news she was about to deliver, he would have enough to worry about.

And part of her wanted to find out who the stranger was for herself, without hiding behind her husband for once. After all, she had enough to go on for Juvia to do a sweep of the city's nooks and crannies. Something told her it wasn't just the run-of-the-mill criminal she was dealing with. And if he'd been telling the truth...

"Tell me what Makarov wanted, first."

Something dark passed over his face, but he sighed, and sank down onto the couch beside her. Running a hand through his hair, unconsciously tugging some strands loose from the cord at the nape of his neck, he stared straight across the small living area to the wall opposite, where his gloves hung on the wall gathering dust.

"The old man wants me back in the ring. Not just to fight, but to figure out what's going on in the industry. Find out who's behind the recent murders and the rigged matches that's gumming the works."

Levy remembered what the stranger had told her, about the deaths in the paper. "They were boxers?" she asked. "Those men they found? The one in the river?"

Gajeel nodded. "Something's lurking, and I ain't liking the smell of it." He looked at her then. "I had a talk with Lil, told him I'd do it. It'll pay, and we need that, but..." he met her gaze. "I don't have to. We've got enough to keep us going for now. It's not much, but between the two of us–"

"Gajeel," Levy cut him off, knowing she would have to say something now before she completely lost her nerve. Her stomach roiled at the thought, and at the words of the stranger that hovered at the back of her mind; an itch she couldn't quite reach.

"It's not just the two us." At his frown, she steeled herself. "I went to Porlyusica for a check-up because I thought I was sick. It turns out...I'm not. Or, not in the way I thought."

She watched as comprehension dawned on his face, along with the unmasked grief of someone who's known the loss of a child and lived to speak of it. And between the two, the fear she knew was mirrored on her own face; fear born of the knowledge of what havoc loss could wreck on a human heart.

"Gajeel, I'm...pregnant."

AN: The plot thickens and the noose tightens and all that lovely jazz that makes this story so interesting to write. I hope you're enjoying it so far!

cute as a bug's ear: very cute

blow your wig: become very excited

gumming the works: to cause something to run less smoothly