A/N: somehow these always end up much longer than i expect. ah, well. enjoy!

If she had to guess where she was, she would have said that the world had turned upside-down, and that she had fallen into the seventh circle of hell.

The flame licked at Levy's heels, scorching the worn material of her combat boots with forked tongues, commanding all of her attention and receiving none of it. There was a crackling in her ears, the cries of burning wood and warriors interspersed within the same persistent roar, and the name she screamed was consumed along with the rest of the world. Her breathes were shallow, sullied by the coils of smoke which threatened to suffocate her - they writhed within her lungs like a nest of frenzied snakes, and their poison circulated through her bloodstream with every inhalation. Another heatwave mercilessly rolled over her, assaulting her eyes with a sting that brought on a relentless stream of tears. She was alone, disoriented and afraid, and all the while the inferno raged on around her. There was no time to stall, no time to think or wait - to do so would mean death, and she was bound by oath to avoid its clutches by all means necessary.

They had fought for so long, and so hard - nobody could claim otherwise. The war had taken its toll on all of them. They did not know what sins they had committed to upset the gods so terribly, but there had been a price to pay, and pay for it, they did.

"GAJEEL!" Levy shouted again, louder than before. Her call would not reach him, not when the world and all its pawns worked against her so, but she had to keep on trying. She couldn't give up. If she did, then she would have to abandon all the hope she had left, that tiny shred of faith which she had stubbornly held on to for so long. And then she would be lost forever. "GAJEEL!"

She was careless. She had lost sight of him in the midst of battle, as her conscious slipped away and the ground, littered with the bodies of fallen friends and fallen enemies, all differences laid aside in death. She could vaguely recall an impression of blood and smoke, of orders yelled and battles lost. Amnesia had taken her under its wing, blurring her memories of the war, except for one thing - a promise they had made. I am the shield, and you are the sword. This was the strategy they had agreed upon, and this was how they must have fought, back to back, opposing the winged beasts which felled their comrades one after the other, over and over again. They hadn't batted an eye - they couldn't; there was no opportunity to do so. And then a high-pitched screech had echoed all around her, and something sharp collided with the back of her skull, and the flames had subsided for her altogether.

A dull throbbing in her head returned her to the present, to the ruins of the world she had used to know. She was alone, and she didn't know where she was. She didn't know where he was. And she was frightened.

"GAJEEL!"

Is he dead, too? The mere notion of it slammed into her chest like a ton of bricks. No! That wasn't - it couldn't - it absolutely was not true. Completely ridiculous. Out of the question. The sheer absurdity of the thought was reassuring (although it did nothing to lighten the load which compressed her ribcage). He wasn't dead - he wasn't. They had made a deal. He was the sword, and she was the shield, and they would live.

She took a step forward - her limbs were lead, and they weighed her down, shrieking in agony as she dragged them through the debris scattered all over the ground. The war had taken every single ounce of strength she had once had, taxing her body as she broke all of its limits, and now she was broken, too. Every inch of her craved surrender; lie down, give up, they urged her, but she refused to hear them. She had made a promise, and she intended to keep it. Traversing the altered landscape one lethargic step at a time, she meandered away from the blaze which she had awoken in, on to calmer pastures, where ashes drizzled from the sky and carpeted the earth she walked had this place once been? A farm? A home? It was hard to believe that just days before, an entire civilisation had existed upon these plains.

Thunk.

The tip of her boot struck something solid, and, in her weakened and unprepared state, she could just barely hold her arms out before she toppled over it. Beneath her palms she felt fabric, and firm muscle underneath that; risking a glance at the obstacle, her eyes roamed over ragged clothing, and she realised that she was lying on top of a person - a corpse?! Sudden strength came to her failing body, and with little effort she pushed herself off of the cadaver, shuffling backwards on her rear as far away as she possibly could. Managing a few feet, she dared to take another peek at the body. This time, she found her gaze drawn to its face, and with a gasp she realised the features belonged to the man she had been hunting all this time.

"GAJEEL!" his name slipped out of her lips in a startled croak, and a wildness took over her as she crawled back to him, scared to death of what she had just discovered. There were three, deep talon-shaped gashes in his shoulder, and a crudely-made bandage had been hastily wound around them (she recognised the fabric from the cuffs of his pants, one leg of which was significantly shorter than the other). He was battle-worn, covered with a fine layer of ash, but as she excitedly dusted him off she could feel the shallow breaths which rise and fall from his chest.

He was alive.

She battered his torso with feeble hits, incessant in her relentless thrashing of his abdomen. In a small voice, she called his name, repeating it over and over again in a desperate prayer to the gods who despised them. When he did not respond, her voice caught in her throat - what if he wasn't really there? What if this was no more than a hallucination, a cruel mockery of her wishes in the form of some sick delusion, a twisted trick which her mind had was playing on her?

"Oi," he coughed, his voice rough and cracking. "Quit…hitting me."

Her firsts hovered uncertainly above him - his eyes were open now, those crimson eyes she knew so well. Their light was faded, their colour dulled, but dear god, they were open. "Are you…real?" he asks suspiciously, reaching a trembling hand to her check. Tentatively, he ran his calloused fingers over the soot-smeared skin. "L-Levy…you're here?"

The muscles in her jaws twitched, and an unfamiliar feeling came over them as her lips twisted into a beaming smile; without warning, without regard for herself or for him, she bent over him and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as tightly as her aching arms would allow. "Thank god," she murmured into his hair, pressing her lips against the coarse, matted locks. "I was so worried…I almost thought…Ireally, really thought that maybe…" she choked on her words and stopped trying to talk, deciding to bury her nose into his hair instead.

"Do you..have water?" he wheezed. Immediately, she released him and pated her hips - there was nothing there, but a quick glance at his belt revealed a small leather pouch, beaten and bruised but for the most part, undamaged. Pulling out the stopper, she brought it to his lips and poured as much of the clear liquid into his mouth as he could take, and then quenched her own thirst with the rest of the contents.

"What happened?" she asks him as he pushes himself onto his elbows. He winces as he moves his shoulder, and her heart skips a beat.

"You were hit by some rubble," he said. "And you went down, just like that. It was small, but it got you in just the right spot. You weren't moving at all. So I got you out of there. I was going to stay with you - I wanted to, I really did, and then one of those fucking dragons came along and dragged me away." He gingerly rubbed the area beside his wound. "It dropped me here, and I couldn't breathe, and everything just went black. When I woke up, you were here. I don't know how, or why, but you're here."

"What happened to everyone else? We lost, didn't we?"

"I don't know. I didn't see. I couldn't - there was no fucking time, there was just fire, and you were bleeding…I had to get you out of there, Levy. I'm sorry, but I had to. I promised to be your sword, didn't I? I promised you we would live. I had to protect you, no matter what the cost."

"Oh, Gajeel," she murmured, her chest tightening, and she brought her mouth down to his. She could taste cinders upon his charred lips; their kisses were dry, rough and scratchy, the work of soft lips marred with flakes of peeling skin, but they didn't notice. They didn't care. They were an utter mess, a disaster of a pair, an unholy combination of sore and tired and bruises and blood, but in their imperfect existence she found the will to live, the will to survive. Nothing else mattered. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she declared between kisses, and her whispers seemed to invigorate him. His strength returned to him, and he straightened his back and hoisted her into his lap, securing his hands upon her hips and urgently pulling her closer. Her legs hooked around his waist, and she willingly folded herself into his embrace, allowing her fingers to roam all over him - over his chest, his neck, his cheeks, as though she was afraid he might suddenly disappear again. She cupped his face gently between her palms as they slowed, and when they pulled apart, chests heaving and lungs screaming, she remembered what it was like to feel whole again. Embers fluttered about his hair like falling stars, and in their dying glow his eyes burned brighter than ever, and a prayer echoed in her head, I love you, I love you, I love you.

"What now?" She drew back slightly, staring him dead in the eye. "What do we do from here?"

"I don't know," he confessed, wrapping his arms comfortingly around her. "Have you looked around? It doesn't look like there's anywhere we can go. Who knows what's left of the world?"

"We made a deal."

The ghost of a smile played upon his lips. "You're damn right we did. I'm the sword, and you're the shield, and we will live."

"That's all?"

"As long as I have you, it's all I need."