Note: Oh hey! So I actually didn't forget about this one! Ha!

X782

Mirajane's sorrow touched Erza in a deep and unexpected way. She couldn't imagine losing someone so close to her. Tears leaked from Mirajane's eyes throughout the service but she openly sobbed near the end. Erza let go of Jellal's hand and wrapped her arms around her rival. Mirajane's shoulders shook and her teardrops landed on Erza's neck.

"I'm sorry," Erza whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Mirajane breathed. She finally pulled back and brushed Erza's damp hair from her shoulder. Though they'd known each other for years, Erza thought there was something different in Mirajane's eyes. Something sad. Something empty. When the rain began to fall neither Elfman nor Mirajane reached for an umbrella.

Erza slid backwards onto Jellal's bed and curled her fingers around the edge of the mattress. The piping dug into her fingers but she didn't feel it. Lisanna's funeral had left her with a hard knot in her chest. She didn't have blood family – only her guild. And Jellal. Maybe it was selfish to put him above everyone else but the thought of a Jellal-shaped hole in her life stole the breath from her lungs.

"Hey." His voice startled her. Jellal knelt at her knees and took her hands in his. "Are you okay?"

"Lisanna is gone," she whispered. "I've never seen Mirajane so upset. It's like – it's like she lost a part of herself."

"I imagine that's very much how she feels. Their lives before Fairy Tail weren't easy."

"No." Erza's teeth worried her lip before she met his eyes. "Jellal, if something ever happened to you, I don't know what I would do."

"Nothing is going to happen to me." He shook his head and left a soft kiss on each one of her knuckles.

"You don't know that. What if –" Jellal's sigh cut her off.

"Erza, listen to me. You're right. I don't know what'll happen in the future but, like Mirajane, you're strong. You don't need me to survive."

"But I do." Erza's throat tightened and a tear slid down her cheek without permission. "I – I –" Jellal suddenly stood and pulled her into his chest.

"I wish you could see what I see when I look at you, Erza," he whispered into her hair. "You're strong and fierce but always ready to grant kindness to everyone except yourself. You can survive without me and have!"

"That was different."

"Was it?"

"We had letters and I always knew you'd come back." Erza's arms wrapped around his middle and she hid her face in his shirt. "Death isn't the same," she whispered.

"Good thing I'm not dying, then." Jellal's hands grasped her shoulders and slid up over her neck to her chin. He aimed her gaze upwards and smiled. "I will always have faith in you, Erza, even if at this moment you don't. Without me you'd be the same person you are now. Your spirit is indomitable."

"I'd be lonely." Jellal's smile finally faded.

"I'd be lonely without you, too, Erza." When he kissed her the familiar mess of butterflies in her stomach stirred. He'd kissed her hundreds of times and she'd been in his bed and under his body more nights than she had fingers but there was something about the first kiss of any given day that left her heart pounding and her toes curling.

"Stay with me," Jellal breathed. She wondered if he realized that he never truly had to ask.

Mystogan knew he'd been watching him so Jellal didn't bother to try and be subtle. Whether he liked it or not, Jellal was a veteran when it came to S-Class trials, despite not holding the title himself. When he'd asked Master Makarov about his rank within the guild, the old man had simply waved his hand and muttered something about superfluity.

Mystogan remained a puzzle in Jellal's head. He was gifted, sure, but his magic rubbed Jellal the wrong way – not because it was wrong but because it was different. One of the things he'd learned while under Brain's tutelage was a very keen sense of self awareness. Jellal understood his own magic inside and out. He could mull over different magics and have a general understanding fairly quickly. Not only did Mystogan's magical type elude him but his equipment raised eyebrows.

Jellal had seen holder-type magic before. Cana had an array of cards, and he'd witnessed celestial spirit summonings, as well. Bixlow had his own type of extraneous equipment, and there was a host of magical items floating around the world. But this? No, Mystogan's magic was an entirely different animal. His staves were unique and the magic he could sense in them was surprisingly strong. He used them with a dexterity that implied they'd been made especially for him – which was another oddity. Where had he acquired them? Who had the skill to construct such things? All of his questions churned away in Jellal's head.

The match that determined Mystogan's new rank wasn't against Jellal but he did manage a sneak peek. He'd been working on a life-like thought projection and, though the illusion was still a work in progress, used it to watch Mystogan go toe to toe with another mage. He moved quickly and impressively. Each staff empowered him with a variety of spells and circles. Mystogan seemed to draw his magical strength from the staves instead of the other way around. Despite his frustration over the unsolved puzzle, Jellal was impressed.

Once Mystogan claimed his victory, his eyes flit to the shadows where Jellal's thought projection hid. He dissolved the projection immediately.

Tenrou Island consisted of highly irregular landscape and, once a person ventured beyond the shores, was actually much larger than it appeared. Despite the strangeness, Mystogan wasn't hard to find. He stood out against the rocks with his billowing capes and collection of staves. Jellal stood some feet away with his hands in his pockets. He could remember a very different sunset on a nearby beach two years previous.

"Well?" the muffled voice of Mystogan asked. "I passed the Master's inspection. Have I passed yours, as well?"

"Mine is significantly less important," Jellal said with a low laugh. "Unimportant, actually."

"You're curious about me."

"I am. Your magic and the way you employ it is definitely outside of what I'd call typical."

"And you would know?" Mystogan still hadn't turned to face him. He stayed crouched on the rock pilings, gazing out at the ocean.

"I've seen a lot of weird stuff in this world. My definition of typical isn't a standard by any stretch but I do have a talent for understanding magic and mastering it."

"Are you bragging on yourself?"

"Not at all. It's a fact."

Mystogan's silence wasn't one of denial – it was more thoughtful. "What do you want to know?"

"Your staves. How did you acquire them? Were they made specifically for you?"

"Not specifically for me, no, only to my specifications."

"Master craftsmen of these items are hard to find in Fiore," Jellal hedged. He wondered how much Mystogan would divulge.

"Yes, they are."

"Is Fiore your home country?" At that Mystogan stood and turned to face Jellal.

"No," he said, his words almost carried away by the wind. "But I don't think yours is either."

"How do you know that?" Jellal whispered.

"It's just a hunch." Mystogan shrugged and headed back in the direction of the path Jellal had used to find him. "Don't let it get to you, Saint Fernandes," he muttered. "I'm of no consequence. We all have our burdens. I am not yours."

The space of ocean between Tenrou Island and the mainland stretched endlessly. Jellal had stopped trying to map it's location after his first visit. Not even a breeze could be felt as they disembarked. Jellal stood on the bow of the ship and tried to catch the freshest air when he heard Master Makarov's short steps behind him.

"You're uneasy," Makarov said, digging in his pockets for tobacco – or whatever it was he stuffed into his pipe.

"Only curious." Jellal grinned down at his guild master. "I'm always curious."

"Some things are better left alone."

"I'm trying to let it go."

"But?"

Jellal sighed. "I asked Mystogan if his home was Fiore and he said no."

"Fairy Tail has a handful of members who have emigrated."

"He also said he doesn't believe Fiore to be my home country either." Jellal waited for a reply but caught the scent of smoke instead.

"Well?" Makarov asked. "Is it?"

"I don't know," Jellal murmured. "There's a lot of things I can't remember. I was a slave for a lot longer than Erza and the others. It's... it's blurry."

"You were very young," Makarov offered quietly. "No one faults you for not remembering."

"And this mark on my face." Jellal huffed and ran a hand through his hair. He wished the wind would pick up soon. "I don't know what it means."

"And you think Mystogan does?"

"I –" Jellal paused. Did he? "No," he sighed. "No, I don't."

"It's hard to solve a riddle when you haven't heard all the pieces. Maybe give it a rest for now." The smell of Makarov's tobacco dissipated and Jellal's eyes fell to his feet.

"Maybe," he whispered.

The street lamps were just beginning to flicker on when Erza left Fairy Hills behind. Even though she wasn't a little girl anymore she still felt the pang of past reprimands when she slipped out the front door. She didn't need to sneak – everyone knew her destination.

Erza didn't rush. She enjoyed the evening air and the twinkle of lights against the purple sky of twilight. Ever romantic at heart, she loved it. When Erza crossed the river, she stopped and admired the view of the water. The waves lapped at the pilings and even though she knew the river served an industrial purpose, she still thought it beautiful. As she reached the crest of the hill, the roof of Jellal's apartment building came into view. For a brief moment her excitement peaked, but then quickly tanked at the sight of the small crowd near the entrance.

Simon, along with Sho, mingled with a few residents she'd only ever encountered in passing. Erza considered circling around the building to a service entrance but Sho saw her before she could bolt.

"Erza! What are you doing here this late?" He smiled but Erza couldn't mask her irritation. She felt like Sho should know by now why she'd bother to venture all the way across town at such an hour.

"I'm here to see Jellal," she answered quietly, avoiding Simon's eyes. This avoidance didn't stop him from speaking to her.

"If you're curious, Mystogan passed his trial. You have another S-Class on the second floor of the guild now."

"I'm not surprised," Erza said inching toward the door. "Mystogan is a capable mage."

"Kinda weird, though," Sho supplied.

"Masks don't make a person weird," Simon muttered. "Secrets do."

Erza bristled. She didn't care for Simon's tone or implication. She and Jellal didn't have secrets it just wasn't any of Simon's business what happened in private.

"Mystogan's secrets are his own. Just like everyone else's," she tacked on quickly. Simon's jealousy over her relationship with Jellal was never far beneath the surface. He hadn't ever crossed a line or even touched her in a way she didn't like – hewouldn't've had all his fingers if he'd tried – but his gaze was unsettling. She felt it on her back right up until the door of the building shut behind her.

Erza let herself into Jellal's apartment without knocking. Even though the only thing keeping her from Simon's prying eyes was a series of walls, she felt better – safer. The front room was lit by a single lamp and a trail of clothing led to the bathroom. Curls of steam escaped between the bathroom door and frame. Erza left Jellal to his bath and put on a kettle of water for tea.

Jellal wasn't a total scatterbrain, even though he did forget simple things like new socks and belts from time to time, but his collection of tea was entirely Erza's doing. She wasn't much to speak of in the kitchen but she did possess the ability to make a decent pot of tea. The kettle sang after a few moments and Erza spooned the dry leaves into a bag. When Jellal joined her she was so engrossed in watching the tea steep, she startled. His hand closed around her shoulder and Erza spun around to find him only half dressed and smiling.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, blotting his hair dry a final time before tossing the damp towel aside. Erza frowned at the sight of his untidiness but didn't move to pick up the towel. She wasn't his mother or maid.

"No, I was just lost in thought."

"What were you thinking about?" Jellal's hands slid over her shoulders and Erza stepped into his chest. He smelled of soap and his skin was hot against her cheek.

"Nothing important. I heard Mystogan passed his trial."

"He did."

"Did you watch?" Erza grinned when a laugh resonated in his chest.

"How did you know I was going to do that?"

"Because you're predictable, Jellal." Erza sighed and turned back to the tea. "He's a mystery and you love figuring things out." She could feel him curl a strand of her hair around one finger thoughtfully. He did that often and Erza wondered if he even realized exactly how often it happened.

"He's a powerful mage," Jellal began slowly. "But he runs opposite of what I'm used to."

"Meaning?"

"He draws power from his staves instead of the other way around." Jellal was muttering now. Erza didn't need to turn around to know the expression on his face would be furrowed in thought. If she were to ask him suddenly what color his pants were, he would blink in confusion and need to check before answering. Jellal lapsed in on himself almost as often as he reached for her hair. Erza decided to change the subject before he could get lost.

"Was the island hot?" she asked, turning and pressing a teacup into the hand not occupied with her hair. Jellal detangled himself and smiled again.

"It's always hot. I'm glad to be home. Did you miss me?" Erza watched in irritated amazement when he swallowed the hot tea without even tasting it and set aside his cup.

"No, actually. That's why I'm here." Erza sipped her tea the way it was meant to be sipped. "I wanted to let you know that I've met someone else. We're eloping."

"Is that so?" Jellal plucked her cup from her hands and set it aside, as well.

"I was trying to enjoy that," she said, biting her bottom lip playfully.

"You hate green tea," he teased, inching his fingers around her shoulders and into her hair again.

"That wasn't green tea, Jellal."

"No? I didn't notice."

"I don't imagine you did. Scalding your tastebuds is a great way to never taste anything again." Erza stepped back when he stepped forward but hit the wall after only three breaths. Jellal's grin set her heart racing and when he kissed her, she forgot about the tea. He'd been gone for five days and she'd missed him. Of course, they'd been separated before – and for longer periods – but since Lisanna's death, Erza had become increasingly aware of exactly how attached to Jellal she was. She wished it bothered her more than it did.

He took her on the kitchen counter, with the tips of her fingers brushing the hot edge of the teapot. His grip on her hips was bruising but Erza wanted his fingerprints on her skin.

"Peach," he breathed against her lips after they'd finished. Erza wrapped her arms around his neck and slid off the counter.

"What?"

"It was peach tea." Jellal smiled and Erza kissed the corner of his mouth. He helped her readjust her dress and they finished the pot of tea on his sofa. She wasn't actually interested in the details of Mystogan's trial but the way Jellal's face lit up when he talked about the things that interested him was a priceless thing.

Later, in his bed she slid over his hips and moved much slower. The ache in her heart felt ridiculous because he was here. She could feel him beneath her but those reassurances didn't ease the need she felt to stitch him to her side for always.

X783

He thought he should've been more excited than he was but the summons sat untouched on Master Makarov's desk as if it had been poisoned. Makarov's eyes were trained on Jellal's frown and he could feel Erza tensing at his side.

"You can say no, Jellal, but I don't know that it's advisable," he said over his steepled fingers. "The Magic Council usually gets what they want and by any means necessary."

"Why do they even want me?"

"Because you're a prodigy," Makarov said with a sigh. "I thought you knew that."

"But I have nothing to offer." Erza's hand slid down his arm and her fingers laced with his reassuringly.

"So, you aren't a Wizard Saint and a master of however many types of magic by now?" the old man muttered, pulling out a desk drawer and rooting through it.

"I don't know anything about politics or civics or –" Makarov cut Jellal off with a derisive snort.

"Civics? If you think the Magic Council gives a rat's ass about civics, you haven't been paying attention." He chirped happily when he found his bag of tobacco and tossed it to the surface of the desk. "You think about it, Jellal, and get back to me. I won't make you correspond with them directly." He leaned back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. "I'm still your guild master and I won't let them railroad you."

"Thanks," Jellal muttered, turning to leave.

"Don't make them wait too long, though," Makarov said as Erza opened the office door. "They don't like that."

"Right." Jellal tugged on Erza's hand and she followed him through the hallway and out of the guildhall.

Jellal's fingers dragged gently through Erza's hair. She didn't stir beside him but he couldn't sleep. The summons from the Magic Council wouldn't leave him alone. They wanted him to sit amongst their ranks but he couldn't figure out why. Surely there were more capable people to fill any open spots! Why him?

His mind wandered back to Era. He remembered the strange, rushing magic of the Saints' temple. He remembered the word that still meant nothing to him – of course, he hadn't actually bothered to follow up on that research, had he? Occludere. The word felt familiar but the meaning eluded him.

He also remembered the headaches caused by Lady Ultear's mind probe. Jellal didn't think he wanted to be subjected to her presence as often as a Council seat might require. What did she want from him and why did her probe into his inner-most spaces feel so vaguely familiar? Jellal closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. All these strange things aside, he knew he didn't have much of a choice. As much as he hated the idea, he'd have to sit on the Magic Council. Maybe that thought projection of his would come in handier than he'd anticipated.

Jellal rolled to his side and hid his face in the rumpled strands of Erza's hair at her neck. His arm draped over her hips and she roused only just enough to tuck herself backwards into his chest. It would be the endless stretch of nights like these that he'd miss the most.