Erza's train arrived in Clover at four in the morning. It was too early to get a room and none of the shops would be open for another hour, not even the train station, which was unfortunate because she was starving. The last thing she ate was a bowl of cereal in the room Zeref kept her.

She looked left and right along the platform. There were a few other people that had boarded the train with her. Businessmen, mostly, working between Magnolia and Clover. Most looked at her twice and that was it; no one tried to approach her or tell her how a dame shouldn't be wandering around alone while the sun was still set.

She chose a direction at random and walked. Clover was smaller than Magnolia but not by much. Most of its industry was car factories or steel smelts where workers made railway lines. Huge plumes of grey smoke stained the lightening horizon and made the air seem thick in her lungs.

A man on a street corner called to her and tried to sell himself. She passed him by. A baker was opening up the windows of his shop but when Erza stuck her head in, he told her that nothing would be ready for another hour. She trekked on, tired and cranky now.

Twenty minutes had passed before Erza realized she was being followed. She slowed her gate and pretended to be awed by the tall buildings and then she purposefully turned her foot on the side and acted like she'd sprained her ankle. She hobbled to the cement wall of a garden and lowered herself to the ledge. She massaged her foot and hissed and looked all around. Her follower wasn't anywhere in sight.

"There's a problem with your lie. It's too early to be a lazy tourist," said a voice that chilled Erza to the bone. She dropped her foot and took out her gun and pointed it behind her.

Jellal lifted hands sheathed in leather gloves. "Don't shoot. I'm out of tricks."

"Jellal?"

"In the flesh."

She didn't lower her gun. He came around the garden and gripped its nose and slowly pointed it away. Once that was done, he pried it from her hands.

"The news said—"

"We shouldn't talk out here," he said. "Will you come with me?"

She didn't know if she could say no if she wanted to. He took her hand and helped her to her feet and brought her to a shiny red car.

Quaint and Jellal never went together in Erza's mind. He was boisterous and showy and insufferable. This cottage, though, this villa (there was his pompousness showing through) was small and charming and reachable only by a narrow dirt road.

Beyond the cottage roof's steep edge, the sun peeped over the horizon, a large red and swollen eye spying their every movement. A breeze plucked at the ends of Erza's hair. She let it out of the braid she'd obsessively weaved again and again on her train ride to smother some of the uncertainty she'd been feeling since she'd boarded. It didn't work completely. This was the most life-altering thing she'd ever done. She didn't report her mother to the police. She walked out of her home with nothing but a small duffle bag, a coat, and a pair of flatties with the intention of going anywhere, and then she was suddenly finding a man that she thought was dead. And now the only thing she was certain of was how uncertain everything was. She had no job, no family she could trust, no plan. She was just...

Her fingers sought the ends of her hair again. The braid was done up in a second, so tight that it hurt. That was good. Pain was good. It helped her think clearly.

Steps ahead, Jellal took a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door—it was painted red. Erza wasn't surprised, it seemed he needed to surround himself with the colour.

Inside, the cottage was much the same. The walls were cream-coloured drywall and on each was a painting, red in nature. Erza recognized Meredy's brushstrokes now, she'd seen them enough times. Like always, most of her paintings were abstract. Erza thought maybe if she tried hard, she could see the sunrise in one of them. The others? Maybe flowers, maybe blood, maybe trees in autumn bloom.

The cottage was open-concept, the living room and kitchen and dining room all one. The only places that were private were the bedroom at the very back of the cottage, its door cracked open to reveal a modest double bed made with a quilt, and the bathroom, just off the kitchen. From what Erza could see inside the small room, the faucets and bathtub were wrought iron, the light fixtures, too. It was a theme that extended out into the main room, the kitchen stove a large, propane monstrosity with wrought iron elements and an oven door large enough that if Erza really, really tried, she could probably climb inside.

Jellal held out his hands and spun a circle. "What do you think?"

"That you haven't been here for a long time," Erza quipped.

"I didn't have much time to clean, I didn't want to miss you coming off the train."

"How did you know that I'd get my ticket and come here?"

"Where else would you go?"

"Literally anywhere."

"Yes, I suppose, but this was the only direction you expressed an interest in coming," Jellal told her. He lifted the edge of a sheet off a green couch that was obviously old, judging by the style, but showing very little signs of ware. "I used to spend a lot of summers here when I was a boy."

He went to one of the windows next and opened the dusty curtain. Beyond was a small lake blue, blue, blue. It glimmered in dawn's first light, a touch of red on the flat water. Erza examined the sandy shores. She and Jellal had no one to share this place with, this cottage was the only one on the lake. She took in the thick grove of cedars that surrounded them on all sides, and then the huge, hulking hills made of granite behind them. She imagined the rock as sentinels, keeping the peace. This place was untouched. Pristine.

Jellal went to the bedroom and came back out with a duffle bag. Erza watched him crouch beside the couch and use a knife in his pocket to lift the floorboards. There was a large space beneath. Erza saw the cold black of fired metal and knew there were rifles down there. Dozens. The cottage was sitting on a store of them.

Jellal pulled his duffle bag close and unzipped it. The sound was startling, bouncing off the walls. Transfixed, Erza watched the green appear. Thousands of dollars inside that leather. Jellal took it all like he was taking nothing more valuable than a bucket of water and overturned it in the hollow beneath the cottage. Bills fluttered down and slipped out of sight.

Seeing the guns and the money jarred her in a way that allowed her thoughts to flow. "Where did all that come from?"

"My savings."

Erza remembered sitting on Jellal's bed while he paced with the phone in his hand, speaking to the bank. Had that only been days ago? She joked, she didn't know what else to do. "You walked into your bank and took out your savings after you were pronounced dead? That must have been a shock for the teller."

His smile was the same smile it always was, death and casual clothes hadn't given him any humility. "Is that what you think happened?"

It took her a few seconds to realize he wasn't kidding. She admitted then, "I don't know what happened."

"You've been very calm about it."

She dropped her eyes to where she'd linked her fingers together. "I've been…"

Jellal didn't pry the answer out of her. He pushed the board back down and stood, then took Erza's gun from his jacket pocket and put it on the narrow grey ash coffee table. Erza wanted to have it back, mostly because she didn't know if she liked Jellal being armed when she wasn't. He stepped away from the weapon and she felt a little more at ease. More so, watching him go into the kitchen and turn on the water. The lines hiccupped and exploded air out of the pipes, the cottage hadn't been used for so long. It smoothed out and Jellal pulled a kettle out of one of the many shoulder height cupboards and filled it. He turned on the stove and then, finally, addressed her again.

"Are you going to just stand there?" By the front door still, fingers still tangled, shoes still on like she was lost.

Erza breathed out and undid her coat, dropping it on the couch alongside Jellal's. Jellal held out his hand; she was reticent to go to him because she still didn't believe he was real and was afraid to have the illusion shattered. She couldn't just stand there, though, could she?

Despite her insecurities, he was tangible, hands warm, callouses scraping her skin just gently as they slid up her bare arms to her shoulders and back down again to land on her hips. A kiss was left on the edge of Erza's jaw. It turned into something open-mouthed and sweet with an edge of need. She shivered despite herself and wrapped her arms around Jellal's waist. He was slow and steady, grabbing her by the thighs and lifting her up, putting her behind on the counter and then returning to her neck like he didn't care she tasted like sweat and iron.

Erza felt him pressing against her leg and knew for certain that this wasn't the dream she'd been thinking it was. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him back an inch to see his face. "How are you here? The police said—the news—and your mother—"

Jellal's face pinched and his fingers cinched. "Madre."

"She was crying."

"I'm sure she was. She's learned to be quite the actress."

"I saw people bring out the bodies from Vesper. Yours was there."

Jellal held up his index finger and squinted. "No."

"What do you mean no? You—"

He sighed. "Watch."

His eyes closed and magic filled the air. His image shimmered and split and suddenly there were two of him. Both Jellal's opened their eyes and two of his mouths told her, "I can be in two different places at once. And I can make this Jellal appear as I want him to. Dead or alive. It was a trick I learned from my father when I was young, a Fernandez secret, you could call it. Aside from my mother, you're the only person that knows about it so…" He pressed his index finger against his lip in a shushing motion.

She didn't know whether to feel angry that he'd tricked her or glad that he had and that he was alive.

"I suspected that Zeref was going to try something underhanded so before we left, I made the illusion and that's who went into Vesper with you. While that was happening, I—the real me, that is—went to the bank and retrieved my money."

The bank manager that had been robbed and killed floated through Erza's mind. Laugh, cry, leave him there, the murderer? Erza didn't know. Jellal sensed her turmoil and put a kiss on her chin, further clouding her judgement.

She clenched her jaw and said firmly, "You used your magic to send a ghost into Vesper Avenue with me while the real you went across town where you robbed and murdered the manager of the Magnolia Bank."

"Did I say I killed him?"

"The news said—"

"That could have been anyone."

She stared at him and he stared back. Stubborn. "One day, the law will catch up with you, Jellal."

"We all get what we deserve, don't we?"

"Doesn't that make you a little bit scared?"

"No, it makes me wish that when the time comes, it's you that comes at me with a badge and cuffs." He smiled and winked.

She furrowed her brow. "Do you think because you're an alright lover that I won't?"

"If I was only an alright lover, my love, I doubt very much that you'd be sitting on my counter at the edge of the world."

"You're a passable lover that is not only a killer but also roped me into his schemes and then sent me into Vesper on my own without any real backup," Erza reaffirmed aloud so she could keep in the forefront of her mind what kind of man he was.

"This me can do everything the real me can," he said defensively. "And then some, actually. The real me can't die, can he?"

"You're despicable."

"I've missed your sharp tongue," he said with a healthy amount of passion and reabsorbed his projection. When he next spoke, he was much soberer. "When your mother finds out I'm alive, she's going to be unhappy, I'd wager. She wanted me very, very dead."

"I'm not speaking to my mother."

"Then I suppose my secret's safe with you."

"Are you worried your family will come here looking for you?"

He shook his head. "We're also no longer on speaking terms. I have to give my mother some credit, though. She took everything I had, business partners, allies that I thought were unshakable, all my money. Padre told me she hired your mother with the intent of first scaring off the competition before she came to Magnolia, which is why all of those attacks happened to all of the other families, and when I stood my ground, she turned her sights on those closest to me and sang songs in my ear like, 'this isn't the life I wanted for my Piccola Stella.'" He was all scorn.

"She wasn't wrong in thinking that. It's a hard life."

"Rewarding," Jellal said.

"You could have done better."

"But this is the family business, it's what I do best."

"Did," Erza corrected.

He let out his breath. "Yes. Did."

The way he said it made Erza think that Jellal would not stay on the backburner, grow old and die quietly in this little cottage. He wanted to rule. He'd want his kingdom back. He would strike back, eventually. "It would be brazen of you to walk back into Magnolia again when there's a price on your head."

"No one looks for a dead man," he quipped.

"You're going to get yourself killed for real. Or arrested."

"Will you be sad for me?"

"No," she lied.

Jellal smiled and kissed her; it deepened and soon, she was tasting his tongue and feeling him gather her up once again. The kettle on the stove was forgotten for the time being. "However conflicted you are, I'm glad you chose to come."

Erza cast her eyes toward the ceiling while Jellal kissed her throat. "Where does this end?"

"As the femme fatal, you should know it's nowhere good."

That shouldn't have given her a thrill but it did. She shouldn't like the way he grabbed at her but she did. She shouldn't be pliable when he pulled her off the counter and made her wrap her legs around his middle but she was.

Jellal flicked off the kettle on the way to the bedroom and dropped Erza on the bed without much care about the dust that puffed up. Erza wasn't thinking about it. She didn't want to think about anything. She didn't wait for Jellal to undress her, she wiggled out of her sweaty and stained shirt, pulling the sleeves off her arms. Jellal helped from there, taking off the belt that hugged her waist and then pulling the dark pants down over her hips.

Before doing anything else, he leaned over her and lifted her head up gently so he could fan her hair out on the white sheets. Then he stood straight again and took her all in from head to toe. Erza remained that way, legs together and slightly bent, lying to the side, arms up over her head, though she felt exposed. She couldn't exactly say what it was he was thinking about at that moment but she knew no one had ever looked at her that way before. It scared her and she liked it.

Jellal eventually moved. He got rid of his shirt and his jeans and climbed onto the bed. Lips brushed against Erza's. "Stay just like that."

"Okay."

Kisses were left on her collarbone and her breasts, her stomach and the top of her hip, the bottom, the place between her legs. Erza wanted to spread for him but when she tried, Jellal kept her where she was with his hand on her knee. The only way he allowed her to move was by taking the leg on top and pushing it up just a bit, spreading her that way. His teasing brought her to a place where she was oversensitive but he never let her get beyond that point. It was cruel. It was exactly the distraction she needed.

The sun had climbed a few inches in the sky when Erza decided she could take it no longer. She pushed him back and got to her knees where she kissed him with force and when it seemed he really, really liked it, when his hands were grabbing at her hips and her behind and her waist and her breasts, and he was going to bully her onto her back again, Erza pushed his hands aside and kissed him other places.

His neck tasted like cologne and was prickly, he needed to shave, his shoulder tasted like salt, his chest, too. He sighed for her and leaned back, palms planted on the bed. Erza got between his bent legs and teased him the way he'd teased her—meanly. She learned every edge of his abdominal muscles, every curve to the very sensitive places on his body, and the way they all tasted on the tip of her tongue. When she finally did decide to take him into her mouth, he looked uncomfortably hard.

Jellal took a handful of Erza's hair but let her work at her own pace. Slowly. She took enjoyment out of hearing the small sounds he made, the rushing of air when he breathed out when she found a spot he particularly liked, the relieved sigh when she'd put a little more pressure around him with her lips and her tongue.

It seemed he would die of mindlessness before Erza gave up her pursuit. She laid back then without his asking and Jellal fit inside her. He fanned her hair out again and then hooked one of Erza's legs over his arm and matched Erza's earlier pace.

Jellal spilled on her belly when he was through and put himself down on the bed next to her. The sun was much higher now. If Erza had to hazard a guess, she'd say it was mid-morning. Jellal fumbled beside the bed and got his pants. There was a package of cigarettes he worked out of the pocket. A lighter schwicked and smoke filled the air, white-grey, looping toward the ceiling.

"We can stay like this. Here, I mean." Jellal made large Os with the smoke he expelled.

"Not forever." Erza kept her eyes on the ceiling.

"For a while. I have connections in the west still, I think I'll start rebuilding there," Jellal said. "I'll be nice and close here in this cottage. As for you… I can give you the address to the Alvarez Constabulary. You can go in and stun them with your skills. You'll be the first female Constable twice. How lucky is that?"

She faced him. "If I'm hired, I'll be Constable Scarlet living with Alvarez's rising star criminal mastermind?" Erza asked sarcastically.

"When you're hired," he said with confidence. Another line of smoky O's joined the first. "And why not?"

She actually didn't have a good answer.

Fairy Tail's land had been subdivided and sold many times since Jellal bought it from Makarov. At this point, years later, all of it was unrecognizable, Magnolia had swelled up around it and changed the landscape. What had once been a tiered building on a large plot of land was now a conglomerate of things from low-income housing to industry several roads over. Factories that not-so-subtly made bullets for Jellal's guns or mills that made wood for the frames of houses Jellal had subsidiary companies build.

There was one building that stood out from the rest. Squat, it took up a small square of land and hadn't been opened in years. "It looks like shit."

"It looks like the kind of place no one will look for you in," Cana replied.

Laxus pursed his lips. One day, he wasn't going to slide beneath the radar. "Thanks, Cana." When he contacted her with a proposition—she bought this land under a pseudonym and told no one that it was for him—he wasn't sure she was going to agree.

"Just remember what we talked about. Any upcoming clean ups you have, they come to me."

"What makes you think I'm going to be so busy, huh?"

"Everyone's going to be busy, darlin'."

And she was just waiting for the heads to roll. "Yeah, you're my go-to." There wasn't anyone better in this city, anyway. Not that Laxus would willingly tell her that. She was already operating under the impression that she was better than everyone else.

"Well." Cana tossed the keys his way and took a step back toward the car she'd arrived in, where a girl with silvery hair waited in the front seat. "If that's everything."

Laxus caught the keys. "Can I ask you something?"

"Long as it isn't work-related. And if it is, you pay."

She was always looking for a way to turn a coin. "Why did you bring the girl, Cana?"

Cana grinned. "I thought maybe you'd be a little less inclined to shoot me if I had her as a witness."

"Ooo," he hissed. "Does Mini-Snow know you put such little value on her life?"

"Cut the crap, Laxus. If you kill me, you'll have to kill her, which I know's not likely to happen, given that you waited until the Constabulary's watch changed for your grand exit so you didn't have to kill Elfman. That says to me you have a little soft spot showing, one named Mira."

"That's a big assumption for you, Cana. I didn't know you were in the business of making them." Laxus' gun felt heavy in his shoulder holster. He eyed Cana's hands and how far they were away from her own weapon. And then there was Lisanna. She was facing him now, the window was down and who knew what she had hidden beneath the car's doorframe.

"Laxus, I don't make assumptions without decent information. But let's say you are really that cold. You're not going to shoot me because then you'll have to kill Gildarts and let's be honest, he'd never just lay down and take one to the chest. He would tear this city apart looking for you and once he found you…"

Laxus knew what waited at the end of that road. He'd had enough of blood for now. "Well, this has been pleasant. Thanks for your help."

"Don't mention it. And hey." All the venom dropped from her voice. "Sorry to hear about Makarov."

"He was dying. A bullet was the nicest thing I could have done for him."

"It's still shit. I know you loved that old man."

Laxus smiled tightly, lest he let any of his façade slip. "See you, Cana."

Cana shook herself. "See you."

She dropped into the car and rolled out. Laxus watched the taillights until she went over a hill and was seen no more. She was going to have to go, he decided, she knew too much. Eileen told him to get out of Magnolia and he hadn't listened. A slip of the tongue and Cana had the power to ruin everything for him. It wasn't a dynamic he enjoyed. Honestly, he wouldn't have involved her at all if it could have been helped but who else could he trust? Meredy was Ultear's and Ultear was Eileen's. Gajeel was dead. The Den was flourishing under Eileen's guiding hand. There wasn't anyone left in this forsaken city he thought had a sympathetic ear.

Laxus opened the door. It screeched on its hinges. He held off on the overhead lights, taking a flashlight out of his pocket. Once it was on, he could see the musty concrete floors he could now call home, littered with wood debris and tools. This was a sawmill before it was decommissioned for the bigger and better one that opened down the street. The air still held the pulpy scent of trees that had come here to meet their end. It smelled nice, reminded Laxus of the cottage Gramps used to have before. He breathed in deep, revelling in the memories of sitting on the deck with a bag of Cheetos in hand, watching a younger, more able-bodied Gramps chop through blocks and blocks of firewood with an axe that was so old and battered, the head looked like it was short of parting with the handle.

The old mill had minimal windows and the ones it did have were small and high, making it an easy spot to defend if need be. Perfect, in theory, if you weren't the guy that left the front door unlocked. Laxus turned when he heard it squeak, gun in hand and flashlight aimed high enough to blind the pair of startlingly blue eyes that looked back at him.

Mira squinted and looked away. "Hell."

Laxus lowered the flashlight's beam. "You're a long way from home, Miss Strauss." His heart thundered loudly but his voice was even.

"I could say the same about you."

"And that's where you'd be wrong." He spread his arms wide. "Welcome to Casa Dreyar."

She looked around skeptically. "This is where you're living?"

"Yes, and now that you know, I'm afraid you can never leave."

She pursed her lips and closed the door. "I've heard kidnapping is illegal."

"Who said anything about kidnapping?" Laxus returned. "It's easier just to find a place for you at the bottom of Monnet's."

"Along with Cana and Lisanna."

"That's right."

"You won't."

"Everyone keeps saying that today," Laxus grumbled.

"Did anyone else meet daringly with rogues to smuggle you a gun so you could shoot your way out of a terrible situation?"

Laxus tried not to think of the gun recoiling in his hand and his grandfather's small body falling back. "Sure."

Mira sashayed past him so she could lean against one of the old pillars in the centre of the room and plucked off her crisp white gloves. She didn't look like she belonged in a place like this in her little pink dress and white pillbox hat. She looked good, though, lifting her finger and beckoning him in closer. Laxus went to her, eager for some distraction.

"How did you find me here, huh?"

"I might have followed Lisanna," Mira said sheepishly.

"Really?"

"She's dating a freelance cleaner. I don't want her looking for a career down the same path."

"Some advice," Laxus told her. "If you snoop around on one of Gildarts' job sites, you'll be sunk, too."

"I can protect myself," Mira said, and pulled the handgrip of a pistol out of her pocket. "If I need to."

"You're crazy."

"I love my family." She released the gun so she could lay her palm against the centre of his chest over his heart and looked up at him with those big blues. "Thank you for not hurting Elfman."

"Yeah, well, don't mention it. My reputation's already on the rocks."

"What's so wrong with being a nice guy?" Mira asked.

"Nothing, if it's true."

Coldness slipped into her eyes. "You're right, you did kill three guards and another prisoner."

"Thank you. Some recognition."

Mira relieved herself of the little white clutch she'd arrived with, dropping it right there to the filthy floor. "And you're wanted by the police."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Dangerous character." She took off her coat, giving it the same treatment as her clutch.

"Through and through," Laxus said distractedly. Mira took the topmost button of her shirt and undid it. It was like a cascade effect after that. Laxus saw the top of her belly button well before he figured out his next words. "Do you have a little addiction to danger, Miss Strauss?"

"There are worse things."

Laxus didn't think her brother would agree.

Mira took Laxus' hands and put them on her exposed waist. Her skin was much warmer than the air; her kiss was searing. It was different than the ones she'd given him before. More desperate. "I have a blow-up mattress," Laxus admitted. She should have all the facts before she committed.

"I don't need a mattress, Mister Dreyar." Mira took his belt buckle and undid it. "They're for people in love."

"What an ugly word."

"Agreed," Mira said. "I only need you help me feel."

That he could do.

It was very, very early when Laxus opened his eyes and focused on something that didn't belong. A pair of shiny black shoes. He'd fallen asleep with his gun in his hand and it was still there. He lifted it and his eyes, dropping the hammer fluidly, and found a vaguely familiar face.

"Good morning, Mister Dreyar," Acnologia rasped.

"Aren't you supposed to be a dead man?"

"Aren't you supposed to be locked up for murder?"

"I got out of life in prison with my natural charm. What'd you do?"

"Faked my son's death and then mine and have been in hiding for the last day waiting for my opportunity," Acnologia said glibly.

"Uh huh. What'd you have to do to get Cana to sell me out?"

"She wasn't incredibly difficult to persuade."

He didn't believe that—Cana was water-tight when she wanted to be. Laxus didn't want to know what Acnologia did to make her talk. "Well, not dead dead man, what do you want?"

"I'm looking for an ally and I'd like it very much if that were you." Acnologia's mouth was set and there was a stubbornness to him. He wasn't joking.

"You know," Laxus mused. "Somehow, that's not the worst offer I've had this week."

Gray was still awake, laying on his back and watching the moon slip beneath the horizon when his phone started to ring. He almost dropped it when he reached for the bedside table. Through some uncoordinated grace, he was able to snatch it from its cradle and bring it to his ear. He only knocked over the tequila bottle on the way. Its cap was still on, though, so no foul.

"Yeah?" Did his voice sound slurred?

"You've caught a case, Fullbuster." Jura sounded spry for… Gray squinted at his bedside clock.

"Sir," It felt both strange and right to call him sir. "It's four-thirty."

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, but…" How did he explain he needed to sleep off the hangover and didn't have enough time as is?

"Good. We've got a body thrown off a roof in the industrial district."

"That's the Den's territory." A recent addition, with Jellal gone.

"Get over there and work it, everyone's watching us now."

No pressure. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Jura hung up. Gray took the receiver away from his ear and placed it on his chest. He could hear the dial tone beep-beep-beeping, telling him it was past time he hung up. His mind whirled. Was the body one of the members of the Den or was it one of their victims? Perhaps neither. Could be, it belonged to someone associated with the gang. He thought immediately of Lucy and felt all the tequila curdle in his stomach.

Ultear fumbled for the phone and put it back in its cradle. "Duty calls?" She didn't sound nearly as drunk or as sleepy as Gray did. Nothing kept her up at night, not her morals and certainly not their shared bed.

"Someone was dropped off one of the roofs in the industrial district."

"Tragic." Her sarcasm was heavy.

Gray snorted in disgust and started to untangle himself from the blankets. Ultear pulled him back in and, after a short struggle, left him with a kiss that wasn't nearly sweet enough.

"We taste like tequila."

She grinned. "I love your sweet talk." She kissed him again. And again. And again until Gray forgot that everything was fucked up and focused just on being drunk. Drunk and in bed with a shark. Ultear palmed him shamelessly and kissed him again for good measure. "I'll ask around, see if anyone knows anything."

"I guess that means you decided to take me up on my offer?"

"When I see fit," she said. "If there's something I know that I think you need to know… I'll pass along the message."

"Kind of you."

"You don't like me because I'm nice."

She was right, of course.

Finito. I had a huge AN for you all, but. Fuck that. Short and sweet.

For those that read

Thanks.

Those that withstood my temper tantrums.

Thanks.

Those that reviewed

Special thanks. You're actually heroes and the world is lucky to have you.