In Words

Freed pored over the spread of books, frustrated. This library had turned up surprisingly little. It irritated him sometimes how much knowledge was lost to time because nobody had recorded it: how many names and dates and events and ways of life were gone, never to be remembered.

Actually, it depressed him, but he tried not to think about it.

Fumie had been asking more questions lately. Were there lots of people with green hair? Were she and Freed related? Was her birth mother a mage? What happened to her?

That last had been asked in a quiet, scared voice one night after Freed had turned out the light. They'd spent a long time with Freed explaining that Fumie had done nothing wrong: had not caused her first family to abandon her.

"I don't know what happened to them, but I know it wasn't your fault. When you're young…you can't do things that bear the blame. So I can say with certainty: it wasn't your fault."

"But…what happened to them?" she'd asked. "Doesn't someone know?"

And so here he was.

Another hour turned up nothing but a reference to a book the library didn't have in its collection. With a sigh, Freed left, hoping Laxus had thought to make dinner.

Hungry Fumie was not pleasant Fumie.

"Hey, love," Freed beamed, entering first and getting first crack at a hug from Fumie.

"Welcome home!" she chimed, despite the fact that they were at the ladies' house. It was the sentiment that counted.

Laxus got exuberant second-dibs cuddles.

"How was your mission?" Lucy asked.

Instinctively, his hand went into his pocket to check on the contents.

"The usual," Freed said, grinning as Bickslow and Fumie had a tongue-waggling contest. "Went mostly unscathed, except for Laxus."

"It was just a conk on the head," Laxus protested, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine."

"I'm watching him for signs of a concussion," Freed said with a mock-conspiratorial look. "But with Laxus, it's hard to tell."

Lucy laughed.

As they trod home later, Ever and Fumie walked a little behind, heads together. Whatever they were saying was making Laxus grin.

"What are you plotting back there?" Bickslow asked.

"We are going to have a sleepover," Ever said.

Freed turned around. "Says who?"

"You promised," Fumie put in.

"Not tonight though." The words burst out of him without thought, startled. All Freed could think about was how they were going to tell her what they'd found.

"Of course not tonight, dufus." Ever swatted at him. "Later this week. She can't spend all her time with men."

"Yes I can," Fumie giggled.

"Who is going to paint your nails pretty colors?"

"Laxus does."

"But I bet he doesn't have as many colors as I do," Ever pressed.

This got Fumie considering.

"There isn't one way to be a woman, Ever," Freed said.

"Oh, I know. But she's not going to learn any ways from you. Not that she's not learning good things." Ever smiled at Fumie. "I heard you protected the new girl the other day when a fight broke out in the guild. Is that true?"

Fumie nodded.

"You learned that from your fathers. Hard to say which one more."

After a team dinner, Bickslow and Ever returned to their respective homes and Freed joined Fumie on the sofa to learn the new game she had created. In the background, he could hear Laxus cleaning up the kitchen, but his focus was on Fumie until there was a crash.

He and Fumie leapt up from the couch and careened in.

"Goddess, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Laxus winced. "Just clumsy. Dropped a cup. Don't step in the glass."

Freed hurriedly pulled Fumie back.

"Barefoot people should not be in here," he said.

He helped Laxus clean up, and Laxus abandoned chores in favor of perching on the couch watching their game. He looked as tired as Freed felt.

"I think that mission took more out of us than I realized," Freed said.

"Did you catch all the monsters?" Fumie interjected.

"Unfortunately they were humans, not monsters. Yes, we did."

She looked at Laxus. "Did you really get hit in the head?"

Laxus winced.

"He was trying to protect people," Freed said. "Just like you were at the guild the other day."

"I didn't get hurt," Fumie said.

"No, and I'm glad. But sometimes doing the right thing means you'll get hurt for it. That doesn't mean it isn't still the right thing."

Fumie looked sober at that.

Suddenly her gaze sharpened and she jerked. "Papa—!"

Laxus had slid sideways on the couch, eyes fluttering.

"Sorry," he muttered, brushing his forehead. "Sudden dizziness…"

"You do have a concussion." Freed was already standing over him, extending his hands. "Up. Come on. Fumie and I will get you to bed."

A little of Fumie's worry seemed to lessen as Freed gave her things to do—open the door, fetch water please—and when Laxus was lying down, Fumie perched at his side on the bed, petting his hand.

"Do you need quiet?" she whispered.

"I…hard to say," Laxus said.

"You need rest," Freed said, joining Fumie cross-legged at Laxus's side. "If you nap, I'm going to wake you in an hour to make sure you're still okay."

Laxus groaned, eyes closed. "That does not sound fun."

"Unfortunately, it's necessary. Do you need me to use runes?"

"Pretty sure I'll fall asleep without help." He yawned. "But you can stay here."

Freed smiled at this. He felt Fumie's eyes tracking between them.

"Laxus." Freed paused. "May I? Can you stay awake?"

"Yes." Laxus rolled up onto his side immediately. "Definitely. I want to be present for this."

"Fumie." Freed reached into a pocket and pulled out the papers he'd been checking on all day. "I finally got my hands on records from the area we found you. I checked a few other books, old newspapers… I found your birth family."

Her eyes widened as she looked from Freed to the paper. Trepidation wormed onto her face, alongside excitement.

"Fumie," Laxus said. His voice was tired, but he was watching her closely. "We want you to know that no matter what, we are your fathers and we love you."

Fumie nodded.

"I love you too," she murmured.

Putting an arm around her, Freed tucked her against his side.

"Do you want to see what I found? You don't have to."

"I want to see."

Nodding, he unfolded the papers, copies of pages and—the last sheet—a copy of an old painting. She hadn't noticed that one yet.

"Seven years ago in summer, this family," Freed pointed at the birth certificate, "had a daughter. They named her Fumie. There was an epidemic four years later," he said, voice slow and calm, "and both her parents died. She dropped out of any local records: nothing about who took her in or took care of her."

"I took care of myself," Fumie said in a small voice.

"Yes, you did. And I'm proud of you for doing that for so long, and also sad that you didn't have anyone there for you."

"I had magic," she said, voice getting even tinier.

Freed squeezed her.

"As did your parents. Both of them, and your grandmother. It was a small town, so not a lot of people learned magic, and the ones that did are noted.

"Your mother," he went on, "preferred using runes. I gather she did a lot of things like marking property lines and keeping sheep in the right pasture. She's mentioned in the local records a lot. Some…" He paused. "Some of her jutsu shiki might even still be there."

Her head shot up. "Really?"

"Possibly. We could go and see; it isn't far."

"So these…they were my parents." She touched the papers. "She had me as a baby."

"Yes."

Freed rubbed her back, letting her process. She seemed in awe, shocked, in a trance of unreality. He supposed that was normal.

He realized she still hadn't seen the last paper.

"I couldn't find any images of your parents. But I did find," he pulled out the picture, "an image of your grandmother."

There was a soft inhale as Fumie took the page from him. This was how Freed was certain they'd found Fumie's blood relatives, and not merely a family with a child of the same name.

"She looks…like me," Fume said as she looked up at him.

He brushed the hair from her forehead. "She does. Very much like you."

Sniffing, she held the paper closer, eyes darting as if she wanted to get every single detail just right.

Emotions flitted unmasked across her face. Laxus, for all his tiredness, reached out and touched her knee. She grabbed his hand.

"Papa," she said after a while, taking Freed's hand as well. "What were their names?"

At her request, Freed found where they were buried. And then, for a long time, Fumie did not want to go.

"They're not my real parents," she'd say, as if this excused their importance, but then she would cry and Freed and Laxus would hold her, accepting the lie as a form of self-protection for now.

Six months later, she asked if they could go.

It was close enough that they didn't need to take transit, hiking the kilometers through rolling hills. When Fumie grew tired, Laxus carried her on his shoulders, and her mood boomeranged between excitement at being on a trip—making up songs, telling silly jokes, pulling sly pranks with her magic—and soberness, staring ahead with her eyes reflecting the grey sky.

It was a small, unremarkable graveyard. The pillar over the family grave was weathered and worn, with cramped writing spelling out the names. Fumie's father had been buried with her mother's family, meaning, Freed told her, that they had gotten married.

"I'm certain," Laxus said, "that they love you and are proud."

Fumie nodded.

"And you're not related to them," she clarified with Freed.

"No. Although all humans are related at some point in the past."

She smiled a little.

There were no tears—no attempts to swallow them back, either. She stared at the grave for a long time. Then she waved, as if in farewell, and said, "Thank you for what you did. I was born. I have new papas now, and I love them—and I'm going to love them more and more. I hope you like that."

She touched it, then turned to Freed and Laxus.

"Can we go home now?"

"Yes," Laxus said, rubbing her back as she hugged first Freed and then him.

"I like having a home," she said. "And family."

"I do too," Freed said. "And I'm so glad I have you as a part of it."

A/N: I'm leaving this open-ended to add to if I want. ^^ I had an absolute blast writing parental Fraxus.