"My Starling!"

Hearing my mother's voice sent jolts of euphoria through me. Like a child, I frantically search around. I'm in the Heartfilia Estates' garden, near the grand water fountain. But the fountain is empty and the little angel holding the vase that would spurt near crystal pristine water, its grey paint is chipping and there's a cobweb in the mouth of the vase. The pool of the fountain is filled with dried leaves and patches of mud.

It wasn't just the fountain.

The garden wasn't a garden. Its vegetation, its floral inhabitants...all dead and nothing but weeds.

Still...

"Mom?"

That's strange...my voice is...

I look at my hands...my very...tiny hands.

"What?" My voice is still squeaky, youthful. "I'm a child?"

"Starling, where are you?" My mother calls again.

Where was she? My mother, where was she?

I see the mansion in the distance. Home! My heart flutters happily inside my chest and a laugh leaves my throat. I begin to run towards my home, my little legs carrying me across through the dead garden.

If Mom were anywhere, she'd be at our house!

"It'll be okay, Starling--you don't have to push yourself."

"Mom!" I yell, just barely seeing her in the distance, proudly standing in her salmon-colored gown with lace sleeves and layered skirts. I try to run harder, but I get nowhere closer to her, as if I was running in place. I grow frustrated I haven't gained even an inch.

I see her smile at me, but it falters into a teary-eyed frown.

"Mom!" I yell out again, reaching out for her.

Squelch!

Instead of solid ground, it was like I stepped in goo or something putty. I yelp as the substance grapples my legs, spreading up my body while I struggle against it. I cry out as it tugs me into the ground. I try to claw at the ground around me and at the air.

"Mom!" I scream out. "Mom, help me!"

I see her grab at her skirt and start to rush for me.

But she's too late.

I'm consumed by the darkness.

Dark turns into a white ceiling. A white ceiling I remember all too well. Panic swells in me and I try to move. My body -- my adult body -- is pinned to the cream-colored carpet.

Pain stings through my back, vibrating at the back of my head. I can't speak, my breath is shallow and frantic.

"You're mine!" Pink fills my vision.

No...

His hands are violent with my wrists, roughly holding them above my head. His eyes are cold and black.

"No!"

"This is mine." He keeps a hand gripping my wrists and slides his free down, physically grazing my chin, my collarbone, my sternum, my suddenly round stomach. His touches burn my skin through my clothes.

My body trembles under his touch, scared of him and what he would do. Again.

"You can't escape me. Not now. Not ever."

"Go to hell!" I wriggle around in desperation.

He only smirks leaning his face toward mine. I cry, squeezing my eyes shut and pray this nightmare is over with.

"Lucy..."

My name on his tongue felt like acid on my ears.

"Lucy!" He yells at me, suddenly shaking me.

And he yells again. And again.

"Lucy! Wake up!"

Instead of a white ceiling, I'm met with a tanned face with a scarred eye.

"Cobra?" My voice is hoarse and scratchy.

Not only am I laying on my side, Cobra is crouching in front of me, his hand on my shoulder. He looks like he woke up, his hair tussled and his one eye tired.

"You were having a nightmare, or something. I heard it. You were thrashing around too."

I was? I look away from him, embarrassed. It was a nightmare. I knew it was a nightmare, but why did my skin still feel hot? Why can I still feel his touches and hear his voice whispering into my ear? I shudder about it.

"Sorry." I mutter sheepishly and wipe my face dry. I hadn't realized I was crying, that anyone would when they're sleeping. "I guess I forgot to put my mind protection ring on after my bath."

"I ain't one to pry," Cobra begins with a frown, his eye narrowing at me. "You dreamed of him again, didn't you."

He wasn't asking. He didn't sound concerned. I don't know what he sounded like, but I feel protected when he's near. Dare I say, he sounded...protective.

"Keh! Don't flatter yourself," Cobra's cheeks redden just a little. "Anything happens to you, I'm sent back to the slammer."

"It's okay to care." I say softly after a moment and attempt to sit up. "We're stuck together for a while until the trial's up. So I guess...we'd all have a certain fondness of each other."

"Fondness? Blondie," Cobra screws up his nose. "You're such a woman."

"Excuse you?" I glare at him when I successfully lean against my headboard. "It's not a sin to care for others. It's compassionate, and it'll get you a lot further than being an asshole all the time."

Cobra falls silent and I wonder what he's thinking. Though hearing thoughts would be a terrible hassle, it'd be nice to know what people were thinking from time to time.

"I, er," He awkwardly begins and rubs the back of his neck gingerly. "I ain't good at sharing or caring."

"Oh, storytime?" I perk up and I pat the empty spot next to me.

He gives me this weird look. "What is this? A sleepover?"

"No," I return the look he gave me. "I'm just hoping to bond over our war wounds."

"War wounds?" He repeats. "Do you even have war wounds?"

"I have scars." I say with a small shrug.

"Right."

"So, are you getting up here or what?" I stare at him and then the empty spot.

He sighs in annoyance, finally obliging to my crazy request. My bed dips slightly under his weight. His body is close to the edge, but he doesn't seem to care much about that. He was probably too annoyed at me to notice it.

"Sorry."

Well, that was unexpected. He...apologized?

"For that time at the beach."

Oh. The memory floods into my mind. I'm angry about it anymore, I'm more disappointed and disheartened by it, more than anything. And I don't believe I ever got an apology from him before.

"I've done a lot of crimes, killed people, " Cobra says, he sounds restrained. "I never thought those dumbfucks from that guild did it. Don't know what the dumbass was spewing before, but it triggered me."

Wow. He's...opening up...to me?

"Don't get all excited, Blondie." He looks at me in exhaustion. "I'm just sayin' sorry for spillin' your secret."

"It wasn't a secret," I say grimly. "It was just trauma that I wasn't ready to tell other people about."

"I used to get them a lot, too." He says after a moment of silence.

I blink at him. "Used to get what?"

"The nightmares, " He replies, looking at his hands. "About the Tower of Heaven. About the abuse I endured, the torture. I'd wake up in a cold sweat only to realize I wasn't there anymore."

"You've overcome your fears," I say with a small smile. "It'll always be there, but it makes you stronger."

"Don't get all good on me, Blondie." Cobra actually cracks a small smile. It's small, but it's still a smile.

I inhale deeply and exhale sharply. "I thought...I if told my friends...or anyone...the dreams would stop, y-you know?" The emotion just washed over me and I can feel my eyes becoming hot. "A-and I know you heard my dreams and my thoughts. It's nothing compared the terror I feel when I'm inside those dreams and thoughts. I'm reliving my worst experience over and over. Every time I close my eyes...I'm back there."

"I get it." Cobra nods as he listens to me. "You don't have to tell me."

I shake myself from my trance. "Sorry, there's just so much on my mind."

"Yeah." The maroon-haired man lets out a breathy chuckle. "I can tell."

I frown at him. Hearing people's thoughts to hearing people's dreams. Amazing. I knew Cobra's magic was powerful, but how powerful?

"I'll put my ring on, " I twist toward my nightstand, where I thought I put Dorinbolt and Lahar's gift, but the shiny silver and emerald ring isn't there. "Crud. I think I forgot it in the bathroom."

"I can get it for you--"

"If you're okay with my thoughts not being locked down, then I'd rather not wear it, " I look at Cobra, almost desperate for him to be okay with it. "I don't like wearing jewelry to bed."

"It's fine. Your thoughts are like whispers, anyway." Cobra shrugs.

"Is it different for everyone? The loudness of their thoughts?" I ask.

"Yeah. I can't hear Emo Freak's thoughts, he can block me out whenever he wants. Your friends, those Slayers, they've got loud thoughts."

"Which one, Sting or Rogue?"

"Which one's the blond?"

"That's Sting, Cobra."

"Yeah, that jackass. I could hear him from across the country. He's so loud! His girlfriend is just loud. She worries constantly, she bugs the hell outta me."

"I'm sure she doesn't mean to." I defend her.

"It's whatever."

"If my thoughts are like whispers, then why aren't you sleep?" I ask him.

"I don't know." He answers. "I heard your nightmare. Saw his face and I woke up to check on you."

He saw Natsu's face, huh? I drop my eyes to my hands as I clasp them together. All of this could've been avoided if I fought harder. If only I fought harder...

"Oi." Cobra forces me out of my thoughts and I meet his violet eye. "Ain't none of that your fault. Stop thinking it is."

"Sorry, Cobra." I sniffle, trying avoid the tears.

"Erik."

I look at him, "What?"

"My real name is Erik." He licks his bottom lip, as if he was wary of confessing this to me.

"Erik." I test the name on my tongue. It felt foreign, but it felt nice. "That's a nice name. Erik."

"Thanks."

"It's very civilized." I hope lightly.

"Okay," He rolls his right shoulder. "You're lucky the Emo Freak didn't wake up, he woulda thrown ya out the window."

I shake my head. "I don't believe that. In any case, he'd act like a moody teenager "

Cobra...er, Erik relaxes his shoulders. He looked as tired as I felt. I didn't actually think he'd be considerate enough to check on me. I mean he and Midnight are still adjusting to their freedom. I don't expect them to jump with joy or immediately get into new lives.

"What was that?" Cobra-- I mean, Erik suddenly asks and I see his pointy elf-like ears twitch.

"What's what?"

"I heard... something..." He tilts his head, exposing his ears.

As he tries to hear the mystery sound, my baby is suddenly active and shifts around a little. I rub my bump as I continue to look at Co---Erik's thinking face.

He slowly turns to me...or my stomach.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I felt a little weird about his staring.

"I think I'm hearin' your kid." He says, incredulously.

"No!" I gasp in disbelief. "I don't even think its brain is developed enough!"

"Well, I'm hearin' it!" He shoots back.

"What're you hearing, exactly?" I eye him curiously, my heart jumping excitedly.

Erik closes his eye to try and to tune in on my baby's thoughts. Wow. That felt weird to say...I never imagined he'd hear an unborn baby!

"Ah...I can't understand it." I frown in disappointment at his words. "Whatever it said, I don't know."

"Have you ever heard a unborn baby that's still in the womb before?" I ask him, but he shakes his head.

"I've never had it happen before, then again I was never really around pregnant women." He waves me off.

"Right. Sorry..." I trail off, still a little buzzed he heard my baby.

.

.

"Any moment now..." Grimm focuses his magic, the moonlight guiding him to see the area from above, to see the Dragon Slayer running across shorter buildings and jumping over the spaces between them.

"This asshole is seriously onto us!" Taft grits his pointed teeth in frustration.

"Yes," Grimm murmurs. "He's quicker now that his dragon has taken over."

"Our Lady shoulda sealed off that part of him," Taft huffs. "It's pissing me off."

"Dragons aren't easily tamed."

"Who makes these fucking rules?!" Taft growls, kicking at the snow.

"Territorial, feral beasts, Taft." Grimm responds bluntly.

"Don't answer me! That was a rhetorical question!"

"Then why did you even ask? Are you going dumb in the head?" Grimm rolls his eyes, peering over his bulky shoulder to look at the green-haired man.

"Just get on with finding that stupid overgrown lizard! It's damn cold!" Taft, though under his cloak and had a shirt, shivers visibly.

"Yes. Winter is a cold season. Perhaps next time you'll do to remember," Grimm says, returning to his Lunar Search. "I've got him! He's stopped for now. Can't say for how long--"

"Great, let's get the fuck outta here!"

"Language!" Grimm glares at him.

"Whatever! Where's he at?"

Suddenly, within the light, there's a string of humming silvery magic. Or more specifically, a magic trail. Grimm and Taft hurry alongside the illuminating string.

"Your magic is very girly, Grimm." Taft snorts.

"My magic is more useful in stealth." Grimm grunts, displeased by the insult. "With the solstice approaching so quickly, we need stealth."

.

.

Having a perfect view of a dimly lit window on the fifth floor of the apartment building, a crouched figure glowers darkly at the two silhouettes on the bed. It was clear they merely were in conversation, but their closeness struck something primal inside him.

A growl rumbles with the now whistling wind. The concrete ledge crumbles under his fingers as he grips it. His hair ruffles in the wintery wind, snow flurrying all around him.

He bares his fangs, his face screwing up in fury.

He had found her.

At last.

And without another thought, he springs into action, flames wrapping around at his right fist. He roars into the night, his scream echoing off the buildings around.

"Fire Dragon Iron Fist!"