The Fairies' Tales

Bandages and Soldiers - Jerza (Jellal/Erza)

Trigger Warning for this chapter: descriptions of death, murder, blood, and pain. Read at your own risk.

Jellal didn't care to live for much longer. Now that his best friends were dead, what did he have to lose by dying? Ultear had been murdered by a German soldier with a bullet to the head, and Meredy had been killed back home because of all the bombings. Now, all he could look forward to was either going home or death.

Since his friends had died, his emotions had slowed to a lull. He cared little what he ate or drank or did, and everyone around him knew it too. He used to be one of the most empathetic soldiers. And now that everyone had died, he could care less about eating or spending time for himself. He didn't have to take care of himself if he was doomed to die anyway.

As the whir of the plane lifted them up into the air, Jellal breathed in his nervousness and adrenaline.

Today was June 6th, and they were about to go onto Normandy's shore.

"Get ready!" Cobra grunted, but Jellal heard his commanding officer's voice waver. He was afraid too. Afraid not of death, but where he would go after. He had killed so many... would the gates of heaven or the pit of hell be waiting for him afterwards?

As they neared the shore, many of the men seemed to be praying. For salvation, for their wives, for their families. Jellal scoffed. What good was it going to do when most of them were to die anyway?

"Three."

Jellal gritted his teeth and bent his knees, readying himself for the jump that would either bring him victorious or kill him.

"Two." Laxus' voice was heard over the loud propellor. The large man seemed to even quiver a bit, and another soldier laid a hand on the man's shoulder.

Jellal sighed. He was so damn ready to die.

"One."

Even so, prayer maybe wouldn't hurt this time. Who knows? Maybe he could pray for death.

Jellal didn't believe in God, but in these moments, maybe he was needed. He sent up a silent prayer for him to die as painfully as possible, for it was needed for someone who had committed as many sins as he.

"Go!"

Jellal took his leap out of the plane just after the person before him, and the wind hit him like a shock. He happened to look to his left and heard bullets being shot right next to him and braced for impact.

The person who jumped before him cried in agony, and it was deafening. He had heard the scream of a dying man so many times that he was numb to it, and the man soon was quieted. Jellal didn't dare to look back at the soldier's body.

Jellal gazed down as he fell, and for the first time in the longest he felt the slightest bit of hope. Maybe he would make it after all.

But that was a victory celebrated all too soon. Jellal's eye was drawn to someone's gun that fired a shot directly at him, and he squeezed his eyes shut right when he needed to. The bullet sailed right into the left side of his face, and Jellal wailed, covering his eye with a hard grip. He felt the thick liquid seeping onto his face, and Jellal could only hope for death.

The pain was all too much, and Jellal blacked out with a groan. The darkness swirled around him, and all he felt was suffering. Today, he would die.

And Jellal was happy for the first time in ages.

Unfortunately, Jellal awoke. Gauzy bandages covered his forehead and eyes, and he lifted a heavy arm to take it off. When he found that his arm was attached to an IV, he moved his other to rip it out. He wanted death as soon as possible.