Glory and Gore

War

"Here," Gajeel said, shutting the interrogation room door behind him. In his arms he held several plates, all layered with various types of delicious looking foods; beneath that, tucked into the crook of his arm, were pieces of clothing folded carefully. "Food and clothes."

Lucy felt instant relief when he walked through the door; it had been nearly half an hour since Salamander had left, and she had begun to fear that he'd lied to her about someone returning for her.

Lucy's stomach growled and she licked her lips, staring at the plates as Gajeel set them on the table. She ran her eyes over the contents, lips instantly turning into a small grin. Eggs, bacon, sausage, croissants, fruit—every piece of food she loved. After a few seconds, she glanced up at Gajeel, awaiting eagerly.

He placed the clothing on the far side of the table, smoothing out a wrinkle. He seemed confused that she was looking at him. "Well, go on then," He said. "Eat up. You're probably starving."

Lucy didn't need any further instruction; she tore into the food ravenously, grabbing with her fingers and stuffing things into her mouth. The moment it touched her lips, happiness flooded her veins; she proceeded to inhale the contents of the plates within two minutes.

Gajeel seemed surprised, and a little disgusted. "Okay—wow. Guess I should've fed you earlier."

Lucy licked her lips, letting out a heavy breath, patting her stomach. She felt better, now—more alive. Her bones still ached and her head still throbbed—although the embarrassment of knowing the origin of her wounds made her think about them less—but there was more energy thrumming throughout her veins.

"Thank you for the food," Lucy murmured. "Thank you."

He smiled. "Don't thank me—it was Natsu's idea."

Lucy's expression dropped, her face twisting into a small frown at his words. Yet again, Salamander was doing something kind for her. He'd saved her, spared her from a guaranteed death—and now, he'd opted to feed her and clothe her. Yet, he still insisted he was a monster.

But the memory of the bar slammed back into her brain. Watching him sink a knife into a man's heart, watching him easily take the life of at least thirty men—it was monstrous. He hadn't hesitated, hadn't flinched. He was a killer. He was evil. He was a monster.

But why was there such a disconnect? Why would he kill thirty without question, but hesitate over Lucy? Why was he sparing her? Why was he being so damn nice to her, for no apparent reason? Sure, he seemed to switch from nice to icy cold at the drop of the hat, but his actions so far had all been extremely telling—he was keeping her alive, for whatever reason.

Still, he was keeping her hostage. She supposed that was monstrous, as well. Especially since he hadn't explained why.

Lucy peered up at Gajeel. Despite his features, he had a kind face; he always had a sparkle of humor, of life, in his eyes. Lucy grit her teeth, nodding to herself. If Salamander wouldn't give her any answers...she'd just have to weed them out of Gajeel.

Lucy sighed. "Is everything his idea?"

Gajeel blinked. "Not always—but usually."

"Is it his idea to keep me hostage?" Lucy spoke, voice a bit shaky. Sure, she was confident in her journalism skills—she could get an answer out of most people. But this was still the brotherhood—the gang that would kill, torture, hurt just about anybody. It was a risky game.

Gajeel scoffed at her use of the word hostage, that striking grin washing across his features. "Aw, and here I thought we were hanging out, having a nice time." He paused, deciding to give her a real answer. "But yeah, I guess it was his idea. The rest of us—we were just going to kill you."