Glory and Gore

A Girl And A Gun

All she could feel was panic.

As she heard Igneel wish her luck, as Natsu wheeled her away from the Drache as fast as possible, as she felt his hands grip her shoulders with increasing agitation—panic. Her heart was hammering and her lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air in them and everything was kind of blurry, kind of spinning. He shoved her away from the Drache, from their angry faces; he pushed her through the foyer, past the guard, and into the empty hallway.

She turned to look at him, to look at Gajeel, the second they were free from the Drache's confines. Mostly, she wanted to see something that would relieve the fear in her chest. She wanted the sudden heaviness on her shoulders to be taken from her. She wanted to look to the boys, see confidence and laughter on their faces, and feel safe again.

But she didn't.

Gajeel avoided her eyes. He looked down at the floor, a strange unhappiness resting in his cheeks, in the way his mouth fell. He let out a sigh, and it wasn't a comforting sound. He knew what had just happened, understood the gravity of what Igneel had said. He was worried.

Natsu, however, was simply angry. Sure, maybe there was worry somewhere in his brain, somewhere far behind the anger—but Lucy couldn't see it. His face was messed up in a horrible, furious frown. His hands were shaking with rage. He looked at her, and all she could see was darkness.

He looked like he could kill someone. More importantly, he looked like he wanted to kill someone.

"Two days?" Lucy asked, but there was no strength in her words. Her voice was empty and breathy. "Two days for what?"

Natsu didn't respond; his jaw locked tight and his hands balled up into fists and he looked like he might kill something, maybe even her. He closed his eyes for a second, like he was trying to restrain himself, but it didn't work; he began to pace, his breath coming out in sharp exhales from his nose.

Lucy swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. His anger meant something.

Igneel had guaranteed her death to punish Natsu.

Gajeel's eyes flickered to the side, watching Natsu pace. He looked down to Lucy, responding when he realized Natsu wouldn't. "Two days until we strike." He paused, noticing the fear in her brown eyes. "Two days to teach you as much combat as possible."

Lucy blinked, the fear running through her body overwhelming. She felt tired—this was too much.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't learn to fight—she'd never been good at that kind of stuff. She'd failed gym class in high school and she couldn't run for more than fifteen seconds without being out of breath. She couldn't handle violence, couldn't handle fighting, couldn't handle this.

She certainly couldn't handle being there, on the front lines, in a war between the two most dangerous gangs in Fiore.

She wanted to cry, wanted to scream and fight and be angry—but there wasn't time. She didn't have time or energy to waste. Because she had two fucking days. There wasn't time to complain—she was far too practical for that.

Her eyes flickered down to the ground. She allowed herself one split second to think about her home, safe and warm, before she looked back up and nodded, accepting her fate.

Her brown eyes were wet and she was fighting back tears, but she still accepted her fate. She would fight in this war. She didn't have a choice. "Okay," She whispered. "What first?"

Natsu was still pacing, that horrifying expression on his face. But then he heard Lucy, heard her accept what was happening, heard her push the fear away and force bravery into her voice—and it shook the anger out of him. He paused, looking to the girl.