Did anyone else have those days (…or, in my current case, weeks…) when your mind doesn't want to focus on one thing? My other story has two possibly plot paths I could take and, while I am trying to determine which I should take (either fluffy or more plot-driven…if you are reading, insight would be appreciated) I thought it would be fun to play with another idea that came while I was singing Wrecking Ball at work (much to the pain of my co-workers' ears).

[DICLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING…]

Prologue: Secret Lives of Librarians

"—believe that goal Dragneel scored right before half-time?" Not waiting for an answer, Romeo Conbolt continued, eyes alight with hero adoration. "I mean I didn't realize a person's spine could contort like that. Are we going back to our earlier theory that he isn't completely human?" He couldn't help but pluck at the orange and blue jersey he wore, an homage to his favorite player and had been—much to the annoyance of his father, who had to wash it each night while Romeo was in the shower—wearing for a week straight since his favorite team, The Tails, entered the playoffs.

"If you want to talk not-human, what about Redfox? He has to be the best midfielder that Tails had in, at least, twenty years." Tono, another member of the high school's soccer team, drowned out the chiming of the diner's bell. Though, behind thick frames, his eyes lit up from emotions beyond the glee of fandom when he saw who had arrived. "Hey, L-squared!" He nearly stood at their booth to wave the two women over.

Romeo rolled his eyes, not sharing his friends desire to not-so-discreetly appreciate the way Lucy Heartfilia filled her halter. The blonde looked far from the standard idea of what a librarian should be, benefits of her father—along with owning half the town—being the main donator to the ancient build's renovations.

Meanwhile, her petite friend was near to the walking stereotype. Short—barely four-eleven…though she claimed to be five-one and no one had the heart to call her out on it—and delicately thin, Levy McGarden was just missing the cat-framed glasses to be the textbook definition. On first meeting, most assumed her to be timid and painfully-shy…and then they tried to cross her in her literary domain and realized the misconception of thinking that quiet and self-contained was the same as being a push-over.

For Romeo, this occured when he tried to swipe a sports magazine from the library stacks a few months back. Levy hadn't called his father about the attempted theft. No, rather, she took matters into her own hands and Romeo found himself stacking shelves for the better part of a Saturday afternoon. Missing a much anticipated game and not even thinking of ducking out, knowing that what would follow at his attempt at freedom would be far worse.

Levy might have the appearance of a doll…A doll that was possessed by a demon when taxed.

Shrinking down into his booth, Romeo took a long drag from his chocolate shake and hoped that the two would ignore Tono's incessant waves and calls. Wincing when, after exchanging looks, the two women approached. Kicking Tono when he tried to scoot over to make room.

Thankfully, neither sat. Instead, Levy lifted a brow and looked down the mere centimeters between where she stood and where the boys sat. "Yes, Tono?"

The question caught him off guard, not thinking through what to do if he succeeded in gaining their attention. His mind being too busy trying to decide if Lucy was wearing a bra. "I…I was wondering if you two caught last night's game."

Romeo kicked Tono's shins again, just from annoyance of his idiocy. "Of course they didn't watch the Tail's game." They probably didn't know who the team was, much less the intricacy of the sport. Neither of the librarians had the look of having any sports appreciation about them.

Expect, maybe, as cheerleaders. He could definitely imagine Lucy jumping about with pom-poms.

Hey, he might not puppy-adore her…but he was male and had eyes.

Lucy looked down at Levy, clearly—as predicated—not knowing what game was being discussed. Obviously as perplexed as Romeo about why her blue-haired friend's lips were curled in an emotion that no one would ever think to associate with the woman Romeo silently considered the 'Tiny Dictator.'

Something bordering on smug pride.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Levy shrugged. "If you ask me, they were off all night."

"How can you say that?!" Romeo couldn't stop himself from following Tono's earlier action of nearly leaping to his feet. Hands braced on the table top so he was now taller than the woman. "Dagneel—"

"Met his average of three goals per half, with a decent amount of assists and steals…but the Phantoms managed four goals. Four goals that shouldn't have happened. It should have been a clean shut-out. And, how many goals did Dragneel, Redfox, Fullbuster, and Fernandes allow Sol to catch?"

"They didn't allow him to do anything. Sol had a rare good night."

"No, the Tails knew that it was going to be fish-in-a-barrel kind of night and, with the remainder of the playoffs ahead of them would want to conserve their strength. Even the best of players undergo fatigue when they needlessly go all out for every game. My guess is that Makarov specifically ordered them to reign it in, which was why Dragneel and Redfox went out of their way to show off with the goals they did make…and why Dreyar committed so many penalties."

Both boy's mouth fell open while Lucy seemed to want to poke her friend to make sure what had just occurred was real, not some part of some surreal dream.

A bell ringing from the counter broke the confused tension mounting, causing Levy to give an innocent smile and hook arms with Lucy.

"Come on, Luce, our food is ready and we only have an hour for lunch."

The boys could only watch them walk away.

"Did that just happen?" Romeo motioned towards where Levy had been standing with the tip of his straw, flicking shake about the table's surface.

"I think…I think I might actually want Levy more than Lucy right now."

Romeo had to secretly agree.

"What was that about?" Lucy gasped out at Levy as they exited the diner, the bag containing their orders cradled in her arms.

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me. You just out fanboyed two high school jocks in their category of choice. I mean, Romeo is currently living in that jersey, and you just verbally bitch-slapped him into a stupor."

"I didn't bitch slap him. Tono asked a question, far be it—his eyes had been glued to your chest the entire time—but it was still a legitimate question, and I answered."

"Since when have you known anything about soccer?"

Levy shrugged, finger combing back loose waves of her jaw-length hair as the wind teased the locks about. "In college, I dated a guy who was really into the sport. Every so often, when nothing else is on, I pick-up a game."

"Last night was the season premiere of Secret Warriors."

"Really? It was?"

"Yes. We already talked about this, remember? You said you missed it because you had to do inventory at the shop."

Rubbing the back of her neck, Levy bit her bottom lip before releasing it with a faint 'plopping' sound. "Yep. That's right. Freed had the game playing from the office while I was in the back room. I forgot about Warriors for a second there…lack of sleep and all that. Downfall of working two jobs." The excuse was weak, the sheepish smile she offered said as much. But she was also aware that Lucy knew there was nothing she could do to gain the truth.

That was the thing about Levy. On the surface, she seemed to be nothing short of complete honesty…and there being so many sub layers of evasive actions to cover the mysterious circumstances of her life prior to stepping off the bus at the Magnolia stop nearly two years ago.

Most people didn't get close enough to realize this, assuming pre-Magnolia Levy was the exact same as the one who they saw on the day-to-day interactions.

In fact, if the residence of the picturesque—if a bit sleepy in manner—town were asked what they knew about their head librarian, the answers might go as follows:

Her name was Levy McGarden and she was in her twenties.

Her passion was solely directed towards the library. Most would say her lack of a romantic-lifestyle, despite the interest some men had shown—some non-readers making daily trips to the library to gain interaction—and many of which had tried to act on, was because she had already found the love of her life. Books. Anyone would be hard pressed to think of a time that she actually had a date. Not when she always declined, as politely as possible, when such a topic matter was addressed.

The only person who seemed to ponder Levy's 'before' for any significant stretch of time was Lucy. And time had taught her that pressing on certain matters would only cause Levy to lock-down, causing the blonde to develop alternate means to derive answers for the more personal matters of Levy's pre-life.

Which was why she waited several hours after lunch, when they were stocking the shelves before closing hours, to ease back onto personal grounds. "No one comes from nothing."

Reaching down to accept the book Lucy was holding up, Levy deadpanned, "You caught me; I'm actually a robot. My makers' originally purpose was a sex-bot, but then realized they lacked the funds to provide the fun bits. So…what they were left with was downloading an intense understanding of the Dewey Decimal System and a love for card catalogs into my hard-drive before calling it a day and dropping me off at a bus station with enough money to get here."

"That does explain why you are so against the computers and WiFi," Lucy wasn't deterred by how Levy side-stepped the topic. Not offended, if anything impresses, and enjoying the game they had developed. One that involved Lucy managing to needle the smallest of fragments of information from her friend at a time. Feeling nothing short of euphoric pride when she managed to do so.

"That…and I know that perverts come in here to use such as a means to watch porn. If I find one more man jerking-off in the stacks, I'll paint 'No Masturbating' onto all the walls."

Lucy laughed in a manner that some would call snorting in regards to a less attractive woman. "That would be more convincing if you didn't turn five different shades of red during that one sentence."

"Same for you." Levy got out before both of them fell into laughter, a dangerous act when she was perched at the top of one of the ladders that ran along the shelves.

Offering a hand to aid in Levy's climb down to the safety of the floor, the two still shaking from girlish giggles, Lucy accidentally knocked into the book-cart. Causing some contents to topple to the ground.

Choking on laughter on looking at one-another, they both ducked their heads and went to gather what had scattered across the floor.

One being a glossy fashion magazine that Lucy flipped through in mild interest.

"We're still on the clock." Levy reminded, standing with arms full and craning her neck to look around the cart and down at where Lucy was now sitting and more reading than brief skimming.

"Have you seen this?" Flipping the cover around, Lucy held up an article for the other librarian to analyze. It pertained to some model Levy never heard of, not being one for fashion and trends, but knew Lucy was familiar during her high-school dalliance with the modeling world. Still having many friends still actively working in the trade. "This is the girl I told you about, Jenny Realight," Lucy explained on realizing Levy had no idea of the significance of what she was looking at. "The one who sabotaged my friend Mirajane during a recent show. Mira told me that, when they passed each other on the walkway, Jenny caused Mira's top to fall off."

Levy was about to question how flimsy the top had to be to make such possible, when her mind actually began to take in the article's content matter.

Jenny Realight was engaged to the famous soccer success, the Tail's leading midfielder, Gajeel Redfox. Flipping the magazine over, she saw a picture of the two on the next page…

Jenny had all appearance of a model, tall and leggy with a chest that would put Lucy to shame. Lush hair of pale-gold left to tumble down her back and shoulders, giving the appearance that it was the only thing keeping her body covered. That was how slight the dress she wore, nude in color and practicing the art of minimalism in regards to fabric, appeared to be.

This goddess turned mortal was holding the hand of the rough-around-the-edges midfielder, who remained taller than Jenny—even though she wore dangerously-spiked heels—and had an unkempt looked about his person that clashed with her perfection.

Black hair a tangled mess of inky-black, even when tied back as it was, with his face decorated with an array of piercings that weren't league allowed…but he always played while wearing regardless. Ripped jeans were tucked into scuffed work-boots and the material of his simple white T-shirt strained against broad shoulders and pressed against the chiseled muscles of his torso.

Despite how the two represented very different ends of the social spectrum, Levy couldn't overlook the fact that they did appear good together. The perfect balance of opposites attracting.

Lucy was still talking, unaware that the words could be heard but Levy had no idea what their contents were…having checked out of the conversation long ago. Not knowing that Levy was using the remaining bits of her will to maintain the appearance of being calmly collected.

Not letting the inner turmoil that felt to be ripping apart her very soul.

Levy was drunk.

That much she knew from the sheer fact that, at some time during the evening, she had opened the shoebox carefully labeled:

IF YOU OPENED THIS, YOU ARE DRUNK…AND AN IDIOT.

She was sitting in the middle of her apartment's living-space, the largest of three rooms and shared the square-footage with the kitchen and a counter separating the areas into the illusion of the rental being larger than it actually was…not that it made much of a difference in regards to Levy's minute stature, with a bottle of tequila in one hand while the other routed about the box's contents.

Carefully pulling out photos, a life-time's worth of memories, she tried to prevent smudging them with finger prints as she laid them out in careful rows. All sharing the same topic matter. Same experiences and people she came in contact with during a specific span of years that she now felt completely detached from.

The girl in these photos, a high school senior in the oldest of the lot and freshly made college graduate in the newest, was a stranger to her…

Smiling in unbridled joy as she was carried on the back of a dark haired man sprinting down the beach.

Contently curled onto the lap of that said man, head tucked under his chin as his fingers played with the tips of her hair.

A stolen moment consisting of him bending down to capture her lips under the porch-light of a frat house. Signs of a party having raged surrounding them.

Her happily screaming as she was thrown into the deep end of a pool.

Painted the university colors and leaping into his arms in celebration at the end of nationals.

Each time she laid out a fresh photo, she took another drag from the bottle. A drinking game some would consider pointlessly boring, she considered it an act of blind masochism. And one drawing to an end, with the contents of her bottle dwindling with each passing moment.

There was another under the sink…Now the question was if her legs could handle the journey.

She was caught in the middle of this dilemma when there was a knock on her door, giving her no choice but to climb to her feet and—knees knocking the entire way and her feet continuously veering off course—carefully negotiated her way to the door.

"Yeah?"

"Levy, it's me." Lucy's voice drifted through the thick wood. "You forgot your purse at the library." Explaining why Levy had to get her landlord to dig out his set of keys. Not the first time such situations had occurred.

"Oh, right, thanks." It was harder than usual to turn the deadbolt and swing the door open. "Come on in." She added with a sloppy flourish when she succeeded in this small victory.

Lucy remained at the doorway, not sure if it was safe to enter. Large brown eyes looking about, noticed the state of disarray and Levy's intoxicated gait. "Are…Levy, are you drunk?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I found the tequila…if not, I would just be on my third pint of ice-cream." Waving her hand, Levy urged Lucy to come inside. "Which we can now crack open together."

"Um…alright then." Walking on the tips of her toes, trying not to disrupt the clusters of chaos occupying Levy's usually pristine apartment, Lucy was half-way to the counter—where Levy was fumbling with the lid of a pint of salted-caramel chunk—when she noticed the mosaic of chronologically organized photos. "What are these?"

"Photos," drunk-Levy liked to state the obvious and was currently trying to use a spoon as a means of lid-leverage.

Crouching down, Lucy carefully picked on at random. In it, a younger version of Levy was reading on a couch that a man was laying on. His head pillowed on her lap with his arms wrapped about her waist. "Hey…this looks a lot like that guy Jenny is engaged to. You know…the soccer player…"

Two things happened at once:

Lucy's mind snapped all the random pieces into place.

Levy instantly sobered up.

"Levy…?"

Leaning forward, Levy hit her forehead against the counter top. The spoon she was about to dig into the creamy dessert held into the air. A flag of surrender. "Fuck."

"Who?" Lucy was only allowed one question of one word between spoonful's of ice-cream.

Scrapping the bottom of her container, Levy hoped the headache she was suffering from was from the cold. It being too early for it to be a hang-over…though she was a lightweight. The bottle being less than a quarter full when she started her drinking. "His name is Gajeel Redfox."

"How?"

"It was all quite cliché. When I was a high school senior, I was a part of a tutoring program at the local university." Opening a fresh container, having at least a half a dozen stored away for emotional emergencies, Levy pulled a new spoon from a nearby drawer so not to mix the varying flavors. "Gajeel was the star of the variety soccer team and was in desperate need to up his GPA…or be kicked off the team. Ensuring the end of the university's winning streak."

"When?"

"We started dating a few months later." She paused before sighing in defeat, might as well confess to all while she could still blame it on the alcohol. "And we were married…kind of…during my junior year at university. By then he had already gone pro."

"How can you be 'kind of' married?"

"You broke the rule."

"Too bad."

Buying time by shoveling a massive spoonful of red velvet into her mouth, Levy rubbed at her temples at the fare of pain before swallowing and giving as quick and easy an answer as possible. "We never got any paperwork signed or…anything along those line. No ceremony…no technicality. But, at the time, we were as close to married as I thought he would ever be able. One night, he came home from practice—I was living with him at that time—and he nonchalantly clipped this tiny gold loop through the cartridge of my left ear." She absently felt the now bare space. "And whispered 'to have and to hold' to me while doing so."

"That is actually…well, it's rather romantic in its simplicity. What happened to…" She couldn't get herself to finish the question.

"Life. Basically. We were too young at the time, too different. After I graduated, stuff started happening that eventually pulled us apart."

She made it sound so nonchalant. So matter-of-fact. Sticking to the broad facts and ignoring the details that—in essence—held the truth of the matter. Allowing Lucy to make her own, misguided, conclusions to how their marriage ended.

Such as not including how, when it came to the ending, Levy had been the one who had left without a word.

Know there are errors hidden throughout this...please forgive me for not catching them.

This chapter is longer than I anticipated...wanted to get some background covered for you guys to get a feel for it. I hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want me to continue.