The sun had sunk below the horizon hours ago and the sky was black. Loke looked at the Mansion. Music pulsed out of its chipped brickwork. Only his heart sounded louder in his ears. The place was busy; men and women poured out of the doors and loitered on the streets, some young and fresh-faced, some old, with as many wrinkles as there were stars in the sky.

Loke felt Lucy's eyes upon him as he approached the Mansion's beer-stained front door. Her hand brushed his, not really grasping at his fingers, but just kissing them in the barest of touches. Desperate to avoid her and the spark of victory in her eye after his earlier slipup, he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and smiled wolfishly at a dark-haired girl with a cigarette in her mouth. She'd be cuter if she wasn't smoking, but with his own cigarettes jarring around in his pocket, what the hell could he say? The mission was accomplished, anyway. Lucy's chipper and triumphant I'm-happy-because-you're-not-being-so-cold smile dimmed.

Good. Sort of.

Gray grabbed the door and yanked it open, allowing voices and music to seep into the nighttime. Lucy slipped through first in a swirl of short pink and black material and damaged golden curls. Gray grabbed Loke's well-worn green jacket and pulled him up short before he could follow on her heels like a lost dog.

"Hey, don't get wrecked, alright?" He said it inches from Loke's ear so he could hear over the music. "Not like last night."

"Yeah," he said half-heartedly. "I know." There wasn't any time lately he particularly wanted to be sober, but the need to be lost was even stronger tonight. Too scared, too nervous. Too infatuated. Too anxious by half.

Gray was satisfied with his answer and released him and he continued inside. Out of the cool early spring air, the smell of alcohol and humans enveloped him. It was kind of a disgusting smell, but one that he relished for no other reason than usually when he smelled it, he was well on his way to getting drunk. Drunk meant he was brave.

He shoved his hands through his hair and made his way to the bar. The bartender from last night was working again. She saw him and smiled and pulled out a shot glass, filling it with Karn Barrel whisky, last night's drink of choice, without being asked.

He leaned his elbows on the counter, overlooking Lucy a few stools away, and grinned. "How d'you know that's what I want?"

"It's what you were drinking last night or did you forget?" the bartender asked.

"That was last night." The smile on his face was fake, fake, fake flirty. Lucy believed it, though; he could feel her eyes digging holes in his skin.

"Men like you don't vary too much," the bartender informed him. "Looking to get drunk and whisky drunk is the deepest."

Loke didn't like being marginalized, even if it were true. He accepted the drink wordlessly and turned. Gray was right over his shoulder.

"Same for me," he said.

The woman poured him a shot and handed it off. Gray drank it back like it didn't taste like shit, and dropped his glass for another. Loke raised his brows; he'd expected him to wander some. "Going to lurk around here all night?"

"Lucy would be better company," Gray admitted, "But I don't want to scare anyone off."

Loke didn't try to hide his annoyance. He drank the shot and almost spat it out again, it was so strong.

He ordered another.

Gray was so busy surveying the crowd, he didn't notice that Loke was outpacing him. Only when he turned back and saw the bartender take away two shot glasses and an empty beer bottle did he wear a look of cutting discontentment. Loke weathered the glare and as a reward, he allowed himself to shoot a furtive glance Lucy's way. So far, two men and a woman had come crawling around her.

Across the bar, the dark-haired girl from earlier started weaving through the crowd, looking to get outside, a man at her back. Loke stood.

"Where are you going?" Gray asked sharply.

"Gotta take a piss," Loke said. It wasn't a total lie.

Gray frowned.

"What, you wanna come along and hold it for me?" Loke asked glibly.

"Maybe, if it means you won't fuck off on me again," Gray returned.

"Relax. I'll be back." Loke waved him off and started moving towards the washroom. Along the way, he ploughed hard into a blonde guy trying to gather up the courage to talk to Lucy, forcing him to spill the drink he bought for her all over the ground.

"Sorry, mate."

Loke was growled at. It slid over his skin ineffectually.

He did actually stop in the bathroom, just as he said. There wasn't any dark-skinned girl in there tonight, leaning against the wall with her skirt pulled up over her ass, just an old guy by the counter crushing up something white and powdery. He snorted it hard and swallowed a few times, trying not to gag.

Loke ignored the drugs, took his piss, washed his hands, then entered the bar again. Instead of going back towards Gray and Lucy, though, he went right, towards the emergency exit. He opened the door and glided stealthily into the cool night. He needn't be worried, though, the bar was so full, there wasn't a direct line of sight between the door and Gray's seat, and he was sure Lucy was too busy telling that guy where to jump to notice his absence.

Outside, a brisk wind brushed over his face and cut through his light jacket, chilling him to the bone. His arm ached. His cheek twanged with a memory. In the shadows, Karen waited, a half smile on her mouth.

"You saw?"

"I'm out here, aren't I?" Loke asked. His voice warbled.

"You're afraid."

Afraid. Every step said, afraid. There was no sense replying.

He heard them before he saw them, soft sighs, wet mouths. The smell of cigarettes came to him. Inspired, he took his own out of his pocket and stuffed one into the corner of his mouth. Curling around the side of the building, he came into a darkened alley. There was a street lamp at its end, but it had long ago burned out and no one bothered to replace it. Who wanted to look into this shadowy corner, anyway? All anyone would ever see were broken bottles, used condoms, crushed cigarette butts, gum and blood smears.

It smelled like piss and rotting garbage. It smelled like the corner every degenerate went to forget themselves, at least for a little while.

He saw the man's wide shoulders first, then his hands pressing the girl into the wall at her back. Loke's once broken cheekbone remembered those bruised looking knuckles well. There was a moment where he felt paralyzed. All he could do was watch Peter clutch the woman's throat loosely.

"Don't just stand there," Karen hissed. "Do something."

His blood raced. Right.

"Hey, got a light?" His voice didn't warble. He didn't stutter. He didn't flinch when Peter turned around. He smiled serenely, directing it at the girl leaning dazedly against the wall.

Peter opened his split-lipped mouth and said, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Getting a light, then asking the lady if she wants to ditch the preemie cumwad she's with and hang out with someone better." He said the words to get a rise out of Peter and wasn't disappointed. Peter let the girl go and faced him head-on.

"What?"

"Wow, a deaf preemie cumwad. What a snatch." He looked at the girl. "Got that light?"

The woman licked her lips, not yet intimidated by the rising tensions. She produced a sky blue lighter from between her breasts and handed it to Loke. Loke took the warmed plastic, well aware of Peter's seething scowl, and lit his smoke.

"So, what do you think, you want to ditch this dickhead and go somewhere that smells less like piss?" he asked around a long stream of grey smoke.

"What the fuck is with you?" Peter asked. "Do you have a death wish or something? You didn't get the hint the first time?"

"The first time?" the brunette asked.

"I kicked this guy's ass a couple days ago for being a waste of skin," Peter said.

Loke took another haul off his smoke then flashed his teeth, telling the girl, "That's real funny, isn't it? He's the one looking all messed up, right? Try again, Peter, who kicked whose ass?" Gray had really tuned the guy up. His cheek was still black and blue, his left eye was dark, and his mouth had two large scabs on the left side; Gray always swung right to left.

Peter snorted like an angry bull. Loke smiled nervously, though he knew it looked natural, cocky. He'd practiced the look in the mirror again and again and reserved it for when he knew he was playing with fire.

"Yeah?" Peter hissed. "We'll see."

The woman opened her mouth to add something just as Peter swung.

Instinct and residual pride had Loke dropping his quarter-smoked cigarette and dodging the first shot. He wasn't so lucky the second time, alcohol making him clumsy. Peter's ham-sized fist struck him straight in the jaw. It hurt more than the first time, maybe, because he wasn't nearly as drunk now.

Peter growled and swung again; Loke shoved his fist aside, his forearm going numb with the impact, and came around with a sharp uppercut that made his knuckles burn when it met Peter's jaw. No one ever talked about that, the pain; not humans because they were fleeting creatures, alive for only a breath, so who wanted to focus on all the suffering they endured? And not immortals, whose hubris was unmatched. For Loke, who was neither anymore, pain seemed like the only thing he could focus on. His knuckles sang.

Peter shook off the hit and roared like a beast. The next thing Loke knew, he was forced against the cracked alley wall, the air pushed out of his lungs. A large hand closed around his shoulder, pinning him in place while something cold and hard pressed against his throat. The brunette cried out from steps away, suddenly not so interested in the fight when steel came into the equation and raced back towards the safety of the Mansion.

"You fucking asshole," Peter raged, then spat in Loke's face and jarred him against the wall again. Loke stopped fighting and let it happen. The buildup was what he'd been so frightened of; now with a knife pressed against his throat and absolutely no control, he hardly felt anything at all. 'It's easy to die.'

He laughed at that, a weak, sputtering thing, and decided that he did feel something: manic.

"You think this is funny?" Peter asked dangerously and pressed the knife in hard enough to draw a runner of blood. "I could slice you open."

Loke waited.

"You have to ask for it, Loke," Karen prodded from steps away.

Ask. Dare. "Go ahead."

"I'll do it," Peter confirmed.

Oddly enough, it was that confirmation that made Loke doubt. "So do it." And then this can be over. A wet, red smile under his fake one would be enough, right? He wouldn't heal a cut like that.

Peter's hands shook, the knife rattling in his hold.

Loke grabbed the handle and held it steady for him. "Do it, asshole. Cut me."

"You fucked or something?"

"Just fucking do it, damnit!" Loke's lungs felt small. Please. Please. Please.

Peter swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Sweat prickled at his brow.

Loke closed his eyes. "Do it."

Peter actually pressed in harder. Loke released the knife so he could grab the loose material of his pants. Is it going to hurt?

"Hey!" Something cracked loudly. Spurts of celestial magic snapped through the night, pricking Loke's skin and making it hurt. Lucy had arrived, and she came bearing her whip. The pressure on Loke's neck lessened.

Lucy's whip cracked again. The blade jarred, cutting in a little deeper, then was torn away. The sound of it clattering against the split pavement was like a gunshot piercing the night. Terrifying. Heart-stopping.

No. No. No.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Loke stood there, pressed back against the wall, blood leaking down his throat and into the collar of his shirt, hurt but not fucking hurt enough. Anger made him thoughtless. He wanted to grab the blade and scream at Peter to finish what he started, but it was halfway to Lucy's feet now, well out of reach. There's yours. But Gray was coming, Lucy was coming.

There was no time, and he didn't know if he could do it on his own. Then he looked at Peter and saw the truth. He wasn't going to be any help. He just stood there and stared dumbly, shocked, panicked. Realization. Peter was coming to terms with the fact that he'd just thought about killing a man. Honest to goodness thought about killing a man. Not just beating him a little too badly, but cutting him open and letting him bleed.

And the thought made him sick.

Fucker. Furious, Loke balled his hand into a tight fist and swung. It hit Peter square in the jaw. The man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he hit the ground hard, landing in a cigarette butt filled heap, and lay still. Loke kicked his ribs hard for good measure, then stalked past a gap-mouthed and stunned-still Lucy.

"Are you okay?" Gray asked, recovering before Loke could walk by.

"Just fucking perfect," Loke hissed.

"You're bleeding."

"I'm fine. There's your thief. Better take him in."

"Your neck—"

"I said I'm fine." He entertained the idea of punching Gray, too, though it would only make him feel better for an instant. Is there no reprieve in this fucking place? Being stuck here is the worst punishment, he realized, maybe I'll never die. maybe I'll be trapped like this, with Karen tormenting me, with death teasing my heels, afraid to die but needing it and never fucking having it.

"Then you should help—"

"No." He pushed past Gray and stormed off into the night.

He had some strange looks coming into the Marduk but no one dared say anything. That was good. He was in no mood to be fielding their questions. His neck hurt every time he swallowed and he didn't have a backup plan, leaving him to wonder, now what?

Karen appeared at his side. He didn't dare turn to face her head on; her reflection was a little too black around her throat, her eyes. She was decomposing. It was illogical, it had been three years since she died, she was already only bones and sludge, but… there it was. He couldn't deny it.

"Is this ever going to stop?" He'd meant his words to sound forceful and annoyed but they were dry grass, mashed together and frayed at the beginning, middle and end.

Karen touched his back. "Yes."

"When?"

"Come see me, Loke," she whispered.

"You're here with me now."

"My grave, Loke. Come to my grave." He imagined the cascading waterfall, the place that was far too beautiful for his old master. "Doesn't it feel right?"

Yes. "It's really going to happen?" Even as he asked, he was hit with a powerful dizzying wave.

"Yes. I'll wait for you." She touched his back gently, caressing his spine with hellishly cold fingers, then she faded away.

The elevator opened, spitting him out into the hallway. He staggered to his room. There was a vanity that spat his image back to him. His neck was red. He took off his shirt and daubed the cut. It was long and shallow. Suddenly, he was glad. Karen was right, going to her side would have a certain rituality to it, one that appealed to him.

The trip to Alma Ridge, where Blue Pegasus and similarly Karen's grave was located, was going to take a day by train. The fastest way to do it would be to leave in the morning on the first train out of Port Gale. He couldn't imagine staying at the Marduk another night, though. He needed to get out before Lucy and Gray came and started asking questions he couldn't answer.

He snagged a plain black hoodie from his bag and tugged it on. He left his soiled shirt on the floor, grabbed his pack and was just going to the door when it burst open.

Lucy stood there, her curls limp, her eye makeup smeared with tears. When she moved it was in a flurry. Slamming the door closed behind herself, she stormed into the room, tore the bag out of his hand and threw it to the floor.

"What the fuck was that?"

Loke stooped and grabbed his bag again, feigning calmness. "Excuse me."

Lucy ripped it from his hands once more. This time when she threw it to the floor, she threw it far away. It hit the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Loke looked at it, annoyed, then decided fuck it, what did he need it for anyway? Everything that was really important was in his pockets.

He moved to go around her. Lucy grabbed him by the collar of the sweater, the motion pulling the material taut against his cut so it reopened. The pain was so startling, so abrupt, he could only gasp. It wasn't just the cut that hurt, it was Lucy, her magic curling around her agitatedly.

Lucy loosened her hold but the wrath was still in her voice. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm getting out of here, obviously," Loke responded. His warbling voice belied his cool words. "Let go of me."

"No." Lucy pushed him back towards the bed. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." It was easier to lie.

"I saw you, Loke. You were egging him on, daring him to do it. And when he wasn't going to, you were furious. So I'll ask again, what the fuck?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that bullshit. Tell me what's going on with you."

"I don't owe you any explanation."

Her eyes got lake-ice hard. "Would it be different if I was your master?"

He took her words like a kick in the gut. "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice shook even more than before.

Lucy's features didn't soften. "I think I do. You're a celestial spirit."

"Excuse me." He made another shot for the door. Lucy didn't push him, just placed her palm on his chest and he stopped.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

He could only look at her, not accepting, not denying, just fucking staring. Being around her was a mistake, he knew that from the beginning but hadn't changed anything.

Lucy said, "I want to help you. Tell me what's going on."

She sounded so sincere, his heart ached. "There's no point. You can't help me."

"You haven't even let me try." She touched his face. "I don't want you to hurt anymore. I don't want you to hurt yourself, and I don't want you looking for other people to do it for you. I can't stand it." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Talk to me."

She wore him down like water on stone. "I don't know where to start."

"With your name. Your real one."

Loke heard himself say, "Leo."

Recognition flitted over her face. "Good. Now tell me what happened."

Loke imagined opening his mouth and spilling everything. It would be like draining a festering wound. "I killed my old master."

Her fingers loosened, the only sign she was shocked. "How?"

"Karen was…" Right there at his side. He could smell her, like roadkill left too long in the sun.

"Tell her, Loke, Master commands it," Karen said.

He would not look at her. "She was mean. We were tools. She was the worst to Aries. I think because Aries wouldn't stick up for herself. Karen hated weakness; she smelled it and she latched on like a dog and would not let go."

"You make me sound like a terror. I think if she never said no, she must have meant yes," Karen said.

"I should have said something to stop it. I was supposed to be their leader, after all, the one that kept them safe, but I watched and watched. I think I hoped she'd stop but she never did. One day, I just kinda broke, I guess. She called Aries and I came with her. Aries went back to the celestial realm and I stayed because Karen wouldn't break our contracts. I stayed so she couldn't call another spirit. I stayed for so long, it drained her magic. She couldn't go out to work because I wouldn't do anything for her. It went on for months.

"One day, she got so desperate, she decided to go anyway. She couldn't do the job she wanted to and—"

"Say it, Loke," Karen prodded.

"She's dead because of me."

Lucy squeezed his fingers. Loke was afraid to look at her but made himself. The only expression he could see on her face was pity. "You did the right thing."

"I broke my contract."

Lucy showed no conflict when she said, "You stopped abuse when you saw it."

And now he was being punished for it.

"How long have you been here?" Lucy asked.

"Three years," he said finally. "I've been in the human realm for three years."

Lucy caught her breath. "How? That shouldn't be possible."

He snorted a self-deprecating sound. "As their leader, I could do things that the other Zodiacs couldn't."

Lucy said, "Go home, Loke. Go back to the celestial world; you've been here too long."

He shook his head. "I can't, even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

"I told you, I broke the most sacred rule, Lucy. I killed Karen Lilica. I killed my master." He felt his cheeks dampen but did nothing to stop it. "I can't go back to the celestial realm. My punishment is to remain here until all of my magic is gone. I'm to die like a mortal."

"I don't accept that. You were doing what was right," Lucy responded immediately.

"It wasn't right," Loke replied. "It was stubborn and it was cruel. She begged me, Lucy. And... And I said no." He couldn't ever forget her voice because she wouldn't let him.

Lucy was silent for a long time. Then her hands weaved with his and she said, "Karen knew the consequences of her actions. We're going to fix this. We'll have an audience with the Spirit King and get him to revoke his ruling."

"How?"

She gnawed on her lip. "I thought maybe you'd know."

"It's never been done. The Spirit King doesn't speak to mortals."

Her expression turned obstinate. "As soon as the library opens tomorrow morning, I'm going. There is something there. There has to be. Someone somewhere has spoken to the Spirit King."

No one, but Loke knew Lucy wouldn't listen anyway.

She was lost in thought for another moment; her expression cleared and she lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek. She kissed his wrist. "Will you lay down with me?"

Karen was gone for the moment and without her there, Loke felt his resistance dissolve.

Lucy took him to the mattress and sat him down at the edge. She tilted his chin up and kissed him chastely. She moved to his chin, his jawline, his cheek, and then his temple. "Here." She went delving into her purse and pulled out some antiseptic wipes. When she tore them open they smelled sharply like alcohol. "I'll clean up your arm for you. I didn't mean to hurt you again."

It'd stopped bleeding already. "It's fine."

"It's not. I was just… I couldn't think." She lifted his sleeve and wiped all of the blood away. She threw out the antiseptic in the washroom and came back with a gauze bandage she taped onto his arm.

Loke asked her, "What happened to Peter?"

"He was still pretty out of it when he woke up, so Gray just made some handcuffs and took him into the police."

"You should have gone with him," Loke told her.

"I think this is a better place for me to be," she said without missing a beat.

Loke snorted his displeasure, but really, how angry could he be with Lucy's fingers abandoning his arm and threading through his hair? And everything felt easier now that his secret was out.

Karen, think of Karen.

'I'll wait.'

He didn't think Karen meant she'd wait for this.

"We're going to fix everything," Lucy said like she read his thoughts. "I'll take care of you." She didn't like that he didn't respond. She kissed him as if to press the thought into his body, long and laboriously. "I promise." Every stroke of her tongue strove to swipe away a worry. "Okay?"

"Okay." Okay was the kind of okay a person said when there was nothing else to say. Okay was dismissive in the way a hopeful person wished it weren't. Okay was believably placating because he believed she wanted to and would do almost anything she could to make it true, though he didn't think it'd amount to anything.

Lucy kissed him more forcefully. Loke cupped her face and responded properly; what else was there to do? She fussed with the strings on the front of her dress, and then shrugged off the material so it puddled on the floor. She stood only in her panties, no bra, and let him look on, like she expected him to and would accept no less. He did. He took in each curve and dip but made sure to tell her,

"You always want too much."

She pulled her hair over her shoulder. "Always?"

"Yes."

"Maybe because I know you have more to give."

"I have nothing."

"You have this." She leaned in and kissed him for the third time.

Loke closed his eyes. You can't be hers. You can't.

She took him by the belt loops and got him standing; Loke went like a puppet on a string and let her remove the rest of his clothes.

Her hands were gentle touching him, insistent when she made him touch her. Intimate. Everything was too intimate. There was a secret between them and it made a string he wanted to cut but didn't have the right tools to do the honours, not there, not then.

She made them switch places, so her back was to the mattress, and pulled him down on top of her. Loke buried his face in her neck. He did everything gently, kiss her, fuck her. He didn't have anything to hide. He spilled on her belly. Lucy cleaned up and returned to him. Loke eased his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. He couldn't even dream of joining her.

Night bled into dawn. Six o'clock approached and brought with it the train to Alma Ridge.

The train to Karen.

Carefully, silently, he untangled himself from Lucy. He left everything as it was, taking only his knife and his wallet, and slipped out into the early morning.

Loke didn't really remember walking through Alma Ridge. He didn't remember following the mountain path out to this most secret spot, Karen's favorite spot, and he didn't remember dropping to his knees in front of her gravestone.

The sound of water roared in his ears. The edges of his vision got black. "Karen?" He'd been waiting for her to show up for what felt like forever. His feet had gone to sleep, his legs long since cramped and gone numb.

Will she deny me? he wondered, and again, will she force me to remain here, not immortal, not mortal, not alive, not dead?

Then she appeared, looking like a gruesome angel, arms crossed over her chest. Her skin looked too loose. He couldn't lift his gaze to meet her black, black eyes so he focused on her lips that wouldn't quite meet.

She confessed, "I deserved punishment."

"You were mean," Loke told her. "I deserved it, too, though."

"You did."

"I think I'm not afraid anymore."

"But you still don't want to die."

"No."

"I'm glad that's haunted you," Karen said. "I'm glad that I didn't know I didn't want to die until it was happening."

"You didn't get to appreciate anything in your last days," Loke told her. "That doesn't seem better."

"I didn't have anyone to pine after," Karen corrected him. "My death was less painful than yours will be."

"Well, there's that," Loke said without knowing if he was being sarcastic or not.

Karen looked at something over his shoulder. "We should do it now."

He closed his eyes and breathed out.

"Now, Loke."

"I'm coming."

"Now. Take my hand now." There was an urgency in her tone that could not be ignored. Loke opened his eyes. Karen's hand was out, reaching for him, and her mouth was open, her lips forming around his name, but it was not her voice that spat it out. It was Lucy's. He was confused, and then he felt her touch his shoulder and knew. Her arms looped around his neck.

"You scared me."

"You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you, not by yourself." Lucy's chin rested on his shoulder as she read Karen's grave marker. "You should have told me you wanted to visit her. I would have come with you."

His frustration choked him. "I wasn't coming back."

She stood abruptly. Loke looked at her; she was furious again. So, so angry, and when she was angry, her magic unfolded and nipped at everything. "I told you I wasn't going to let you fade away."

"It's not something that can be stopped," Loke barked back.

The ends of Lucy's hair curled and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Watch me. Open, Gate of the Lion."

"It won't work."

She ignored him and tried harder. "Open, Gate of the Lion—"

"Lucy—stop it. This is my punishment."

"You don't deserve it!" she retorted. "Open, Gate of the Lion!"

More magic. More and more and more. "You're going to burn yourself out!" Loke said over the magical roar in his ears. "Just stop, leave me alone."

"I'm not going to let you die here," Lucy told him fiercely.

"There are rules," he said. "I broke them; this is—"

"Every rule has an exception," she insisted. "Open, Gate of the Lion, Leo!"

He couldn't touch her anymore, there was so much power coming from her skin, she was like a minute sun, searing. Too bright. He closed his eyes while his skin burned. "Lucy—"

"Shut up, Loke. Let me take care of you."

"You can't get through! My gate is sealed."

"Then I'll make my own," she said. Her magic flared, the brightest yet. "Open, Gate of the Lion!"

There was a huge crack and then all sound fled. Loke struggled to breathe in the sudden pressure. Everything was frozen, the waterfall, the breeze that was drifting through the scrubby birch just steps away, the mist rising up from the crack between the rocks.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a harsh, baritone voice.

Loke felt the blood drain from his face. Lucy swallowed like her throat had been baking in the desert for years. She turned like it, too, slowly, like her bones were fragile things made of brittle talc. Loke followed her, to where a giant of giants waited, floating above the deep fissure where the water had once plummeted.

The light around his body seemed to bend in, like he had a gravity of his own. His moustache seemed larger than ever, and his tree-trunk arms were crossed over his barrel-like chest.

The Celestial Spirit King.

Lucy couldn't seem to speak until she'd gripped Loke's arm. "Loke needs to go home. Open his gate."

"Leo the Lion is banned from the celestial realm."

"He shouldn't be," Lucy said in a stronger voice. "He hasn't done anything—"

"He's responsible for the death of the celestial mage, Karen Lilica," the Spirit King said.

"It was an accident."

"He knew what he was doing." The king's words left little room for argument.

"He did what he did—"

"Lucy, stop," Loke interjected.

"To save Aries. She was being abused. You should know that," Lucy said stubbornly. "He was taking action when—" Yes, she dared. "—you wouldn't."

The king's face went blank. "Pardon?"

"Lucy," Loke hissed, horrified and scared for her.

Lucy shook, but she didn't back down. "He was doing the right thing. He shouldn't be banned. Karen was her own person; she knew if she kept going she was going to get hurt. All she had to do was break her contracts and Loke would leave, but she was greedy and prideful and terrible. Loke's done nothing wrong. Absolve him this instant, let him back into the spirit realm."

"It doesn't work like that," the king replied after a beat.

"Who makes the rules?" Lucy challenged.

"Me, of course—" the Spirit King started, then realized his mistake.

"Then you can change them. Let Loke back in. He deserves better than to just waste away here in the human realm. You should be thanking him for standing up for what was right, not punishing him."

"A human is dead."

"Karen may be gone, but it wasn't his fault. You know that. I know you do." She said it with such conviction that Loke saw the Spirit King waver. "Please. It's a celestial mage's duty to protect and care for their spirits, yet Karen Lilica hurt them. She didn't deserve them. Loke knew that and stood up for what was right and you should too." Tears made Lucy's cheeks shine.

"You truly believe what you're saying."

"Of course I do," Lucy said.

The Spirit King turned his eyes to Loke. "You've found an unusual young lady here, Leo the Lion, brave and passionate."

Loke's mouth felt far too dry to drum up a reply.

"Please let him return," Lucy pleaded. "Please."

He pursed his lips. "And who will be his mage?"

"Me, of course," Lucy said without hesitation. "I'll take care of him."

The Spirit King's eyes landed on Loke. "Very well. You may return, Leo, if, as your penance, you swear to serve Lucy Heartfilia for as long as she may live. If you break your contract again, there will be no second chances."

It took Loke a long time to process what he said.

"Are those terms not agreeable?" the Spirit King asked.

Lucy nudged him and Loke's brain kicked in gear. Lucy as his master. He hunted for Karen's ghost but could not find her. Lucy's radiance had pushed out the darkness. He whispered, "Yes."

"Then it is done." The Spirit King's voice carried power. Loke felt something searing hot move through his body into Lucy's, binding them together. It was gone as fast as it came, though Loke knew it meant he was Lucy's. Laugh or scream? Silence pushed its way up first. He was mute.

Lucy was not. "Thank you, Sir!"

The Spirit King grunted and started to fade. In front of Loke's knees, a golden key appeared, one he hadn't seen for a very, very long time. Lucy was quick to snatch it up. Turning to Loke she caught his face between her hands and kissed him gently. "I'll see you soon. Close, Gate of the Lion." Lucy's magic dripped out of her and into him. Her smile was eaten by the light.

Time passed differently in the celestial realm. Quickly. Wounds healed and magic restored. Karen's ghost nudged by him sometimes, but she only gained enough of a foothold to whisper a passing mean comment and then she was gone again.

When he was able, Loke opened his own gate and passed into the human realm to Lucy's side. She slept in her own bed back in Magnolia with her hair tangled across her face. Gentle morning light made glittering stars out of the strands. Loke touched them and Lucy came awake. She rolled back and pulled him down beside her. She smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Though in quiet moments, he still choked on guilt.

Lucy pushed his messy hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering on his cheek.

"You shouldn't have done that, Lucy."

"Why?"

"Because…"

"The rules are the rules?" She replied. "I don't believe that. Neither did the Spirit King."

"You don't know what he believed."

"You wouldn't be here now if he really thought you deserved your fate," she said simply.

Loke tried to find an argument for that. He had nothing so he said, "It was still reckless."

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat." She cradled his face and brought him in close enough she could kiss him.

"How did you know? What I was?" he asked between their mouths.

She brought in a huge breath. "I knew something strange was happening when my magic was drawn to you, but I guessed the night Peter attacked you. You were so beat up, your face was all split up and bones were broken, but in the morning, they were healed or healing. I'd only seen that kind of thing once before when I was young; Aquarius pushed me out of the way of a moving cart. I was really afraid for her but the next day, she showed up and her wounds were either gone or almost. After that… everything just kind of made sense."

He remembered her leaning over him, tell me, tell me. Tell her his secrets. "I'll always be here," he said when he could. "No matter what. Anything you need." It wasn't enough.

"I know." She pulled him in and moved her mouth busily over his. Loke closed his eyes, letting Lucy be as greedy as she wanted.

Old habits were like the walking dead. Haunting and hard to kill.

Loke stared at Lucy's ceiling, searching for the pain. He couldn't find any but there should be some, shouldn't there? He turned his arms towards the ceiling and looked through his lashes at the long scar reaching down to his palm. He fingered the raised skin. Even the memory of pain was dull. It shouldn't be, he thought. It should always be raw and unbearable.

He was standing before he even really realized he'd made the decision, and went rooting through his discarded pants for his wooden-handled knife. It was in his hand and he was on his way to the washroom when Lucy finally spoke up.

"Loke."

He stiffened, hand on the doorknob, and stared at the wooden door. He'd thought she was asleep. He didn't want to say anything, but his mouth moved, acknowledging her. "Yeah?"

"You don't have to do that."

He bit his lip while he determined if he should explain the difference between having to and wanting to. She wouldn't appreciate the distinction, he decided.

"Loke..."

He squeezed the hard handle, fingernails biting into the wood and into his palm where his fingers overlapped.

Lucy rose and came to him, inserting herself between him and the door. Her eyes were gentle, her lips soft when she got on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her fingers closed around his, then she set to work wriggling the knife from his grip. He resisted every step of the way, not knowing what he'd be without it.

"Trust me," she said.

"Lucy—"

Again she said calmly, "Trust me."

"What if—" I need to.

"Trust me."

His lungs felt too small. "I—"

"Let go. You'll be okay without it."

"How do you know?"

"Because you have me. Let go."

He didn't know he could until he did. Likewise, he wouldn't know if he could stop until he did. Somehow, he managed to loosen his hold on the knife. "Okay."

A/N: Edited. Done. Thanks for reading new readers, thanks for re-reading old readers. This story is special to me. Thanks for letting me share it with you.