Yo! Here's another fanfiction about Gajeel and Levy by Pacifique. I will do my best to give it the translation it deserve, because it is one of the greatest GaLe story I ever read! It is darker than most of the GaLe fic, but more realistic, and I hope you could enjoy it fully. For now it's rated T. May turn M later for safety (I don't really know, I'll ask you)

I only own the translation, Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima, "Sick" belongs to Pacifique

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SICK

Prologue

(by Pacifique)

Prostrate on his bed, his teeth gritted, Gajeel was waiting for the crisis to end. He had leaned to live with it, in only a few weeks, this shooting pain had fully become part of his life. Deep down it was almost reassuring. It was the proof that things couldn't last eternally like this. Someday, he'd have to end this routine.

He closed his eyes, trying in vain to control his breath. His feet and his fingers were already dumb, not answering his injunctions anymore, painful as if they were dipping into the acid. He just had to wait, it always stopped eventually. He turned onto his back, freeing his erratic breath, and his hand appeared before his face. Suddenly he stopped breathing.

It should have been an ashy black in the red light, it should have been black. But it was shining as if it was covered in blood. If someone could have the chance to witness this scene he or she would have had the privilege to see Gajeel, bare chest on his bed, hidden in the half-light. He or she could have seen the fear dancing in his red eyes, making his face turn white. If this person had known Gajeel for a long time, he or she would have known that unlike we believed about him, it wasn't the first time that expression was spreading over his features. But the Dragon Slayer was almost always alone, and no one knew him for that long.

His other hand was the same, shining in purple, it looked liquid. During a long moment he was sure he had blood on his hands. As if this figured expression that was suiting him so well had decided to turn literally real. But he understood it wasn't the case. Actually his hands had become cold as if he was dead and it was just the evening light that gave them this color. In fact, they were covered in metal, his metal, his own magic was eating him.

It wasn't something he could fight.

When the crisis was over and his hands turned back to themselves Gajeel stood. He stood a second before his mirror, the time to hate his reflection, to composed his usual cold face. He was about to do something he had never done before, something he hated: begging for help. No, actually he was going to force someone to help him.

During his walk he thought he should have left this guild while it was still possible, before Makarov gave him this mission. A little while ago, he was really proud. He had decimated alone a few beginner dark guilds which members seemed to be exactly like him before: a ridicule puppet. He had met some strong opponents amongst them, and he had screamed at them, believing it with all his heart "I can't lose! I'm a Fairy Tail mage."

"Bullshit" He concluded for himself as he pushed the Guild door.

A tens of sharp icy glares pierced him and he sighed loudly.

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Yes, short, but it is only the prologue. What happened to Gajeel?

Please review, as much as I love your comments, the real author loves them even more!