Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1- Fate is a Fickle Mistress

As long as I have been alive, I knew that something was missing, like an empty hole in my chest, one that couldn’t be filled no matter how hard I tried. When I was younger I often wondered if it was possible to miss something that you couldn’t even fathom, to search for someone you’ve never met.

That was until I met Erza.

For as long as I can remember I have dreamt of Erza.

At first, I didn’t pay much mind to it. All that remained of the dreams after I woke up were fuzzy memories of a world that was not my own. After all, when you have games to play, and books to read, there is no point in dwelling over the little redhead that lived only in your dreams.

The dreams themselves were easy enough to ignore, they were only ever about a little redheaded girl. I had dubbed her as my “little friend.'' It was a fitting title for her in my child sized brain, why I couldn't have come up with something more creative I don’t know.

You might ask why I didn’t just call her by her name?

Because unfortunately I didn't know it for a while. My little friend kept to herself most of the time, I don't think I remember hearing her talk to anyone for more than a few sentences for the first couple years of these dreams. Occasionally I would see her talk to someone, although no one seemed to refer to her by name, it was always “hey kid”, or “ over here squirt”.

After what seemed to be the hundredth nickname, I was getting pretty close to pulling my hair out in frustration. If I was gonna be stuck following her around I should at least know her name.

Plus who helps people who don’t even care enough to remember your name!

Whoever my little friend was, she was far better than me. She would help her neighbours with their farming, and fetch water, build fires, and a whole other load of tasks that bored the hell out of me. I would often wish that I would just wake up already, no longer interested in watching the little redhead go about her daily routine.

That all changed when I was 8.

It was by all accounts an ordinary day.

I woke up excited, my mom had been promising me for weeks that we could go out into town. We usually didn't have time for such outings but it was one of the last weekends of Fall so she argued that we just had to take advantage of the good weather before the snow started to fall.

I had all but run downstairs, scarfing down my breakfast in an attempt to get out the door faster. My mom just laughed at my antics.

“My dear slow down,” she chuckled, “you're gonna get a stomach ache if you eat so fast.”

It was a brisk autumn day, the autumn weather already planning its grand exit, so the chills were starting to set in.

I remember thinking perhaps that’s why I felt so strange, my mom sometimes said that people’s heads hurt with the changing weather.

“Maybe that’s what this is, maybe that’s why I feel like this”

Deep down I knew that wasn’t right, my head didn’t feel like it was hurting, it just felt weird. Like there was a little voice in the back of my head screaming.

I didn’t know what it was saying but I really didn’t like it. It made my head feel foggy and my stomach turn to knots.

However I still tried to enjoy my day filled with adventure and folly, so I pushed back the feeling of dread and tried to enjoy the day.

Mom took me out for crepes, and we went to the park. It was a little sad playing with just me and my mom, but she had tried really hard to make me have fun.

We had ended up playing so many games that I had absolutely exhausted myself by the end of the day, my legs felt so heavy it was almost as if they were filled with lead.

As I curled up into my mom’s arms I felt truly at peace for the first time that day. As much as I tried to push it back, that weird feeling had been weighing heavy on me all day. So in the comfort of her mom’s arms, I had finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

Of course, all peace must come to an end.

My little friend was not okay.

I look frantically around as I hover over the redhead trying to get a grasp on what’s going on.

I can’t hear anything over the sounds of screams and fire, I can barely see more than a couple feet in front of me, I can barely see my friend through the smoke, her red hair blending into the blood that flows freely down the streets.

The familiar buildings that I spent years surrounded by have been burned to the ground, the familiar roads covered in blood. Strange men run up and down the streets grabbing children and attacking everyone else.

I remember just staring for a couple seconds, too shocked to move as I see the familiar faces that I have spent years surrounded by frozen in an unmoving mask of shock and pain.

The old grandma that my friend babysits for ... Head cracked on the pavement.

The family that my friend helped pick crops for … Stabbed, bleeding out in the very fields they spent so much time in.

The one child who my friend actually seemed to like … Screaming the arms of one of the strange men, desperately trying to free himself.

A little girl, who I only vaguely remember but can’t seem to recognize … Crying hysterically in an alley.

My little friend hadn't been noticed yet. I remember desperately wishing my friend could hear me, wishing that I could tell her to run. To hide. To do anything.

Wished I could whisk her out of there, hold her until she stopped crying.

Wished I had the power to help her, wished I could do anything that could save her.

Wished the girl in the alley would stop crying.

God I remember the terror that the sniffling ugly cry brought, I hated it it was loud even over the sounds of the chaos and it was bringing way too much attention to her. And by association way too much attention to my little friend.

My friend had noticed the little girl as well. Her eyes peered around the corner finally spotting the girl that’s making so much noise.

“Good”

“Run, get out of here, the men will catch you if you stay”

And of course she turns the corner and makes a bolt for it… in the wrong direction. She runs towards the little girl and whisks her further into the alley.

I had sped along behind her, not wanting to lose sight of the two girls. I saw my friend calm the little girl down, and unceremoniously drop her in a garbage bin.

I heard a noise from around the corner, with a feeling of dread I had turned my head and saw a terrifying group of strange men approaching. They were all wearing these weird masks and robes that covered their entire body, in their hands some strange looking weapons. Some sort of stun guns maybe? I didn't really know what they were, but I knew they were no good.

“Oh no.”

My friend hadn’t seemed to notice them yet, focused on calming the girl down and keeping her safe.

I had almost scoffed, honestly as if the safety of this inconsequential little girl was worth more than her own safety.

“Come on, get out of here, it’s time to go” I whispered, my voice quiet and pleading, begging to any god that could hear her. I had never believed in the god my mother told me about but know I was regretting never listening to her. Maybe if I had then God would listen to me, make my voice reach her.

After deciding the girl was safe enough and quiet, she turned, a determined look on her face. Ready to go back out to try to run and escape.

“No!”

I wished once again that her friend could hear her, hear my pleas to turn around and go the other way. Feel my hands try to push her down, push her away from the men that are going to take her.

My voice reached empty ears, my hands simply passed through as I was left helpless as her friend made a mad dash out of the alley, running straight into the group of strangers. Her eyes widened as she seemed to realize her situation, her legs moving as fast as they could go desperate to escape.

I screamed, a mask of my own horror reflected in the puddles running through the once clean streets.

My friend didn't even stand a chance, effortlessly tossed over the shoulders of one of the men. I could see her trying desperately to escape her hands hitting his back and her feet kicking his chest. Her screams echo through my brain but they only seemed to act as entertainment for her captors.

I had tried, tried so hard to free her, but my tiny fists flew straight through her captors. My screams only reaching empty ears.

I reached out trying to grab my friend's hand, tried to tell her that everything would be alright.

For a moment it seemed like our hands had met, I swear I felt the warmth of her skin, I could feel damp breath on her cheeks.

Our eyes met and I longed to say something, anything that could soothe her pain but all I could do was stare, transfixed by her sparkling brown eyes, widening in confusion.

My friend had gone limp, had stopped kicking and screaming and it was then I knew… I knew she could see me too. But just as fast as it happened the connection shattered, and I was ripped away from her, away from her village, and back towards my own bed.

I woke up in my bed, my lungs burning, I couldn't hear anything but I could feel myself screaming, screaming and crying, my heart beating out of my chest, my dreams far too big for my heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2- More Dreams and More Friends.

My parents had burst into my room, awoken by my inconsolable screaming.

My mother had rushed to my side, I felt her scooping me up into her lap, holding me so tight that I almost couldn't breathe again. My head was pressed up to her chest, and it was so weird, though I was the one that was terrified her heart was going just as fast as mine. She had just held me like that for a while making soothing noises while petting my hair.

My father gently sits down on her other side, holding my hand while trying to reassure me.

“It’s alright sweety, it’s just a bad dream.”

I really wanted to believe him, I wished I could believe him, I wished I could chalk it up to a tired child’s mind. But even then I knew there was something more, I knew deep down that whoever my little friend was, she was real. She was real and hurting. She was out there somewhere in this wide world all alone and scared out of her mind.

Of course the dreams didn’t stop.

I awoke night after night, dripping in sweat, screaming, crying.

My parents still came in night after night, trying their best to comfort me. But I could tell their patience was wearing thin, their tired eyes and heavy hands apparent.

My father would read to me, would read my favorite books until I was simply too exhausted to keep her eyes open. My mind still raced, desperate to stay awake to avoid seeing my little friend again, but my body always ended up betraying her.

My mother took a different approach, she would pick me up, and place me on the huge reading chair by the window and we would curl up together. She would point out all the stars in the sky, her eyes big and childlike as she told the stories of all the constellations, telling the story of every star in the sky. I loved these nights most of all, the stories of the stars were almost enough to make me forget what awaited me when I closed my eyes.

Of course the dreams weren’t all horrifying, sometimes they were almost bordering on normal. I still hated them but I did end up learning a lot about my little friend.

I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar setting, it looked to be some sort of cell, bare dank stone walls with the only source of light being a small barred window. The front of the cell was blocked off by heavy black metal bars, they were definitely intense and looked to be bigger than my arm.

I peer through the bars and see rows upon rows of cells, all with the same dark stone and dark bars, each with small bodies inside. Some were banging on the bars, their arms bruised and broken as they pound hoping someone will get them out. Some were crying, scared and alone and some just staring… staring blankly at nothing. Looking like there wasn't even any point anymore.

I had to turn away, and back towards my friend.

She was in the corner, helping a little girl. Trying to get her to eat some of the very little amount of food that was given to them. I swear it astounded me that she had stayed so kind, even in a place like this.

I worry about that sometimes.

Here she was with barely enough food to keep herself afloat and she was giving it away. And then there was a little boy from the village there too, offering his food away as well.

There was another little boy in the corner as well, with piercing blue hair, and a weird tattoo by his eye. He doesn’t seem to be interacting with anyone yet. He slowly drags himself to his feet, his hands brushing the dirt of his already threadbare pants. He introduces himself as Jellal, Jellal Fernandes.

He turns towards my friend, and with a smile he asks.

“What’s your name?”

“My name’s Erza, just Erza” Her eyes drifted down lingering around her feet, embarrassed about the attention.

“Finally, able to put a name to the face, Erza…It suits her, certainly far easier than calling her my ‘little friend’.”

I look up to see Jellal startlingly close to Erza, his hand grabbing onto a small portion of her hair. He looked up at her his eyes gleaming almost mischievously.

“Well that won’t do”

“Quite the gentleman,” I had thought rolling my eyes, “Seriously who does that, you don’t just grab people’s hair like that”

“How about Scarlet, Erza Scarlet. It’s the color of your hair.”

That had broken me out of my thoughts as I looked over at Erza, and as I did I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. I swear Erza’s face had gone as red as her hair, the shock evident on her face. I let out a little chuckle. That was the first time I had ever seen her that color, honestly it was actually kind of adorable.

I had also gotten to know a bit about Erza’s new friends.

There was Milliana, an excitable girl only a little bit younger than Erza herself. Sho, who was seemingly the younger brother of the group. He was a little bit naive but nice enough overall. Simon, who was the boy from Erza’s village, he was such a big brother character, somehow both wildly protective but also sweet and charming.

Lastly, there was Grandpa Rob, he was a kind old man who all the kids loved. He kept them occupied with his stories and consoled them when it all became too much. She could see how Erza’s eyes lit up when he started to talk. It was always such a relief when she saw that light, a reminder that my Erza was still in there, that this place hadn’t broken her.

Then there was Jellal, Erza loved him, I could guess that much. He was kind and brave and protected Erza over everything. And I know I should appreciate him, I know that he made Erza happy, and with how her life is that was a blessing.

But I still didn’t like him. There was no reason as to why not, he was perfectly nice. But every time I saw him talk to Erza, make her laugh, I swear I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I suppose you can’t get along with everyone, and maybe Jellal is just one of those people. But he makes Erza happy, and that’s enough.

As I was watching Erza and Jellal, I feel a familiar tug, like a rope, pulling her back to the comfort of her bed.

“Ah, at least tonight wasn’t too bad,” I thought allowing myself to get pulled away”

I awakened to the sun slowly peeking out from over the horizon, it was the best sleep I had in a while. And god was I glad for the energy because in a couple of hours I’ll be meeting with yet another therapist.

“Ugh.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3- The Mind's Eye

After the first month of nightmares, my parents brought me to a child psychologist.

 A lanky old man, with an oversized sweater that didn’t quite fit his demure hunched form. He was convinced that my nightmares were just a “product of my environment”.

Basically meaning that I was being bullied or beaten behind closed doors but was just too scared to tell him. Despite my numerous objections, my parents had ended up pulling me out of school, which was just such an unhelpful hassle. 

The uniform is pretty ghastly, the polyester shirt was ugly as all hell as well as being itchy and stuffy and her skirt was just annoying. So yeah, I didn’t particularly like it, but I could live with it. 

The teachers were nice enough and it's not like I had any friends that I was leaving behind anyways. 

Of course the nightmares didn’t stop. I tried time after time to tell him about Erza, about how I knew that Erza was real, that the nightmares wouldn’t stop until we helped her. He seemed particularly uninclined to believe me, chalking it up to stress from sleep deprivation. 

“Not particularly a good trait for a child psychologist”.

After that, I was shuffled around between sleep specialists, psychologists, and therapists. Each one insisting on a different problem, or just unable to figure it out, but not one of them actually believed me.

The only person that really listened to me was my mom. She was always in my corner, no matter how bad the dreams got, no matter how many psychologists I yelled at, she always believed me. She would lie me down, and tell me that fate worked in mysterious ways and for whatever reason fate had linked me to Erza.

I had always frowned at that, what good is fate if it's putting Erza through hell. Why would it link us and leave me unable to do anything… Why would it leave Erza all alone?   

My dad had tried to help as well, spending what little of his free time he had looking for the village from my dreams, hoping for answers, hoping to find something that could explain why his daughter was having the dreams she was. I don’t think he ever found anything, he seemed to spend endless hours in his library but whenever he emerged he had a far away look on his face. I learned not to ask after a while. 

So I was forced to move on, and now here I was. In another therapist's office that I distinctly did not want to be in, my mom to my left looking as tired and worried as always. I suppose it was justified at this point, this was my third therapist in as many months, I was starting to get a little bit of a reputation. If this didn't work out she’d have a little bit of trouble finding anyone to help me. 

The office is no different than any of the others, the walls a drab beige, the chairs plastic and uncomfortable if you sit in them for any more than a couple minutes. A bored receptionist sits at the desk, probably playing tetris or something. 

“Lucy Heartfillia?”

My eyes drift up, away from the receptionist, and towards the professional looking lady in the doorway. 

Mom gives a soft smile and I slowly get up and walk into the office. 

The office is about as warm as you can expect, the furniture a soft gray, the walls lined with uninspired posters that are probably only there to fill the space. Toys were tucked away in the bookshelf on the one side of the room.  Everything was organized prim and proper. Just like usual. 

“Sigh”

I spot a soft grey plush chair tucked away in the back of the room, I quickly stalk over and sink into it, my form almost being swallowed. I take one more glance back at the therapist,she stands tall over me in her boring pantsuit, with large glasses that didn't seem to sit quite right on her face and her thin hair pulled back in a tight bun. 

“Hmph.”

Apparently she didn't seem to be entertaining the dramatic sighing, she simply sits across from me and pulls out her clipboard and introduces herself as Doctor Lin.

“So your parents tell me you’ve been having some nightmares.”

“Ugh”

“They're not nightmares”

Dr. Lin remains the unshakable embodiment of calm, simply adjusts herself in her chair. 

“What do you think they are, Lucy?”

I look down at the shaggy carpet, “does it really matter at this point?” 

“Of course it matters, you have plenty of people in your life that care about you and want to help you, but I can only do that if you talk to me.” 

A surge of bright red anger flared through my veins, and a heat rose up within me. All I’ve been doing is talking about my feelings, yet I’ve been pushed through hoops and over hurdles for stupid old doctors. 

“I keep telling you people! She's my friend and she's real, and she’s just out there somewhere! I’m not crazy and I’m not stupid, I don’t want to be causing all this trouble but I can’t help it! Do you think I want to be going to different doctors every weekend? All I've been doing is talking to you people yet all anyone has told me is that there is something wrong with me!” 

I sank deeper into the chair, pulling my sweater up to hide my face.

“I don’t know why I can see her but I can, she keeps getting hurt and no one wants to help her.”

Dr. Lin keeps her face neutral, probably observing me taking notes about how I seem to be trying to disappear into the fabric of the plush chair sinking deeper and deeper until the fabric seems to swallow me up. 

“Alright.”

I pull my face out of my sweater.

“That’s it, no asking why my imaginary friend is so sad, or where I get these ideas?’

Doctor Lin takes a moment to think, straightening out her glasses.

“If you say she’s real then I believe you-” 

“I sense a but coming.”

“-But your dad told me he already looked for your friend, he is trying to help you. People want to help her, but we are also worried for you.”

I can feel myself shrink at that.

“I know, but Erza hurts so much and I just don't want her to be sad anymore.”

Doctor Lin gave me a quizzical look.

“You can feel sad for her but also want to help yourself.”

I gave her one last look, eyes scanning her up and down for a moment, trying to get a hint at whatever game she was playing at. 

“But… that’s not fair.” 

… 

“Go on.”

“Why do you think I can just ignore her! Wh- What do you want me to do? Do you want me to just stop trying to find her? That's not fair! She’s in Pain! Her and Simon and Sho and Millie and Jellal all of them! How is it fair that I get to live like this? That I get to sleep tight when I know that I can help them!” 

I look up to her, I feel my heart racing, it’s pounding against my chest like a drum. 

Dr. Lin didn’t even seem to be phased by my outburst, her face remained in the neutral pleasantry that it had been since I sat down, neither happy nor unhappy, neither believing me nor disbelieving. 

“You're right Lucy, it's not fair.” 

“What?”

“It’s not fair, but a lot of life isnt. But right now, you're hurting yourself, that's not helping you and it's not helping Erza.

I can’t stop you from worrying about her but I think it's important that we learn how to feel these big emotions in a way that doesn't hurt you.” 

“And how do I do that?” 

“I want you to try to write down how you feel somewhere, I think it will help you understand where these big feelings are coming from, so we might be able to work out a way to help you deal with them.” 

Bzzt 

I turn to see a clock in the corner going off. 

“I suppose that's the end of our session today Lucy.” 

She gets up, brushing invisible dirt off her already pristine pants. Her arm gestured to the door. 

I let out a small sigh and dragged myself out of the comfy plush chair and to my feet. I turn the corner to see my mom's exhausted face waiting for me in the waiting room. 

The car ride home was quiet, as was dinner. 

I know that they are trying to hide it but I can feel the tension in the air, the weight of these dreams, the weight of me lingering in the air. It was like a suffocating smog that left everyone feeling drained, unable to summon up the happy smiles that once were constant. 

I trekked up the stairs and to my room, I opened the door and flopped down on my bed, looking up at the painted ceilings. 

At the very least today wasn't a total bust, Dr. Lin seemed at least better than most of the others. 

I turned my head over towards my desk, and the little red journal that resided upon it. I had gotten it as a gift last Christmas I think, one of my relatives not having the energy or care enough to figure out what girls my age would like.

“Alright Dr. Lin, let's give this a try.” 

I walk over to my desk and open up the bare journal, what would I even write anyways. How am I feeling? 

Tired I guess. 

And confused. 

Why do I only see her in my dreams, where is Erza? Why am I different? Why am I connected to someone the world is so certain doesn’t exist?

 Why did fate connect me to someone if it's just going to hurt me? 

Erza’s smiling face came to mind, unbidden. I remember the first time I saw that smile again I almost cried, it was such a small moment of joy but it made me feel hope for the first time in a while. 

I finally put the pen to paper. 

    Dear Erza, 

I don’t know why I’m writing this, I can’t send it. But I want to let you know I really am trying to help you, Dad has been looking night and day to try to find you. He hasn’t found anything so far but I know he will. When we find you I’m gonna give you the biggest hug! You can come live here and smile allllll the time. 

I worry about you, I know you must find it really silly that I’m scared when you're in such an awful place. But I can’t help it. I’m really scared -

drop 

Fat tears well up in my eyes, gathering and then falling to the paper below. 

Oh, I’m crying now

“Huh.”

The tears keep appearing despite my best efforts, sobs building up in my lungs, my shoulders start to shake with the effort of suppressing them. 

“Why am I crying? I'm safe, nothing's wrong with me.”

“Why am I crying?”