Winter's POV

I could live with my beloved guild being crippled by a few dozen spikes being shoved haphazardly into its walls.

I could live with Master's decision to not retaliate, to back down from this Phantom Lord's provocation, because I knew he was right in thinking a war between guilds would only be bad for everyone, not just our enemies.

What I absolutely could not live with, was my friends being treated like wild animals, beaten and strung high for everyone to see, like three goddamn trophies on the devil's mantel.

Levy, Jet and Droy. Three people I cared a helluva lot about, even if Jet, Droy and I weren't exactly on the best of terms. Regardless of our personal relationship, they were my guild mates. They were Fairies. And to see them crucified to that tree, knocked unconscious, with Phantom Lord's ugly sigil etched into Levy's skin...

I wanted to murder someone. Who that was exactly, I wasn't sure. The master of Phantom Lord, or whoever he'd sent to do the dirty deed. More likely, though, I wanted to crush both into oblivion with my own two hands. And maybe a pair of Keys.

But no, here I was, watching over the freaking bar while my family went out on a hunt for Phantom Lord's proverbial head. I had company, sure, but Team Shadow Gear wasn't exactly coherent enough to talk with me, and Lucy was busy tending to them in the infirmary. I couldn't be back there, not now, with all the pent-up rage boiling inside me, whipping fire into my veins and tinting my vision a heavy, morbid red.

There was also Candor. He'd been asked to stay behind, which was understandable. He wasn't a Fairy yet, hadn't even gotten the symbol tattooed onto him. We didn't tell everyone everything he did, but the cold, haunted look that pooled in his feline-esque eyes was enough to steer people away from him, and only Master and I really accepted him as a member of Fairy Tail. I was hopeful that would change, but he'd have to stop being such a prick to people if it was going to happen anytime soon.

So it was just Loke who'd gone with the rest of the guild to pound of much-needed sense into Phantom Lord. Just him, representing Team Zodiac.

A long, loud, irriated sigh left my lips. This seriously just sucked. My hands were itching to curl into fists and pummel someone into unconsciousness. Not a natural urge, I suppose, but justifiable, I think. Maybe. I dunno. I wasn't exactly in my right mind right then, so I wasn't really thinking if anything was justifiable. I just wanted to pound the fury out of my system in any way possible.

My eyes lingered on the unattended bar.

No. No freaking way. You will not be Cana's substitute while she's out kicking ass. Nope. Not gonna happen.

I've never described myself as weak, per say, but... No. Yeah. I was pretty weak then, because it wasn't even two seconds later that was leaning over the counter, fumbling for a corked bottle among the shelves.

"Is this how adults are supposed to deal with their problems, Miss Winter? By drowning their woes in alcohol? Quite the example you're setting for me, you know."

"Oh shut up," I growled, finally snagging something that smelled like it could literally knock me out of my socks, and placed my feet firmly back on the ground. I took a fiery swig (savoring the fact that I wouldn't be lucid enough to remember how to speak English after a few more of those) before sparing Candor a heated glance. "Brat," I added as an afterthought, "you're, like, a year younger than me. I don't have to set shit for you."

He lifted an amused brow. "So I'm forgiven for dropping the formalities?" He didn't bother waiting for my response, not like I expected him to care enough to do so. "Good. I find it troubling to have to refer to you as a Miss. You're clearly not mature enough for it."

"Ha, ha, ha," I mumbled, tipping the neck of my bottle at him. "Clever, ain't ya brat?"

"More clever than you, seeing as how the only insult you've come up with for me is the oh-so-tired brat."

"I'm really not in the mood, Candor."

He seemed to pause at that, registering that I'd used his real name for once. His brows fell into one fuzzy green line. "You're really worried, aren't you?"

"No," I snapped, slamming my bottle down on the counter with enough force that I was suprised it didn't shatter on impact, "I'm pissed. I literally have no other desire right now than to just punch something, and I'm hating myself for it, because I could be a lot more productive right now if I wasn't just so... gah."

"...I'd be willing to be your target."

"Huh?" I looked up, baffled by his response. He sighed, just a little puff of air from between tight lips, pushing his flopping bangs from his forehead so he could meet my eyes.

"I've caused you enough trouble that I shouldn't be within a hundred miles of Magnolia, much less alive. The least I could do as recompense is allow you to hit me. And if it solves your growing anger problems for the moment, then it'll only be that much for beneficial to you."

He was serious. He really was going to let me hit him. My lips quirked into a thin, dry smile. "This isn't like you, you little lawn-head. Getting soft on me?"

"Hardly," he snorted, crossing his arms indignantly over his fragile chest. "This is most likely the nicest thing I'll ever come to do for you, so I suggest you take advantage of it before I revoke it."

I didn't say anything; I only pushed away from the bar and strode over to where he was leaning against the wall, a scowl threatening to twitch across his lips and furrow his brows to an even furrier degree (they weren't overly thick, but they were kinda wild and I just found them hilarious). We shared a look as I stood over him, one hand pressed to the wood beside his head, the other loosely balled into a fist at my side.

He cocked a brow, inviting me to take him up on his offer.

I frowned. Is this really ok...?

"Get on with it," he growled, the broken words vibrating thickly in his pale, scarred throat.

I found myself staring. Scarred? Since when...? I hadn't noticed during our little spat a week or so ago, but this close, without the haze of adrenaline clouding my focus, they were clear as day. Pale scars stood out all over his exposed skin (which was a bit more than usual, seeing as how he'd borrowed something from Gray in exchange for his grubby clothing we'd found him in). None of them looked the least bit self-inflicted, from the angles I could see, anyway.

The only thing that popped into my just then was the thought of his father.

I wanted to ask, but I was sure he'd only shut me down, claim them to be nothing more than scrapes from childhood. I didn't want to hear such obvious lies right now, so I held my tongue, instead choosing to throw back my fist, and his eyes fell shut on instinct.

I drew in a slow, deliberate breath before throwing my weight forward and--

"Wait."

Candor's eyes had flashed open just before my fist made contact with his nose, and I hastily dropped my hand.

"Look, er, I wasn't seriously going to hit you," I mumbled sheepishly as he slipped out of my hold, moving towards the guild's entrance.

"Never mind that." He turned in a slow circle, the tail of his sleeveless black coat swishing around him, fanning out like the skirt of one very manly dress. He faced the door, head turned so that our eyes met. "Where's your sister, right now?"

Puzzled, I made a gesture towards the back, where the infirmary rested.

"Are you positive?"

A trickle of concern slipped into my still-boiling bloodstream, icing my veins in seconds and cooling the feverish heat of anger that had invaded my cheeks. I dashed into the infirmary, expecting to see a teary-eyed Luce sitting at Levy's bedside, but today was just not my day.

Luce was gone.

"What the hell...?" I looked back at Candor, pleading for answers I could only hope he had access to.

"My magic," he murmured, touching gently at the base of his throat. "It isn't just about controlling others. I can keenly sense other magical presences, which is how I found you so quickly back in Somnia. I haven't been focusing much lately because I assumed the only mages in Magnolia were in Fairy Tail, and, seeing as how the majority of them are out for the day, I thought I wouldn't have to keep track of any piqued magic for a while. But just now... I realized I'd completely lost track of your sister's presence."

That trickle of concern from before? Yeah, well, the dam pretty much just burst, because my whole body had gone numb from it.

I cast a regretful glance back at the fallen Team Shadow Gear; babysitting would have to wait. Shaking my head, I caught Candor's wrist as I passed and made my way to the entrance, dragging him behind me.

"What--"

"I want you to show me the last place you felt Lucy's presence."

He didn't argue, didn't struggle. I figured he nodded or maybe he just silently agreed to help me, but whatever. I didn't much care whether he was willing or not. If my sister was in trouble, he'd help me get her back whether he gave a damn or not.

____________________________________________

"Here?!" I gestured to the empty street, my fingers digging painful half-moons into my palm as I tried to control the incessant shaking that had taken over my hand.

Candor, ever the blunt bastard, sighed, nodding. "That's right," he said, placing a coy hand at his hip. "This is the last place I sensed her."

"But she's--"

"Not here?" He rolled his eyes, clearly fed-up with my attitude. "I can see that. But take a look around. Don't you find something strange about this particular street?"

While I just stared at him, he stepped around me, walking into the middle of the deserted street. He spread his arms. "What's the weather like, right now?" he asked.

I chanced a wary look at the sky, thinking he was just messing with me. The sun still shone, bright as ever, above us, not a wisp of clouds scuttling across the vacant blue. "Uh, sunny?"

Dropping his arms to his sides, sliding his pale hands into deep pockets, he nudged his chin at the ground around him. "So why," he asked, "does it look as though a rain shower has recently passed by here?"

And that's when I realized just how much smarter Candor was than me. Sure, he'd come from a background probably more effed up than mine, but he'd survived it. More like he'd escaped. Just like me. But my point was, it wasn't just that he'd noticed the dampness to the streets, the frozen droplets that clung to the edges of roofs, the insubstantial puddles we'd inadvertently stepped over; it was just he'd been calm enough to do so.

He was detached from the situation, cold, analytical. And it was the first time I admitted that it might make him the better mage because of it.

He wouldn't fly off the handle because of the anger eating away at him.

He wouldn't make asinine decisions; he'd stop to think about the practical course of action.

"I suspect it's caused by magic," he went on. I got the feeling he knew exactly what was running through my head, he just didn't feel the need to comment on it. "Some sort of elemental magic, I'd wager. Like your charming friend, Natsu Dragneel's, though it's unlikely it comes from a Water Dragon Slayer."

"That'd be just what we need," I muttered. "I mean, Phantom's already got that weird Iron Dragon Slayer, Gajeel or whatever. Two would just be unfair."

"You think this is Phantom's work then?" he questioned.

I shrugged, absently stalking across the street, peering into an abdandoned alleyway. "Who else would it be? No one else is picking fights with Fairy Tail mages right now. Though I have absolutely no idea why the hell they'd target Lucy of all people.... We're... it's not like we're special or anything."

I got no response, but I wasn't bothered. Candor only talked when he thought it necessary, something I actually admired about him. I was famous for running my mouth, and there was that one incident with Erza... Ugh. I needed more self-control.

Just as I was about to kick the side of a building in frustration (don't try that at home kids; I probably woulda shattered my foot) something splashed across my nose. I tipped my head back curiously, only to snap it back down sharply as tiny pinpricks of water attacked my eyes.

Rain. Without a cloud in sight.

My eyes widened as I spun around, back towards Candor, to see he'd already whipped around to face me.

"Drip, drip, drop."

What the--

A cold, slim hand dropped onto my shoulder, preventing me from turning around. "Didn't Juvia just capture you?" a monotone voice inquired, a hairsbreadth from my anger-flushed ear.

"Capture?" A muscle in my jaw ticked. "I dunno, did ya?" I growled, ripping myself free from the woman's chilling grasp, backing up closer to where Candor had dropped into a wary stance, one hand positioned as though he gripped some sorta knife.

I caught a flash of metal between the falling raindrops.

The charm bracelet? From Somnia?

Since when did he...?

"No, Juvia is certain." The woman stepped forward, her steps muffled by the pounding rain, words still oddly crisp and clear. "Sol and Juvia captured you only a few minutes ago. But you were dressed differently."

Lucy.

I fingered my set of Keys, running one dull nail over one of our latest partners. I hadn't been there when Lucy received the Key (like with Sagittarius, which kinda pissed me off) but she'd told me how reliable (if eccentric) this Spirit was. I was hoping she'd be ready to help me out, if need be.

"Heh. Sucks for you then. Can't even keep track of one little mage."

"Non, non, non!"

I jumped, having not noticed the freaky green-haired man who'd suddenly popped up outta the ground. He only emerged up to his knees and didn't appear to have a spine, as he kept twisting and swaying, his head tilted upright while the rest of him continued on with his delusional dance. But I didn't much care about the man himself, just the girl thrown over his shoulder. Otherwise known as my sister.

"Sol," the blue-haired woman said, by way of a greeting.

"Salut Juvia!" he cried in what had to be the most aggravating French accent I'd heard in all my seventeen years. Not to say I'd heard a lot, but still. It was god-awful. "But, ma cherie, you are wrong! This mademoiselle is not the same one from before!" He patted Lucy's thigh lightly, indicating that no, she hadn't really escaped from them. "But she looks remarkebly similar, no? Don't hesitate, ma cherie! We should take her along with us!"

"Hell no!" I snarled, dropping my Keys in favor of thrusting my hands forward, palms flat and solid, a wall yet to be finished. "Drop the chick on your shoulder, now. No one, and I swear to God I mean no one, attacks a Fairy Tail mage and gets away with it!"

"As much as it pains me, I have to agree," Candor added, flipping his magical knife into existence, flitting over to my side. "It would be best if you returned the girl and left. I can't guarentee your safety otherwise."

"Non, non, non, c'est ne possible pas, mes amis! You Fairies don't understand. This is our mission; we cannot fail!" He suddenly sunk back into the ground, hesitating a moment to say, "Juvia, ma cherie, I will handle the petite plante, you worry about the mademoiselle."

"I will," she murmured in reply, lifting her hand to match mine.

Cursing, I pressed my hands forward, the spell for a nifty little IRON just about to roll off my tongue, but before I could even utter a syllable I was trapped, writhing in a sphere of pure, inescapable water. Sound died to strangled whispers; only the vague, cool touch of water made up my sense of touch. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. A heaviness fell over my eyelids, threatening to drop them. But the sight of Candor, wide-eyed with shock, dodging out of the way of Sol's lunge brought me back to my senses, if only for a moment.

Then, Candor slipped, crashing into the ground not even a second later. The orb of water that had splashed just behind him dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. Sol stood over him, a menacing black shadow seen through the undulating water keeping me hostage. I pounded frantically at the walls around me, trying to break free. Lucy was already lost; I couldn't let them hurt Candor as well.

Cheesy as it might sound, I already cared a little for the brat, despite what I'd told Loke and Levy before. Kindred spirits, or whatever it is people call them. That's kinda what we were. So I knew he'd already gone through enough agony in his life; he didn't need more.

I only barely made out what Sol was saying, and yet, it still caused my heart to drop into my stomach.

"Merci la Vie!"

There was a moment, a finite moment, where Candor only froze, the creases in his brow smoothing, arms falling limp at his sides. And then the moment passed and the boy's hands flew to his skull, letting out an ear-shattering screech that deftly penetrated the liquid walls surrounding me, sending waves of chills that webbed throughout my entire body, freezing me from the inside out.

The only word I could see on Candor's trembling lips was Dad.

And even though the one thought racing through my mind was help them, goddammit and stone was slowly crawling up Candor's legs, his knees, his arms, his chest and Lucy was still out cold on the cackling Frenchie's brown-suited shoulder, I passed out from oxygen-depravation.

Just like that.

And I hated myself for it.