Chapter 27: The Catch
The retreat from the Phantom Lord fortress was a funeral march through the twilight. The victorious charge had curdled into a desperate, shamed scramble. Macao and Wakaba carried Master Makarov between them, his small form frighteningly light and limp. Erza led the way, her armor a dull gray in the fading light, her back rigid with a failure that was a physical weight. Gray and Laki supported a barely-conscious Elfman, each step making him groan. Bisca covered their rear, her rifle scanning the shadows, her face set in a grim line.
Natsu Dragneel walked apart from them, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were bone-white under the grime and blood. The fire in his gut was a cold, dead ember, smothered by a torrent of guilt and fury. He knew. The dragon's instinct had known. His meta-knowledge had screamed it. He'd warned her about the rain, but he'd let her walk into the storm anyway, all to preserve a cursed timeline. He had sacrificed her sense of safety, and now maybe her freedom, on the altar of his own foreknowledge. The taste of it was more bitter than any defeat.
A weak, rasping cough broke the silence. Makarov's head lolled to the side, his eyes fluttering open, glazed with pain. "N… Natsu."
Natsu was at his side in an instant, matching the pace of the carriers. "Master! Don't try to talk. We're getting you back."
"The… girl…" Makarov breathed, each word a struggle. "Heartfilia… Jose showed me… a projection. She's there. In the fortress. A prisoner." He shuddered, a fresh trickle of blood escaping his lips. "A trap… for me. For us. My fault…"
The confirmation was a hot skewer through Natsu's chest, but it also ignited the single spark he needed. Knowledge. Certainty. He didn't hesitate. He didn't confer with Erza or make a plan. The timeline had already been confirmed the moment Makarov fell. All that was left was instinct.
He stopped walking. "Get him home," he said, his voice low but carrying absolute finality.
Erza turned, her eyes wide. "Natsu! We must regroup! We are in no condition…"
"She's in there now," Natsu cut her off, his gaze locked on the darkening silhouette of the Phantom Lord fortress in the distance. "He's hurting her now. I'm not leaving her there another minute." He looked at Makarov, then at Erza. The apology was in his eyes, but the decision was made. "I'll bring her back."
Before another word of protest could be uttered, he spun on his heel and exploded into motion. A jet of flame propelled him off the path, back the way they had come, a comet of orange rage streaking through the gathering dark toward the iron citadel.
Wait for me, Luce.
---
High within the cold, metallic bowels of Phantom Lord, Lucy Heartfilia stirred. Consciousness returned with a throbbing ache in her head and the chilling sensation of smooth, unyielding glass against her back. She was upright, held in a glowing cylinder of restraining magic. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Panic surged, clean and sharp. She struggled, but the energy field hummed, tightening its hold.
A door hissed open, and Jose Porla glided into the chamber, his long white hair and robes pristine, a stark contrast to the industrial gloom. Behind him lurked two of the Element Four, the hulking, flame-haired Sol and the water-wielder, Juvia, who stared with her usual melancholic intensity.
"Awake at last, Miss Heartfilia," Jose said, his voice an oily smoothness that made her skin crawl. "I trust your accommodations are… illuminating?"
"Let me go!" Lucy demanded, her voice trembling but defiant. "My guild will tear this place apart!"
Jose chuckled, a dry, soulless sound. "Your guild? Fairy Tail is finished. Their master is broken. His magic is gone. They fled like whipped dogs, carrying his corpse." He savored the flinch of horror on her face. "But you… you are the true prize. The reason for all this… unpleasantness."
"What are you talking about?" Lucy spat.
"Your father, Jude Heartfilia," Jose said, pacing slowly before her cell. "A man of… particular tastes. He wants his runaway daughter returned. He hired Phantom Lord to retrieve you. A simple enough contract for a guild of our stature."
Lucy's blood ran cold. Father. Of course. The unwanted suitors, the controlling letters, the endless demands to return and be a proper lady of the estate. He wouldn't come himself. He'd send thugs.
"But," Jose continued, his smile widening into something truly sinister, "why simply retrieve when one can… leverage? Your father is one of the richest man in Fiore. His desperation to control you makes him vulnerable. We will inform him we have you. That Fairy Tail, in their reckless violence, endangered you. The ransom will be astronomical. And once paid, well…" He shrugged. "Perhaps we keep you anyway. A celestial spirit mage is a valuable asset. Or perhaps we return you, broken and obedient, for an additional fee. The possibilities are so… profitable."
"You're monsters!" Lucy screamed, tears of rage and fear brimming in her eyes. She thrashed against the energy field. "My friends will come for me! Natsu will!"
"Natsu?" Jose laughed, a genuine, evil cackle that echoed in the chamber. Sol joined in with a deep, rumbling guffaw. "The fiery fool? He is nothing! He was just downstairs, beaten and sent scurrying by Gajeel! He couldn't even protect his own master!"
"You lie!" Lucy sobbed, but the doubt was a poison in her heart. She had seen the guild hall destroyed. What if it was true?
"Believe what you wish," Jose sneered, stepping closer to the cylinder. "Your value is not in your faith, girl, but in your name."
This was her chance. He was arrogant, close, and saw her as helpless. Summoning every ounce of acting skill she'd ever used to fake a smile at a society ball, she let her body go limp, her head drooping as if in utter defeat. A pathetic sob escaped her.
"P-please…" she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't hurt me… I'll do anything…"
Jose leaned in, his triumphant face mere inches from the energy field. "Wise. Now, let's discuss how you will contact your spir…"
"NOW, VIRGO!" Lucy shrieked, her head snapping up, eyes blazing.
There was a pink flash and a poof of star-shaped smoke at Jose's feet. Not Aquarius, but the industrious Maiden of the Underworld. "Punishment time, Princess?" Virgo asked, already in a perfect bow.
But Lucy's target wasn't Virgo. The sudden flash, noise, and appearance right between his legs made Jose jolt backward in instinctive surprise, his magical focus on her prison flickering for a split second.
It was all Lucy needed. She threw all her weight to one side. The weakened field bent. She wasn't free, but she could move an arm. As Jose stumbled, off-balance and shocked, she drew her leg up and, with every ounce of strength and fury in her body, kicked straight out through the fluctuating energy field.
Her heel connected with exquisite, brutal precision.
Jose Porla, Master of Phantom Lord, Wizard Saint, let out a sound that was neither a word nor a scream, but a high-pitched, strangled wheeze. All color drained from his face. He crumpled forward, eyes bulging, hands clutching himself as he sank to his knees, utterly incapacitated.
"MASTER!" Sol boomed, surging forward.
"Juvia is shocked! So bold!" the blue-haired mage gasped.
The restraining field sputtered and died. Lucy was free, but she was still dozens of feet in the air in a high, tower cell with only one door, now blocked by two enraged Element Four members.
She didn't hesitate. She didn't think. She thought of Natsu's warning, of his certainty. She thought of his fire, his promise. He said he'd be there. She had to believe.
With a final, defiant look at the groaning Jose and his advancing minions, Lucy Heartfilia turned and threw herself out of the open, giant lacrima-viewport of the cell, into the open night air.
The wind roared in her ears. The dark, spiked towers of the fortress rushed past. The hard, unforgiving ground hundreds of feet below yawned up to meet her. In that endless second of freefall, a single, clear thought echoed in the screaming void of her mind.
Natsu.
A roar, not of fear, but of primal challenge, split the night.
"LUCY!"
A streak of orange fire, brighter than any star, shot up from the base of the fortress like a reverse meteor. It intersected her fall with impossible speed. Arms of steel and flame wrapped around her, crushing her against a familiar, smoke-and-sunshine scented chest. The deadly plummet became a controlled, fiery arc, swirling down toward the forest floor.
They landed in a small clearing, Natsu's knees bending to absorb the impact, cradling her perfectly. The flames winked out, leaving them in the moonlit gloom, the only sound their ragged, shared breaths.
He didn't let go. He held her tighter, his face buried in her hair, his whole body trembling, not from exertion, but from a fear so profound it had turned his bones to water. "I've got you," he choked out, the words raw. "I've got you, I've got you…"
Lucy clung to him just as desperately, her fingers digging into the fabric of his vest, sobs of relief shaking her. The terror, the helplessness, the vile words of Jose, it all melted away in the solid, real safety of his arms. He had come. He had caught her. In that moment, nothing else in any world existed or mattered.
After a small eternity, he pulled back just enough to look at her face, his hands cradling her cheeks, his eyes searching for injury. "Are you hurt? Did they touch you?"
"I'm okay," she whispered, her voice hiccupping. "I'm okay. You… you came."
"Always," he vowed, the single word carrying the weight of an oath. The dragon within him purred in profound satisfaction. The mate was safe. The threat was marked.
A roar of pure, unadulterated fury erupted from the fortress high above, shaking the very trees. "LUCY HEARTFILIA! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS! I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU LOVE!"
The moment shattered. Reality crashed back in.
Natsu's face hardened. He took Lucy's hand, his grip firm and sure. "We have to move. Now."
He pulled her into a run, leading her away from the iron monstrosity and its screaming master, back toward the distant, wounded lights of Magnolia. They ran hand-in-hand through the dark forest, the promise of vengeance howling at their backs, but ahead, the fragile hope of home.