#ohgodsomuchangst

[divinion1990]

Sabretooth; Dusk/Dawn

One year ago, the Grand Magic Games were held in the capital city of Crocus. It had been a triumphant year in so many ways, even as Sabretooth had suffered a surprising loss at the hands of the reformed and renergized Fairy Tail. The battle itself, however, was vastly overshadowed by the near miss of the dark magic ‘Eclipse’. Everyone in Fiore knew how close the world had come to a terrible fate of ten thousand dragons. Only the sheer determination of Lucy Heartfillia’s future-self had managed to save the world, making sure that not a single dragon could escape Eclipse in their timeline.

“Are you going to be much longer?” Minerva said, throwing a less than playful glare in her master’s direction.

“Hang on, hang on,” Sting said, raising a hand to silence her. The new guildmaster refused to be rushed. He’d been studying the small piece of paper intently for a good five minutes now, making small hums to himself as he took in each word and strung them carefully into their set phrases. He must have read it a thousand times already, but he had to be completely certain that he wasn’t missing something important. “I need to make sure that everyone gets the right missions in my guild,” he explained.

“No, you don’t. That isn’t your job. You gave all mission approval to Rufus, remember?” Rogue pointed out to him, holding out his hand to take the mission request.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to double check,” Sting said with a small pout, giving the browning paper reluctantly back to Rogue. “I want to know you’ll be safe.”

“Don’t worry, he’s a big boy. He can do a mission without you,” Minerva said, a smile twisted on the corner of her mouth. “And even if he couldn’t, I’ll be here to protect him.”

“Fro thinks so too!” came a smaller voice from below.

Sting smiled as he leaned down to Frosch’s level. Minerva had a point; it wasn’t as if Rogue was going to be left on his own. Knowing that he had a very capable friend by his side made him feel a little more at ease. “You’ll make sure everyone comes home safe, Frosch?” he asked the smallest member of the party.

Frosch didn’t even need to think about it. He nodded and looked up at Minerva and Rogue, and then back to the approving, kind eyes of the master. “Frosch will look after everyone!”

Sting’s grin widened as he put an affectionate hand on the exceed’s hood with just enough pressure to make the cat giggle and shake away. He stood, sharing the expression with his other two friends. “Knock ‘em dead, guys.”

With the approval, both Minerva and Rogue let out a sigh of relief. It had taken some time, as had every mission before this one, but at least Sting was beginning to accept this would be an ongoing trend. “We won’t be long. If it all goes right, we’ll be back before dawn,” Minerva assured him.

“Dawn?” Sting asked again, the confidence fading as he looked back to the doorway. There weren’t many windows in their guild, but as the door opened and closed, he could see the glimmers of red light shimmering over the horizon. “But it’s just about to turn nightfall. Are you going straight away?”

“The mission was clear they wanted it actioned immediately,” Rogue reminded him.

“The quicker we can have it done the quicker you can get him back, Sting,” Minerva said, already taking Rogue by the arm and beginning to lead him towards the door. Just another subtle gesture to make Sting feel even more uncomfortable, even as her words remained kind and filled with reassurance. “I’ll bring him back soon.”

“Fro thinks so too!” Frosch told them, waving to Lector and Sting as he disappeared out of the guild door for the very last time.

Sting had tried to sleep. Really, he had. It was just a mission. Rogue and Sting had taken plenty of missions without one another over the years. They’d both worked alongside Minerva. Naturally, it made sense that Minerva and Rogue would take missions with just the two of them. And Frosch, of course. It was just normal. The natural progression of friendship.

He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady hum of Lector’s sleep. There was no reason for the dragon slayer to stay awake and think about the wellbeing of just one member of his guild, just one friend amongst so many. He had an entire guild to care for now. He had the responsibility of a family that had adored him enough to put him into that position of power. The shackles that kept him firmly inside the guildhall while people like Rogue could go and explore the world.

Jealousy. He decided it was pure jealousy. Because he should have been alongside them both. He should have been fighting with his partner, with his friend, for a great many years until he even began to think about anything like the responsibility of ‘master’. Maybe he could get out. Take on a few more last-minute missions. Go out with Rogue and Frosch and Lector just one last time, like the good old days.

Even with that explanation, there was a twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Lector woke around the same time that he got up, though he insisted that the two were unrelated. Whatever the reason, Sting was happy to have his company as always. He could cope without Rogue and the others for a night or maybe even longer, but never without his exceed. They would do everything together – getting ready for the day as a unit. They left the house side by side, walked into their guild and made the same greetings to their nakama. They got breakfast together, eating and drinking almost in complete unison. And both of their eyes wandered back to the doorway time and time again.

The sun was rising in the sky. Dawn had passed a couple of hours earlier, and still there had been no sign of the small team. Sting had suspected from the start that they’d been overambitious in their prediction to be home so quickly, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Maybe they had got themselves into some kind of trouble, some distraction, or maybe just an adventure that Sting was now missing out on.

“Sting, we need to talk about the mission acceptance process.”

“Uh huh…” Sting said, more distracted as he took a sip from the coffee mug. A new obsession he’d developed with his promotion. “I told you, just go with whatever. I trust you.”

“That’s just the thing. We have a lot of new members and I don’t think I’ve seen enough to know-“

“Instincts, Rufus,” Sting explained to him, knowing that would prove to be difficult to someone that worked solely on memories. “I…”

He trailed off. He thought he caught something, a shift that was as familiar as his own heartbeat. A scent, filling the air. Finally! He thought to himself, quickly turning back to the doorway.

It opened, but it wasn’t the team that he’d expected to see. Another newcomer, another Sabretooth member that Sting had yet to build the incredible relationship with yet. Even more so now, he felt his heart dropping in disappointment. It wasn’t who he thought it was, but he’d definitely smelled-

“Sting?”

“Sorry!” Sting realised he’d stopped talking midsentence. He turned back to Rufus, pledging to himself to give him his undivided attention this time. “What was I saying? Instincts! Use your instincts. You’ll do great, I know you will,” he said, clasping his hand over Rufus’s shoulder.

The smell… There it was again! To make matters worse, as Sting tried to focus on Rufus, his eyes were drawn away. A shadow where there should have been light. A quivering black mark that scooted around the floor of the guildhall like a mischievous rodent. His eyes stayed wide as he watched it, not sure what to make of it. Why was a shadow there- why was this shadow acting in such a peculiar way?

“What are you looking-?”

“Ah! Nothing! Nothing- don’t worry about it!” Sting said suddenly, drawing Rufus’s attention back to the conversation as he shook his shoulder. At least, just long enough for the memory maker to miss the dark mark finally disappearing through the far door. He might not have understood why, but it was clear that the shadow was trying not to be seen. “Um, why don’t you make a list of, uh, the missions? And you know, categorise them or something. Alphabetise them. Colour code! Uh, be right back.”

He didn’t bother looking back. He just knew that Rufus was giving the back of his head a perplexed look. That was fine, at least it meant that he didn’t know enough to raise a question. Not that Sting would have known how to answer him. Not until he had this chance to disappear into his doorway of his office.

The small room was quiet. Almost too quiet. He sniffed against the air, more certain than ever that he was not alone, even if he couldn’t locate the mysterious shadow. Not only that, he could see the evidence. Sting was a messy individual, but even he wouldn’t have left his study in this condition; papers strewn across the floor, books pulled from bookcases and ornaments pushed around haphazardly across their surfaces.

“Rogue?”

There was no answer. Sting took another step forward, trying to work out which of the shadows was cast by light and which were a perpetual darkness. His mind was racing. Rogue would never keep himself hidden. He would never disappear from him, upturn his entire office and remain silent. This didn’t feel… right.

“Rogue, I know you’re here…” he tried again, keeping his voice softer.

There was a sudden scuffling. A shot through the light. The black mark bounced from under the desk, to the far side of the room. More books tumbled out of the bookcase, more letters flew into the air. The darkness shot up to the ceiling, curling into the corner.

“Rogue!” Sting found himself shouting, taking a step back from the mess. This was animalistic. It was blind and destructive. “What the hell…? Come down - talk to me!” he said, keeping his voice steady and clear. He was supposed to be an authoritative figure as master – but more than anything, a friend.

The shadow shivered. It twisted in the dark corner of the room, swirling ominously. The void had hollow eyes somewhere beneath the layers of mystery, and they were staring at the guildmaster. The darkness was quivering, ready to pounce, ready to fall, ready to attack, ready to surrender-

The shadow slipped into the empty patch on the floor, swirling into an inky black stain just in front of Sting. Although he’d seen it a thousand times, it was always mesmerising to watch Rogue’s body swallowed in reverse by the gaping hole, a dark silhouette gaining form and twisting into a vaguely human figure. The textures softened to skin and fabric and hair, the colours shifting to white, grey, and a deep crimson red.

Sting took a staggered step back. As the shadow dissolved into the familiar man, the scent of his best friend filled his nose. It was as overpowering as it was distorted, a sickening harmony of sweat, dirt, and blood. So much blood. His eyes traced over the dragon slayer’s body, across his chest, his arms, his legs, his sides, his shoulders, his neck… barely finding a patch on his outfit or skin that wasn’t cracking with dirty red stains.

“What happened to you? You’re hurt-” Sting whispered out, stepping forward.

“It isn’t mine.”

The words stopped Sting in his tracks. Rogue didn’t sound much like Rogue anymore. His voice was deep and filled with a frightening power when it felt it should have been at its weakest. In just a few words Sting had the overwhelming urge to fall to his knees, to beg for mercy. He swallowed instead, struggling to keep himself from shivering. “Who’s is it?” he asked.

Rogue didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes silently swept across the office. They were cold and filled with purpose even as they darted around. Suddenly, he launched himself across the room. Another pile of papers was torn apart, scattered in all directions as Rogue desperately poured over them.

“H-hey wait!” Sting said, still more than confused. The snowstorm of paperwork was drowning him, the red fingerprints staining every other sheet. “Slow down! What are you looking for?”

Rogue hissed under his breath. He seemed to struggle with himself on that answer, rocking back and forth as his eyes darted like a caged animal. He glanced up to Sting several times, before staring straight ahead, an argument he seemed to be both winning and losing raging in his mind. “The shadow,” he whispered eventually. He turned back to his counterpart, finally letting Sting see the redness in his eyes and the hollow horror trapped inside. “You have a plan, a way to get rid of the shadow. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Yes, you do!” Rogue screamed, throwing yet another pile of papers around, this time for nothing but the pure destruction. He glared at Sting, the pain congealing into helpless anger directed at his friend. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! Don’t lie to me! You know exactly what I’m talking about so where is it-where is it??”

Sting tried to take another gentle step forward, even if every one of his instincts were telling him to step away. He’d never felt this way about Rogue before, never felt this throbbing fear that ran riot through his mind. He wasn’t a threat, he had to remind himself; he was a friend. Not just any friend. That special friend, that friend that meant more than the world to him.

Except his exceed.

Sting stopped in his tracks. He could only detect one smell, one person mixed with the salty sweat and metallic blood. He’d thought there was something so strange about Rogue’s scent from the moment the shadows had parted, but could only assume that it was solely the blood-

“WHERE IS IT?!”  Rogue shouted.

This scream was suddenly with something new. Less of the restless and nervous desperation, a passion that he rarely got to see from his subdued friend. Sting’s eyes grew wider. He kept his own body from shaking the same way that Rogue’s was, kept his anger under control while Rogue’s ran away with itself. “I’m telling you I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered.

“Bullshit!” Rogue screamed at him, the aura around him dropping into a rippling darkness. “You know how to stop it. You can stop the shadow before it takes over. You have one chance, you have to stop it once and for all-”

“Rogue, where is Frosch?”

There was a sudden shift. Rogue bit back his screaming and rambling. The arguments stayed inside of his head, twisted and turned over one another, fumbling without finding voice. Though it was clear he was trying. His mouth opened and closed, eyes staying wide and staring back at Sting for the explanations that failed to materialise.

Sting took the silence opportunity to continue, his own questions now overflowing. “Where’s Minerva, Rogue?” he asked, ignoring as his mouth threatening to become too dry to keep asking.

“I don’t know,” Rogue shook his head, quickly answering under his breath.

So… if he didn’t know about Minerva… Did that mean he knew where Frosch was? His scent had become so foreign in such a short amount of time, not just from the mixture of blood and battle, but distinctly missing something that always should have soaked his clothes. Sting frowned to himself. “Whose blood is that?” he pressed yet again, his voice slower and filled with his own growing fears.

“Everyone.”

He stopped. “Everyone?”

“Avatar. Army. Village. Everyone. All dead. All gone.”

Sting tried to tell himself not to let his heart break. He tried not to let the pity creep through his expression, to keep himself strong while Rogue was weak. But one word… one shaking word threatened to ruin all of that.

“…Frosch?”

Rogue looked away. His eyes closed. His breathing slowed to a chill shudder. And he nodded.

Shit.

It had been exactly what Sting had feared. That feeling that lurched in his chest. And no doubt felt a million times worse for Rogue. Sting knew more than anyone that a bond between a dragon slayer and their exceed was more than any simple friendship, even more than family. It ran deeper than the bond than a human could have with their own limbs. It was a part of them, the heart that beat inside their heart. And Frosch… Frosch was just so…

Sting blinked back his own tears. He didn’t have time for them. They weren’t his to have, not right now, not with Rogue standing in front of him. “Rogue I’m sorry…” he started, feeling dangerously close to losing his own voice. Damn. His voicebox hurt, his eyes hurt, everything hurt. But it would be manageable. It had to be manageable. “I’m so sorry, Frosch- he-“

“I know you’re keeping it from me.”

Sting blinked. “wh-what?”

“The failsafe. The plan, the cure. You’re keeping the way to stop the shadow. I know you have it.”

Sting’s mouth hung open. He was still talking about that… whatever it was? He watched in sheer disbelief as Rogue shifted away from him and back to exactly what he had been doing before. Tearing apart the office, searching for some meaningless trinket or manuscript that simply didn’t exist. As if he hadn’t said anything at all, as if he hadn’t just let Sting know how much his life had come crashing down around him.

“Rogue… You should sit down…” he said, pulling back one of the chairs.

Rogue shook his head. “I know-You have to know how to get rid of the shadow. Before it takes over again, before anyone else-I can’t let anyone else-I can’t-”

“Rogue,” Sting whispered sharply, but he knew that he was powerless here. He still didn’t know what the ‘failsafe’ or ‘shadow’ were. He didn’t know if it was anywhere near as important as what Rogue was telling him, but he knew nothing in this world could have meant more to him than losing Frosch.

That was something that the shadow dragon slayer was failing to realise. He ignored his strangled breathing. He walked on shaking legs. He caught his tears on his eyelashes and refused to let them fall. And he continued to search. He stormed away from the unwanted conversation, determined to continue pulling apart the office.

Sting could do nothing but let him get it out of his system. Stopping him now wouldn’t help him. It wouldn’t take away an ounce of that pain. It would still be waiting for him on the other side.

Rogue blindly destroyed the room under the premise of searching for the impossible. He was like a man possessed, using his magic when his reach could not yield results. It was unclear where the shadow ended, and the man began. Pictures were ripped from walls, bookcases toppled over to reveal the empty walls. He let the room fall around him in chaos, spreading his red fingerpaint across every nook and cranny.

Sting wasn’t surprised when he heard the scream. That strangled, painfilled scream that only came from losing everything.

Only about five minutes had passed when Rogue fell to the floor, his body finally giving in to the emotional weight. His hands gripped the ground in tight fists. His eyelashes could finally take no more tears, and the first streams running down his cheeks. He punched the ground. Again and again and again while that hollow scream echoed around him. Finally. After everything he’d been through, after all the anger and the pain and bloodshed, there was the weakness.

Sting might not have been surprised, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He no longer saw a reason to hold back his own tears, if only a little. He kept his movements slow and gentle, approaching his friend over the minefield of broken glass and carnage. “Rogue, listen to me…” he began slowly, reaching out to him as he crouched to his side. His hand gently pressed onto Rogue’s back, feeling the grief-stricken ripples through every breath. “I’m… so sorry… We’ll get through this. Together. We’ll get through this, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can…” Sting promised, feeling the pain slipping through his fingertips. He felt like he should have been able to share it, the way they could share their energy and magic, he wanted to take away some of that turbulence inside of his friend’s mind. It wasn’t enough just to have tears at the same time as him. It wasn’t enough to just be able to put a hand on his shoulder and hope for the best. He needed to help him.

“No, I can’t-“

“-Rogue-“

“I can’t stop it,” Rogue whispered, taking in a longer, shaking breath. “I can’t stop it from taking over. I can’t stop it. It’s going to- It’s going to- Sabretooth- Everyone- Everyone-”

“Rogue, calm down...” Sting whispered to him, squeezing his shoulders and gently pulling him closer.

“No, I can’t calm down, I can’t stop!” Rogue insisted, his voice swimming through the confusion of emotions. Even as he sat upright, he couldn’t meet Sting in the eye. “It wasn’t my fault- Avatar they- he- it was him, he did this-”

“Shhh shh shh…” Sting said. Rogue’s tears were all he could see, and he felt the overwhelming urge to brush them all away. His hand rested on his cheek, feeling the sticky heat soaking into his palms.

“You don’t understand. You can’t-! If I calm down the shadow will-I can’t-I can’t let anyone else get hurt-”

“Rogue, look at me,” Sting commanded. His eyes held him captive, stern and kind, the way he’d always wished that a guildmaster could have been towards them. Only when he was certain that he had his undivided attention did he tell him the all-important words. Words that would soon become an unfortunate lie.

“I am… so sorry for what happened to Frosch. I just… I can’t believe it. And I don’t…” he could barely speak. The image of the small and most innocent of exceeds was in his head now. He had seen him only a few short hours ago, just before dusk. He’d spoken to him, wished him all the best… It was too much to process. If he tried, he would have lost all ability to speak. Instead, he shook his head, continuing before he lost all will. “… Rogue, listen. I can’t take back what happened, but I will do everything to make sure it never happens again. Sabretooth is my guild now, under my protection. You are under my protection. That means I won’t let any cult or dark guild or-or- ‘shadow’ risk that. Not because I have a plan or some kind of ‘failsafe’, but because we have to. We have to look after each other. And you and me… we always have, haven’t we?”

The words swelled new tears from Rogue’s eyes. They didn’t seem to be sinking in the way that he’d hoped they would, though. The shadow mage was tense, his face completely drained of all colour, his body weakened. Words of lightness and kindness had no hope of getting through to him, it seemed.

But all of a sudden, Rogue gave a heavy sigh. He leaned forwards until his body lost all balance, falling into Sting’s arms. There was no reason to fight it anymore. No reason to stay upright, no reason to feel anything but darkness. Even so, he let the warming arms of his friend wrap around him. He closed his eyes when he felt a warm breath on his neck as he was held close. He chose to say nothing as Sting continued to tell him over and over again that he would take care of him. That he was so sorry for everything that happened. And that no shadow could harm them.