Cover Girl- Mirajane x Freed

Part 2: Walk With Me

"Good night!"

With a happy smile, belying the dark circles of tiredness beneath her eyes, Mirajane waved goodbye to the last stragglers stumbling drunkenly out of the guild-hall and into the night. She laid the dish-cloth down onto the bar and reached for the keys beneath the counter. They clinked softly, confirming the tired sigh that fell from her lips. From his vantage point, hidden in a dark corner near the entrance, Freed watched quietly as she walked out from behind the bar, winding her way around the tables and benches, one hand gathering her long hair into a ponytail that she twisted into a knot at the base of her skull. Without the aid of pins or elastics, the lustrous length quickly succumbed to gravity; falling down her back in a shining waterfall once again.

She thought she was alone; that everyone had finished their last drinks – after she had cut them off – and gone home to sleep off the effects of the alcohol. He knew he should do something, say something, to announce his presence but he remained still and silent. Something outside his control was keeping him locked in place, watching her carefully as she moved around the large room, wiping at patches of spilled beer, packing away clean glasses, sweeping the floor.

It wasn't right.

Freed frowned. The number of S-class wizards was severely diminished and yet, here was one of their strongest cleaning up after a bunch of lazy drunks. She hummed while she worked; a sweet, soothing melody, almost as if she was aware of his presence and his thoughts and, in her own way, was trying to tell him that it was all right. But it wasn't – he couldn't wrap his mind around it, couldn't begin to understand what drove her. With such power she should be out in the world, taking on the jobs that no one but Gildarts attempted these days. She was smart, she was strong … logically, her ambitions should be far beyond keeping a bar clean and serving drinks to people who, though they loved her, was starting to regard her as a fixture of the guild-hall – another piece of furniture. Solidly, reliably, always there, but not someone to be paid attention to. A grim smile pulled at his lips, it was as if everyone had forgotten, including Mirajane herself.

The legend of the demon lived on but these days it seemed rooted more in fiction than in fact. Most of them had forgotten what she was capable of; so used to sweet, accommodating Mira-chan who was always ready to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on, that it almost seemed laughable to think that she could, if driven to it, be almost as dangerous and frightening as Erza. The problem was, as far as Freed could ascertain, nothing short of the threat of death to those she loved could motivate her to utilize her power.

He shook his head, it baffled him. He couldn't understand her, no matter how he studied her, how he analyzed her, she remained a mystery. Instinctively he knew, there was more to her than this façade she presented – more than just the pretty cover girl who had no desires in life but to keep those around her happy. What did she want for herself? Wasn't there even a shred of feeling inside her that yearned for more? That wanted something for her own sake only; that would take something – anything – simply because she wanted it?

The only conclusion he could draw was startling – frightening.

And he couldn't help but wonder how no one had ever noticed before; how somewhere along the line Mirajane had quietly given up.

Even more frightening – why did he care so much? Why was he driven to try and figure her out, why did it matter so much what choices she made? It was her life, and he had no right to pass judgment on any of her decisions, but, against his will, and without his permission, everything inside him rebelled against it. Screamed that she deserved more, better - if only she would also realize that.

The door creaked open on hinges that badly needed some oil and Mira huffed impatiently but the soft noise yanked him from his dark thoughts. With vague panic he took stock of his surroundings; the lights were all switched off, save the one burning just outside the entrance; everything was clean and neatly stored in its place, ready for the morning. Mirajane herself had gathered her own things, a bag slung over her shoulder and a light sweater hanging over her arm, and she was in the process of locking him inside the guild building for the night. Frantically he wracked his brain for a way to suddenly step out of the shadows and announce his presence without seeming like a crazy person that had been sitting in the dark and staring at her for the last hour.