Fairy Tail Mental Hospital

Chapter Seven

"Hmm..." A lady at her desk hummed, while flipping through a book of papers and notes, "He should have been here by now. Maybe he got lost on his way..." Checking the clock, he was nearly 30 minutes late.

She stood up, straightening her skirt and fixing her long green hair, and exited her office, book still in hand. As she walked down the halls and up a set of stairs, she smiled while passing a few of her patients. They were very precious to her, and she thought of them as her own children, even if some of them would rather be without her...Or thought she was a nuisance.

She approached his room, the only one without a painting by the door, and knocked.

No response.

She knocked again. Did he fall asleep? She thought, and with a quick, "I'm coming in." She opened the doors to a horrific sight.

His hands were burned badly. Natsu's left hand was completely red, and covered in blisters. His right was the same, but bloody and stiffened in the form of a fist. His face stained with dried tears.

"Natsu!" She yelled in shock as she approached his bed. He laid their out cold, a pained expression on his face, "Oh my gosh-What did you do to yourself?!" It wasn't as if she hasn't seen something like this before, but that doesn't mean it surprises her any less.

She checked his pulse and breathing, they were steady. He's only asleep, she sighed with relief. It could have been much worse. She's seen much worse.

"Elfman, Elfman." She called into her walkie-talkie, waiting not-so-patiently for him to pick up, this was an emergency.

"Yeah Bisca, what's up?" He asked, nonchalantly.

"I need you to get to the second floor A.S.A.P. Natsu Dragneel's room. Doors open, can't miss it."

"Alright, I'm on my way. What's the problem?"

"I'll explain when you get here."

xXxXxXxXx

"Oh hello, Sting! Nice to see you here again." Makarov smiled as he greeted one of they're most frequent visitors. "I assume you're here for Rogue."

"Yeah," he smiled in greeting, "It's alright if I just go up on my own, right?" Normally, Sting was the only guest, or one of few, that could visit the third floor without supervision. It was a special circumstance, so they allowed him to.

He was like they're translator with Rogue. Sting was the only one the patient trusted, and one of the only people he would even talk to. So he told Sting his personal problems, or requests, and the blonde would relay them to Rogue's counselor.

"Actually," Makarov paused, and Sting haulted before exiting the main office and into the hallway, "Something happened today that you should know about."

Sting turned around and was gestured to enter Makarov's office.

"So..." Makarov sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down, "'Future' Rogue got out today again."

"Oh." Replied Sting, a sad expression forming on his normally joyful face. Whenever this happens, Rogue never wants to talk...his depression worsens.