Chapter One: Worst Nightmares
Life's filled with trauma. You don't need to go to war to find it; it's going to find you. - Sebastian Junger
Lucy knew the nightmare by smell. The smell of green, freshly cut flowers always hung thicker when dirtied by imported cigars and liquor. It didn't matter how pretty a picture was - how innocent the sight of daisies on the windowsill of her father's office may have looked to an outsider. She could smell him, and she knew in that moment she'd wake up screaming. She'd long ago resigned herself to these nightmares. She no longer actively attempted an escape during the night. She just took the abuse, took the insults and the cuts and the hits and waited for morning to come. And as she felt her father's tears on her forehead - so ashamed of his humanity he made himself a monster - she knew she'd wake up covered in a reminiscent cold sweat. It was routine. It was usual. It was ordinary.
When she woke up to the jarring sound of her own screams - promptly, at four a.m. - she sighed and tried to get some sleep, naturally failing miserably. When she heard her blaring alarm at six a.m., she sat straight up in bed and stared at the blank white wall in front of her. Boring. Mundane. Typical. Of course, she couldn't have imagined as she showered, put on a well-fitting blouse and pencil skirt, and made her way to the sanatorium with the same, unrelenting purpose in her step she had the day before, that this day was anything but ordinary. But you see, this day was not just another day of blonde hair swishing as she made her way up foreboding marble steps or demure pink lips glimmering as she dodged her co-worker's advances with a mask and a smile none could decipher. This was the day he became her patient - the day her life completely changed in ways that thrilled and chilled her down to her very core, forever.
Lucy opened her locker and replaced her lab coat with her purse, putting the coat on and checking herself in her mirror to ensure she looked presentable. She smirked and thought to herself "Keeping it together never looked so good, huh, dad?" She slammed the door of her locker with all the strength she could muster and heard her mirror clatter against its metal, shattering against the impact. Lucy winced slightly at the sound of broken glass but continued to walk away from her locker. She wasn't in the mood to piece together anything else broken this morning - this was clearly a job for future Lucy. Present Lucy had enough to deal with, which was made all too abundantly clear when she skimmed her newest patient's file.
Etherious N. Dragneel: a philanthropist turned murderer so suddenly, the court opted to uphold his insanity plea rather than send him to the chair. She grimaced. It was all a code. "Philanthropist" meant "rich benefactor" and "insanity plea" meant "got caught with his hand in the cookie jar." She was sick of the corrupt politicians in Magnolia using "insanity" as an excuse to get away with murder. She felt like a conspirator in their plots and nothing was more revolting to her.
I know, right? Ugh, GOD, they never murder for the right reasons, huh sug?
Lucy froze as she heard that voice rear out of its drug-induced haze. She cursed herself. As the epitome of irony itself, Lucy Heartfillia was the only employee at Rainbow Blossom Sanatorium with a psychiatric disorder of her own. Her lesser half - a persona she vowed to never name - made her a regular freak show; someone who could relate to the inmates and make them feel safe in her empathy. It gave her a unique set of advantages over her peers, but it made certain aspects of her job difficult - especially when her lesser half decided she wanted to "come out and play" during the middle of a session. Lucy reached into her lab coat and withdrew a medication bottle with her new antipsychotics in it. She gulped two down dry and hoped they would last her through this session. The medication was experimental and temperamental, but surely two pills would be enough to suppress her alter ego while she wrestled with the inner demons of this convict.
She steeled her shoulders and opened the door of room 307. It was just like every other therapy room. Sickly green tile was interspersed with cream and intestinal pink tiles from the floor to bottom of the windowsill standing directly opposite the door. The uncovered walls were painted a light green in a half-hearted attempt to brighten the room, which gave the entire room the distinct glow of fresh ectoplasm. The window was barred, and even though there were dirtied curtains drawn in an attempt to hide this, the bars remained resolute as perfectly visible shadows against the brightness of the early morning sun. In the center of the room, there was a metal table bolted to the floor. And there, with his hands handcuffed and folded neatly on the table, was her patient. Her first impressions of his appearance were disjunct from his file - the pink hair, devil-may-care smirk and intricately tattooed, muscular physique in front of her didn't match the over-privileged, white-collar-crime-lord she'd pictured in the slightest. But when his dark eyes locked on hers and his smirk grew large enough to show his prominent canines, she had no doubt the man in front of her was capable of murder.
"Good morning, Mr. Dragneel. My name is Dr. Heartfillia and I'll be your psychiatrist until the courts decide otherwise." She pulled out the chair opposite him and took note of the orderlies standing on either side of her patient. For someone who'd committed murder, she thought he'd warrant more intimidating guards - not that Jet and Droy weren't skilled in their own right. No, she just doubted that if Mr. Dragneel truly wished to escape from them they'd actually be able to do anything about it. As she sat down, she noticed that her patient's skin didn't glow with a sickening pallor despite the fluorescent lighting. He was the first person she'd encountered who looked alive beneath the therapy room lights. In fact, upon closer inspection of his tattoos, it almost looked as if the flames were coming to life under the fluoresce.
"Nice to see you again, Lucy," her patient responded smugly. Stunned, she looked up at him again, wondering if there was something she'd missed in his face - something familiar. He grinned so that his smile took up his entire face and she was transported back to a different time when that smile gave her a reason for living.
Pink hair, devilish grin, dark eyes she drowned in…yes, this was unmistakably "Natsu…" she breathed.
He barked a laugh, "What're the odds, huh? Didn't think I'd ever see you again…it's been what…five years?"
"Six," she breathed, disbelieving, "it's been six years now…" There were so many questions running through her mind. What the hell happened to him? Why did he drop contact with her? After everything - how could he be reduced to this? But she asked none of those questions. She centered herself and adapted to the new situation, just like her training had taught her, and instead inquired, "You changed your name?"
Natsu smirked, "Really? That's your first question? All right, I'll bite, yeah I did change my name - it was bugging me."
"Why?"
"Reminded me of Igneel."
"Oh…" Igneel was Natsu's uncle turned father after a fatal laboratory explosion made Natsu an orphan before he was old enough to recall his mother's embrace. Igneel had taken Natsu under his wing, been the paternal figure he so desperately needed, but he disappeared not long after Natsu's seventh birthday. It had been Natsu's dream to find Igneel that had taken him from Lucy in the first place. She'd always assumed he'd died. Apparently, she was wrong. "What happened?"
Natsu stiffened and his eyes flashed with something Lucy didn't recognize. His knuckles clenched and his lip curled in a snarl, "I don't talk about it."
Lucy smirked, "You will."
"Like hell."
Lucy gave him a tight-lipped smile, "Whether you like it or not, Mr. Dragneel," he blinked, startled by her sudden professionalism, "I'm your psychiatrist now. Since I was assigned to you by the courts, I have to report your progress to your prosecutor - and I'm sure you're very well aware that she'd like nothing better than watching you fry.
"Since I'm the only one standing between you and 2,000 volts of electricity, it's in your best interest to talk about it." Her eyes flashed dangerously, "Plus, you don't get to make any excuses after dumping me for six years. You will give me answers, Natsu Dragneel."
"It's Etherious, now. Natsu is dead." Natsu's eyes hardened at his declaration. He seemed to truly believe that the part of himself Lucy loved and waited for - the Natsu she would have died for without a second thought - was gone forever. But behind the facade and the new tattoos and the added sinew to his arms, Lucy knew that her Natsu was still there if only buried just beneath the surface, somewhere in his subconscious. In that moment, she resolved herself to bring him back, no matter the personal cost.
Lucy opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the unwanted sentiments of an unappreciated observer. Bring him back, sug. I don't like seeing him like this…that boy's too good, ya know?
Surprised, to say the least by her alter ego's sudden appearance, her reply was choked by a sharp intake of breath, marking her shock for everyone else in the room.
Only then did she take stock of Jet and Droy. Their faces were drawn up in a mixture of surprise and worry and their hands were on their belts, all too prepared to tase the inmate if Lucy got too uncomfortable - protocol be damned. Lucy quickly pulled herself together with a slight cough, "Well, sorry, Etherious, but I believe Natsu has the right to decide his own fate." She stood from the table, leaning over it with her hands flat against its surface, "And I'll be damned if I let you take that away from him."
Etherious glared at Lucy with unadulterated hatred burning at his irises. She felt a sudden flash of sympathy flood her mind, and with it, the strangled cry of her alter ego came crashing into her consciousness like a hurricane Oh, puddin'…sug, I never ask you for nothing - but ya gotta help him! He's too good…too good, too good, too good…
Lucy began to feel the voice overwhelm her senses. She slowly felt her body surrender to its will, but before she lost complete control, she ground her left heel into her right foot, effectively bringing her back into the moment without drawing unwanted concern from the orderlies. She quickly raised to her full height and turned so she was facing the door of the therapy room. She forced her tone to reflect nonchalance and said, "This meeting has been quite enlightening. I don't think I need the full hour to evaluate the patient." She addressed Jet and Droy in a lower voice, "Levy will have my treatment plan by lunchtime at the latest - see to it that he's made docile in the meantime." Lucy needed a calm Etherious if she was going to get anywhere with him - a mild sedative would definitely do the trick until she learned more about the inner workings of Natsu's darker side. She straightened her shoulders and clacked out of the room, but as she opened the door, she couldn't seem to help herself from turning her head over her shoulder and calling out with a light smile, "I'm all fired up!" Before she left the room oblivious to the surprised looks that followed her.
She didn't hear Etherious' gasp of surprise and soft whisper of "Luce…" that confirmed everything she knew; the Natsu she loved was alive and well and Lucy, regardless of the pain it would cause her, was the only one who could free his heart from the evil banishing him to the shadows.
