"My father is dead...?" Natsu mumbled, losing all focus and concentration. His world started to spin as he stopped walking, trying to grasp onto the news.

"If you're not capable of taking the case, I'll ask Rufus," Sting added, patting his partners back gently. He had known Natsu's dad hasn't been around for a long time, so it didn't surprise him that Natsu had thought of him dead before then.

"No, I can handle this... Let's go see the crime scenes." Once Natsu started walking again, he was slow and distant, almost like a robot. Narrowing his eyes, Sting nodded and walked with Natsu to the crime scene.

"We're here," Sting started, pointing at the outline of where the investigators found the body. He looked around the small apartment as Natsu stared at the lines.

'If I was going to kill someone... Would I shoot them unexpectedly, or attack them in their own home?' he asked himself, looking through the file once more, to see how he had died. 'Pierced from behind. That doesn't explain the broken windows.'

"Natsu, can you go ask the neighbors if they ever remember anything happening over here the night of his death?" Sting asked, looking over to see Natsu slowly nodding and walking out of the room.

When the salmon-haired male came back, he said that they didn't hear anything, just like they did everyday. There was never a sound in this apartment. If there was, it was silenced.

Sting nodded, giving him a short 'thank you'. He went back to the front door and puts himself in the shoes of the killer. 'He sneaks into the house, and as Igneel just so happens to be turned away from him, he gets stabbed in the back and the window is broken. That doesn't add up.'

Searching through the file, he looked for the autopsy report without any luck. "Can you stay here while I go back for the report?" he asked Natsu, hoping that if he said yes, he would be alright.

Earning a short nod from his partner, Sting left the scene and ran back to the office to find the papers. Meanwhile, Natsu sat down in front of where his father used to be and mumbled; "You said you'd come back. You said I would see you again. You promised. Why'd you break your promise?"

Crying alone in a room where someone was murdered isn't as fun as anyone planned it'd be, but it happened nonetheless. When Sting returned, Natsu was in the same spot he was before. He sighed out and scanned the file, which now included the autopsy.

'He was struck at a forty-five degree angle, and he fell backwards. Meaning the killer must've crashed in here through the window, stabbed Igneel, and went right back out were he came from. That also implies that this man would be about my height, considering the angle and Igneel's height.'

He groaned in frustration once more, now he knew how the killer came in and murdered his victim, but there's nothing that could lead him to his identity. "Where's the next killing?" he mumbled as he walked past Natsu as he started to leave.

"Three blocks due east," his partner answered, seeming to have finally overcome his trauma. "Then what're we waiting for? Let's go!"

Upon arriving at the place of which Metallicana Redfox had been killed, Sting and Natsu had realized people lived here. There was awkward silence between the homeowners and the detectives after they had asked to examine the scene, but it was as if these people didn't know of the murder.

Exchanging a confused look, the two apologized quickly and left. They stood outside on the sidewalk, thinking quietly. "How come they didn't know? Wait, why were they living there after such a recent murder in the first place?" Natsu asked, scratching his neck and yawning.

"That's a good question, I don't know. Maybe there's more to these murders than we thought," Sting answered, yawning just after Natsu did. There was silence between them once more, until one of them spoke up and said, "Wanna get doughnuts?"

It wasn't until much later that Sting was allowed to go home for the night. When he boarded the train, there were no open seats - as usual - leaving him to scowl and stand. He didn't pay attention to anyone else as they got on, only focused on getting home in time to medicate his father.

Until, a black haired male stepped on at the last second, just before the doors closed. He looked rushed and in a hurry, but certainly good looking either way. He stood near Sting and sighed out in what seemed like relief.

A few stops later, he moved closer to Sting as another person stood beside him. He looked at him, studying his face, before outstretching his hand. "I'm Rogue." It was sudden, but Sting shook hands with him.

"Sting. Nice to meet you," he said as he shifted his attention to Rogue, smiling softly in politeness. "I think you'd be a good friend, so I'd like to get to know you. Someone close to me told me to make friends, so you're the lucky winner, I guess," he mumbled, a little embarrased.

Sting couldn't help but laugh, "Not many people would consider me a good friend, but alright, I'm fine with that." Despite the depressed and almost emo look that Rogue gives off, he could've sworn that he saw his dull eyes light up in happiness. "Really? Ahh, thanks. I'd be dead meat if you'd said no," he smiled faintly.

The two conversed in a very friendly manner until both of them stated that theirs was the next stop, which made the two chuckle softly. Sadly, they went opposite directions after getting off the train.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sting."

"You too, Rogue."

Once inside his apartment, Sting reluctantly smiled brightly as he made his way to his fathers room. As he gave him his medicine, he told him about his day as usual. But when he talked about Rogue, he sounded so into it, like he really enjoyed being around him.

"I think he'll be a great friend, don't you, Dad?" he asked, even though he knew his father wouldn't answer.

This time, the nightmares of worrying didn't visit Sting. He slept easy for the first time in seven years.