Jellal had never been partial to the sickly sweet, disinfectant smell of hospitals. The white-washed walls, the narrow halls, the beeping of machines, the hushed whispers of doctors, the cries of dying patients, the cries of joyful mothers.

He is well aware of the murmuring the minute he enters the facility and passes the cramped waiting room; his lengthy cloak and gleaming Fairy Tail mark are out of place, here, in this haven for the hopeless.

Jellal knows his way around this hospital; he knows the morning and night staff, the window washers, the nurses. Most of all, he knows the patients of Floor 7.

There were Amara and Cynthia, Florence and Rin, Tian and...

"Erza," Jellal says, smiling as brightly as he can.

The former Fairy Tail mage sits on her bed, her back to him as she takes in as much of the world as she can from through the window.

She is restless, he can tell, just a shell of her former self.

"Erza, how are you feeling today?" he asks, quietly closing the door behind him.

She looks over her shoulder, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide with curiosity. The sight is familiar to Jellal.

"I'm so sorry...Who are you?"

"Jellal Fernandes. A...friend."

"Oh, yes," Erza replies, "I remember now."

He knows she does not remember.