Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto or any of its characters. However, we do own the OCs--if there are any--and the plot so please no stealing!



Two long days.

The two longest days of Sasuke's life.

It had been two long days since he had last seen the sun, or the grass, or the birds, or…well, anything from the outside, really; evidently, the doctors have deemed him hazardous within a three feet radius to anything sharp or pointy or tall or heavy, not including the table and chairs. They believed that he would once more attempt to take his life should they lead him outside.

They guessed right obviously, though he silently wished they were dumber like the last institution.

Not only had it been the longest days, it had been the most boring ones he had ever lived through. He had nothing to do for two whole days except count the cracks on the tiles and twiddle with his fingers out of extreme tediousness. His brain had gone numb from the boredom, and his eyes had faint bags under them, indicating that he was not sleeping well. How could he? A nurse always passed by his cell with the loud click-clack of her heels, and she would sometimes tap on the window as if she was a little girl, watching an animal on display but was disappointed when she saw that the beast was just lying there, dead-like.

He scowled inwardly. I hope she slips on her shoes.


Sasuke stared at the blonde woman gazing at him kindly, but he could see the frustration in her eyes as she tried to push it down but to no avail.

Her blue eyes blinked at him from across the table; her blonde hair reached her waist, and it was tied in a high ponytail, but her bangs were pushed to the side, covering part of her face. Her clothes were a bit revealing, although she wore a white coat over them so it hid much of her skin; there was a clipboard in her hand, and a pen in her other hand. He didn't see her scribble anything on it except for the date and his name; besides that, the page was blank, for he had not said a thing.

"Sasuke," she began once more. "Are you a mute?"

He said nothing; said person only stared at her with indifferent, crimson eyes. He turned his head to the right to stare at the tiled floor, his arms crossed over his chest rebelliously. Sasuke wondered why they weren't in a more comfortable room with a desk and a computer and a long bed-like chair for him to lay on like in those movies. Instead, he sat in a cold, desolate cell with a glass window, a metal door, and a table and chairs. That was it. No plants to shower the room with nature's glory, no TV to entertain him, no books, no computers, no game systems, no nothing! He inwardly sighed, knowing that the place would bore him to no extent. It would bore him to the point where he would really fall off the edge and go crazy.

Of course, these people—he eyed her irritably—already thought he was crazy.

He was not crazy.

Not. At. All.

Sasuke was perfectly sane, he knew it, and though his adoptive family members and society itself didn't know it, he didn't really care. But seeing as how they had stuck him in a jail for the mentally ill, he was stuck for the next few months listening to them ask him the same questions over and over again.


"Do you understand Japanese?" she asked for—oh, what was it…? Ah yes, the hundredth time.

The dark, brooding, uncaring man did nothing to show her that he understood, or even heard her question for that matter.

He heard the woman—what was her name? Ino, that was it!—sigh depressingly and check her watch. She then stood up and headed for the door, her pen above her right ear and her clipboard underneath her arm. Ino left without another word, much to Sasuke's relief. He watched her through the window as she walked past, saying a few words to a man who stopped her with a smile. He wore such strange clothing, Sasuke mused. They all did really. The man that had just passed her had a bowl-shaped haircut, and was dressed in green, and he had the bushiest eyebrows Sasuke had ever seen! Even his coat was green…which was absurd, for his co-workers all wore white. Was he of a lower rank?


"Wait, what?" Hinata furrowed her brows in confusion; what did Kakashi just say? Did she hear him right? Was she switching patients?

"I want you to concentrate on someone else for the time being." Kakashi repeated, crossing his fingers patiently as he waited for the information to sink in. "Just for a little while, to see how it goes."

"B-but," she protested feebly. "I-I almost have a break-through with K-Kiba." Even as she grew up, she still couldn't get rid of her horrible habit of stuttering, but it wasn't as bad as when she was younger. Nowadays, she only stammered a few times—it wasn't much, but it was a rather large improvement in her eyes.

Kakashi smiled; she could tell because the wrinkles around his eyes lifted upwards, and his eyes squinted a bit. He still wore that ugly black bandana wrapped around part of his face, making him look like a bandit.

"I know," Kakashi said. "And I'm very glad about it, but Sasuke is one of the most recent cases, and I'm changing doctors for him every few days, just to see which one would be best for him."

The young Hyuuga frowned, clearly not liking the idea of leaving Kiba. He had quite a temper, and an inexperienced analyst could get severely injured. Still, if her boss wished it to be, then there was really nothing she could do. And besides that, it was probably her boss's boss—Tsunade-sama's—orders for him to at least attempt at something with the new patient, and if it was Tsunade's orders, then Hinata really couldn't do anything. After all, Tsunade was a stubborn woman—who loved to get drunk and gamble, but we won't go there—and she had quite a wrath, so Hinata was basically helpless.

"It's only for Fridays and Wednesdays," Kakashi began once more. "And I'm sure Inuzuka-kun shall be perfectly fine with Shino during those days."

The information she just received was comforting. Though Shino was rather…odd, he was a kind person—with an abnormal fetish for bugs—and though he was quiet and indifferent about his work, she knew that he actually cared for the people he was assigned to. Not only that, but Kiba had seen and spoken with Shino once or twice before, so he wasn't a complete stranger. But it continued to bother her just a bit…

"So, when will I begin?" Hinata asked, fidgeting with her thumbs—the cursed habit only returned when she felt nervous or unsure.

"Tomorrow," Kakashi replied, sliding a manila folder towards her. "This is the information about him—Sasuke Uchiha."

She nodded, inwardly sighing. The hard part would be explaining to Kiba.

Hinata leaned against the white walls, staring at the ground in deep thought. She had two patients now; more paperwork to deal with. She cheered sarcastically.

She wondered what Sasuke was like and why he was transferred to Konoha Mental Facility; she only scanned the first page of his thick profile but it said that he had first went to Suna Mental Hospital before something had happened and they were forced to send him over to Konoha. She would read it later, Hinata decided; it was too long to read it now, and besides, she had left it in her office.

Hinata gently banged the back of her head on the wall a couple of times. So much work. Now she would be lucky to even get six hours of sleep! Because Kiba was actually agreeing to answer her questions, Hinata had more to write, and thus, more work.

Still, it was better than going home empty-handed; after all, the only reason she wanted to be a psychiatrist was to help those in need of help, though sometimes her job was a bit too extreme and challenging for her.

Hinata spotted Ino walking out of the lounge; she quickly ran up to her. "Ino, how did it go?"

"How did what go?" Ino inquired, raising a brow. The two of them headed down the hall, walking in the direction of the east wing; the cafeteria was that way, and it was their turn to keep a watch on the patients, especially the cutters—like Temari.

"Didn't you just c-come from Naruto's room?"

Ino shook her head. "No, I had Sasuke Uchiha as my patient since this morning." She rubbed her temples in exhaustion. "You wouldn't believe how uncooperative he is!"

Hinata made a face, not liking the news. She never liked working with the stubborn patients, though Kiba was like that for three whole months; a lot of the patients there at Konoha were unwilling to collaborate with the staff. She hated trying to break the thick shields; that was the hardest part of her job—well, that and the tons of paperwork she had to do. Though breaking through was the most difficult, it was also the most important.

"Is he l-like Temari?" Hinata questioned; Temari was probably the most stressful patient Hinata ever had. Temari was a violent woman, and unfortunately for Hinata, she was her first patient when Hinata was accepted as one of the doctors of Konoha Mental Facility. Needless to say, Kakashi had had to swap her with Rock Lee—he didn't do a great job either, but at least he wasn't stabbed with a pen like she was…

"Ugh, worse!" Ino grimaced. "The guy won't even answer my questions, and not only that but he practically ignores my very existence! It's like talking to a wall!" she complained—very loudly at that; a few heads turned towards them in curiosity.

"Except in this case, the wall is totally aggravating…" the blonde muttered, pushing through the double doors of the cafeteria. She spotted a familiar pink head and waved enthusiastically at her.

Turning to Hinata, Ino said, "I'll talk to you later, Hinata."

"Wait, are you still his doctor?" Hinata asked.

Ino shook her head thankfully, allowing a tired but pleased smile. "Thank goodness I'm not; Kakashi-sensei only assigned me a day to Sasuke. I feel sorry for the poor sap that's going to be stuck with him."

Hinata sighed as Ino walked off, heading towards her friend. She was too far away to hear the purple haired woman whisper, "Me too."

Another one… Sasuke privately frowned as he stared at the woman opposite of him.

"Is there anything you would like to say, Uchiha-kun?" Sakura asked politely.

Just like the last woman, the pink haired doctor had a clipboard and a pen and a white coat. They reminded him a little bit of an army; all dressed up and rearing to go, clad in a white coat and armed with a clipboard and a writing utensil. Perfect little minions for taking over the world psychologically! Sasuke mentally snorted at the thought of the fragile-looking pink headed lady in front of him holding a gun or a sword or a pen and attempting to kill another with it.

"Uchiha-kun?" her annoying voice broke his thoughts.

Oh how he longed to wring their necks to stop their irritable questions.

Infuriating psychiatrists…

Really, was there no way for him to be at peace?


Apparently not…

"Can you understand Japanese?" she asked slowly, pronouncing the words as clearly as she could. He was getting tired of the questions, the same questions every person asked him, therapist or not. If only they didn't confiscate the spare knife he had…Sasuke figured that fate must really love watching him despair.

Her voice was so high pitched; he imagined her as a pig out of boredom. It almost brought a smile to his lips.


"Uchiha-kun?" She leaned towards him, staring at his unresponsive, pale face. With her eyes, she traced the curve of his lips, and his pointed nose, and his crimson eyes with a rapid heart. Of course, if he wasn't mentally ill, she would've totally dated him. But the fact was, he was mental and there was nothing she could do about it if he did not want to talk. She silently wondered why she decided to be a therapist.

He could practically smell the strong perfume that was emitting from Sakura; he nearly gagged on the powerful scent. It didn't smell all that great...she must've been ripped off. At that moment, Sasuke hoped that she was going to leave sometime soon—the smell was unbearable, he was surprised that he didn't noticed it until then!—but it didn't seem like she would. It was just something in his gut telling him that it was going to be a long day.

Smelly freak…

"I'm here to help you, Sasuke—is it okay if I call you that?" Sakura said, trying to pretend to be his friend, like all of the other losers in the building. They didn't really care about him; they just wanted their paycheck. Well fine, Sasuke didn't care about them either, and he didn't care if he bothered them with his silence, and it didn't bother him in the least bit knowing that he was causing trouble for them and their boss and their boss's boss. It brought him pride to be frank. Not happiness though.

Never happiness.

The only time he found happiness was when he was about to leap from a twenty foot building, or something along those lines. The only time when he felt real joy was when he was pressing the blade of a knife to his neck. Those moments were only his, his personal memories, the only time when he actually felt free, when he felt as though there was nothing weighing him down. Holding a knife against his neck, against his arm, he knew that it was him—he himself—who was holding the sharp edge against his skin, and not anyone else. Only at that time did he truly feel like he was Sasuke Uchiha, not his grandmother's perfect little boy, not the man that people congratulated when he won an award or anything else that was just as insignificant.

When he was suicidal, ironically, it was the only time that he was not depressed, the only time that he was not pressured from his peers or family members.

They didn't understand that when they pat him on the back and smile at him, telling him he did a job well done, it wasn't him they were talking to. They couldn't even begin to comprehend that they weren't talking to Sasuke; they were talking to an Uchiha, they were talking to his grandmother's prodigy, his grandfather's source of joy, his family's pride. But they weren't talking to him, because they didn't know him. They knew his achievements, they knew his reputation, but they didn't know him.

He was all alone. Friendless, lonely, and now his moments of bliss were gone.

They were cruelly snatched away from him by people who thought he was crazy because he wanted to feel ecstasy.

Snatched away by people who did not understand.

And again, there, sitting right in front of him, was a woman who did not understand, a woman who asked questions to try to grasp what was his "problem" but could never really get the picture. Why? Because she was the problem. She and her little friends in white.

"Sasuke? Don't you want to be helped?" Sakura inquired, flashing a small smile to try and encourage Sasuke to open up and step out of his shell. It only served to push him farther into his cave of silence.

Sasuke mentally answered her question, the same mental answer he gave to everyone who asked him.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be happy.

Ino was right, She let out a soft sigh, slumping against the chair. This guy is an aggravating wall!

"I'm your friend, Sasuke," Sakura tried once more, though with no success.

Friends don't let friends rot in a cage.

"I won't hurt you, Sasuke."

That's exactly why you have an endless amount of needles hiding somewhere just out of reach.

She tried a slightly different approach. "I want you to be discharged, too; but you can't leave unless you get better."

There was that ugly little phrase.

"You can't leave until you get better."

"You can't go anywhere unless you get better."

"The only way is to get better."

"You must get better!"

"For the sake of the family, get better!"

Why did they say he had to get better?

Why did they all think there was something wrong with him?

Why did they all insist he needed help?

There was nothing wrong with him; he had spent hours observing his adopted family, and he had spent days watching people his own age. Where was the difference? He couldn't find it; in the style of clothing? Was it in the way the way he dressed or spoke that was different? Or maybe they thought he was different because he had been caught multiple times in his happy moment.

They were all so nosy…

Especially the pink haired one, who still would not stop talking!

"Sasuke, please say something," she said softly. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

Everyone claimed he needed professional help, but who said he ever wanted the help? It was pointless if he didn't want to be assisted, and he didn't, because there was nothing wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with wanting happiness, and Sasuke stood firmly beside that thought as he ignored the annoying woman who wanted to "lend a hand to a person in need."

The only need he had was to leave and never come back.

Sasuke lied on the cold hard floor; all he had was a pillow and a flimsy blanket, and the chill concrete to aid him to sleep.


And there was that annoying nurse again, making her rounds.


And once more, she was tapping on the window.

Moron, Sasuke scowled as he turned to face the nurse, glaring at her through the darkness. She shined her flashlight upon Sasuke's face and was taken back to see him glaring so intensely at her.

If looks could kill…

As she walked away, Sasuke imagined her tripping on her heels—which were probably pink—and falling and screaming out; it brought much satisfaction knowing that the thought was likely to happen. Those shoes were hazardous to people's health. He witnessed it first hand; his step-sister, Karin, broke her legs and her left arm tripping while wearing them.

Sasuke turned to face the ceiling—or where he supposed the ceiling was. Black blankets engulfed him, and silence threatened to eat away at his very mind. Sasuke never liked it when it was too silent; at his house, there was always something making noise—his grandmother's yells, his grandfather's snores, the younger children playing pretend, or his sisters' or brothers' gossips, but always something or someone. Occasionally, the wind rustled the trees to provide a background noise for Sasuke, but now that he was in a white jail, there was nothing but his breathing. Mother Nature was blocked out by the thick walls that caged him.

He silently wondered how the older patients managed to survive being in such a quiet place.

Sasuke was not able to go out to the commons to eat for he was still "unstable" as the doctors had so kindly put it. So, because he could not eat with the others, he had to resort to wait for one of the nurses to come, open the large door—that did not even creak or budge, much to his dismay—and push a bowl of soup or a sandwich—or whatever disgusting breakfast they had planned for him—towards him, though he never ate it, unless it looked edible…like the sandwich that they gave him yesterday morning.

He was not as lucky as yesterday though.

Today, he had happened to receive soup from the people.

Soup that had a black thing lying dead center right in the bowl.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the black dot drifting in his breakfast—it looked a lot like a fly.

They wouldn't be as careless as to place a fly in his soup and not notice a thing, would they?

It suddenly flew out of the bowl and around his head a few times and then dived right back into his food.

Sasuke pushed the bowl away.

I just lost my appetite…

Hinata stared at the metal door in front of her, unsure of whether to enter. She stared down at the clipboard and purple pen in her hand. Then she looked down at herself; a lavender shirt and black skirt, and then a white coat over it—her uniform. Hinata glanced at her Tinkerbell watch; it said: 9:17; she had until six o'clock to attempt to get at least a peep out of him.

I might as well see what I can do. Hinata thought with a nervous frown; she anxiously bit her bottom lip as she placed a hand on the silver handle, turning it and then pushing her weight against the door, willing it to budge.

She peeked inside the room.