Deidara was an innocent man. Of that much, Sasori was sure. The problem was that nobody else believed him. Not even the accused.

"Deidara, tell me the details of that day again," Sasori requested, tapping his pen against the metal table that resided between him and his client.

The blonde looked up at him, blue eyes sullen and disheartened, "I've told you a million times already, un."

Sasori sighed, sitting back in his chair and pulling his suit jacket tighter around himself. For some reason he couldn't fathom, the jail was always cold. It was as if the inmates didn't suffer enough, he thought.

"I know you have, but I just feel like there's something missing." He replied quietly, ruffling his red hair lightly.

"I don't know what else you want me to say," Deidara whined, "I broke into his house and I killed him. End of story."

"But why?" The psychologist emphasized, his desperation almost breaking through in his tone.

There was a long moment of silence where Deidara refused to meet his eyes. His hands fidgeted in his lap as he played with the hem on his orange shirt. He smoothed out the creases in his orange pants and seemed to do everything else he could think of, rather than looking up.

Finally, he took a deep breath and muttered the answer into his lap, "The why doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm guilty."

Their conversations had been going on like this for months. Deidara had pleaded guilty in his court case and been taken to jail. However, the investigation continued and now suspicions were arising that maybe he wasn't guilty after all. Of course, Sasori had always been convinced of the boy's innocence, but that didn't seem to matter.

Ever since Deidara had learned that he was to be let out temporarily (if being under house arrest really was considered being released, anyways), he began to fight more and became even more insistent about his guilty verdict.

"But the investigation is starting to prove that you're not." Sasori countered, watching the reaction of his client closely.

Deidara growled, a slightly desperate expression flaring in his eyes, "It can't prove something that isn't true. Why is it so hard to believe? I killed him. I did it. I killed him. Will you believe me if I say it more?"

"I will believe it," Sasori stated matter-of-factly, "When I have proof that you did it."

"They found me at the scene of the crime! They caught me covered in his blood! That's not proof enough?" Deidara was standing now, pacing back and forth in the small room they were confined in. "They found the murder weapon on my person!"

"No," Sasori smiled slightly, shaking his head, "That's not proof enough. Haven't you heard of framing? Or being at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Deidara slammed his hands against the metal table that rested between them, the action not even making Sasori flinch, "Framing? They dragged me in there, covered me in his blood, planted the murder weapon on me and left me, hoping I wouldn't run?" A bitter laugh escaped him briefly, "Do you really find that likely?"

"More likely than you being a murderer, yes."

Thos words shut Deidara up instantly. He stared defiantly at the psychologist before him, not really sure how to reply. He couldn't fathom why Sasori was so persistent in his belief of innocence. He had straight up admitted, multiple times, that he was a murderer. How was that not enough?

"You can believe whatever you want. But the investigation will stop anyways. I'm guilty."

Sasori chuckled a little, standing from the metal chair that he had been residing in, "We'll see about that, won't we?"

With those words, he clasped his briefcase firmly in his hand and exited the room. Once the metal door shut, Deidara collapsed onto the ground, clutching his head in his hands.

"Why…?" He mumbled to himself, his voice weak, "Why doesn't he believe me?"

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he thought about it. Sasori had been insisting for nearly a month now that he was innocent, that he should be free. But he shouldn't- no, couldn't ever be free.

A moment later, the metal door slammed open again. A guard walked in and wordlessly lifted the convict to his feet. Without so much as a fight, the blonde followed the guard out the door and down the hall. They passed rows and rows of cells as they walked. None of the other inmates even looked up from their doings as they passed.

The guard stopped abruptly, opening a cell door and stepping aside. Deidara walked into the small room, allowing the guard to shut the gated door behind him and lock it again. With a sigh he walked over to the small cot that they called a bed and dropped down on it.

"Tomorrow's the day, yeah…" He muttered to himself.

That was it. Tomorrow he would be released to house arrest. Tomorrow he would be taken out of this hell and put into another one. Tomorrow was the start of the end for him.