I am so sorry this chapter came late. Due to my mood, I've recently stopped most of my stories for lack of motivation. Hopefully posting this will get me out of my funk. It's been written for about a month or two at most, I can't remember when I posted the second one.

Also, I received a review that said schizophrenia isn't what Kimimaro would be mistaken for. In fact, it would be a depersonalization disorder. I went back and double-checked, and found I had made a mistake, only focusing on one symptom and. Well, let's not explain it, because those are excuses when it comes right down to it.

I made a mistake, plain and simple.

If I were to go back and fix it, it would take some time (probably an eternity knowing my tendency to procrastinate). I'll try to go back and fix it, but I can't make any promises. So, just in case I wind up never fixing it, I decided to make sure everyone knows he'd be mistaken for a depersonalization disorder. (Sorry Orochimaru, your stupidity is my stupidity now. Har har. And Kabuto… I just don't like you, you silver-haired pain in the butt.)

Anyway, the dialogue seems a bit stiff in this chapter, so I apologize for that.

I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. (It's not too "intimate," but whatever. That will come in due time.)

And remember:

Kimimaro was mistaken for a depersonalization disorder. Not schizophrenia.
(Where's flashing text when you need it?)

Alive
Chapter 3 – A Strange Sort of Intimacy

Kimimaro opened his eyes when the clock struck nine in the morning, right on cue. It was his morning routine. Getting out of bed; breakfast; wandering the halls; lunch; medicine; a meeting with Doctor Kabuto about his progress; common room; dinner; common room; lights out; silent, unsleeping meditation until morning: He had the schedule down precisely to the very minute. His new room around the corner–from Ward C to Ward B where Doctor Kabuto's office was located–had changed his schedule so he now woke up at nine instead of the usual eight, but everything was still in order.

As he made his way down grubby halls, he leaned against the wall. He'd been feeling weaker as of late, and he had no idea why. Perhaps he'd been correct in his assumption that his body was decomposing quicker than he thought before. That would explain why his legs felt as if they didn't want to hold him up any longer–the bones were deteriorating. His cheek brushed against the cool wall and he closed his eyes as he walked, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Stiffly, he neared the lunch room, placing a hand against the window of the nurse's station as he passed it. Warm oatmeal was already sitting out for him as he slid into his seat, but it was unappealing. The stench of cinnamon drifted into his nostrils, and he turned toward the nurse's station to see Nurse Shizuku, a big, motherly nurse that had a big smile and a big heart, staring at him with hopeful eyes.

He couldn't help but find the entire thing almost amusing.

They were trying so hard to make him hungry, weren't they? It was impossible, of course, but the sentiment was not unnoticed, at least.

Picking up the spoon, he turned his eyes back to the oatmeal and swirled it around idly, watching the milk rise up from the top and wet the drier parts exposed to the air. He pressed down the remaining drier parts and watched them expand back out, glistening. He placed the spoon against the side of the bowl, both hands rising to lie against the table, and sighed bitterly, tiredly.

Mere centimeters before his hands hit the tabletop, a nurse walked in and placed a tray of bacon and eggs at the spot across the table from him. He withdrew his hands immediately, eyes widening just slightly. It had been one weeksince the new patient had that attack and lashed out at Sakon, but it seemed he wanted to come back out of hiding, thus…

…Juugo was going to be eating with him again.

One hand retracted to his lap and the other instinctively went for his spoon.

Sure enough, Juugo walked in and took the spot across the table from him, immediately throwing the food to the ground at the sight of what was there on the plate. Kimimaro's eyes blinked instinctively at the loud noise as the plastic plate clattered against the floor, making loud "wahh-wahh-wahh"s against the dirty tiles as it slowed to a stop.

"I'll have what he has," Juugo muttered to the nurse as he stared down at Kimimaro's oatmeal. "I refuse to eat eggs or meat."

The nurse looked him up and down, obviously taking his size into account. "Are you…sure?"

He turned to the nurse, eyes glinting. "Didn't my mother tell you I'm vegan…? Or did the remnants of meat from all of my previous meals and the uneaten chicken soup at the door to my room not clue you into that?" He snapped, but it seemed he was disgruntled for reasons other than the meal set before him. "…Are you stupid or do you just refuse to accept that I don't eat meat?"

The nurse flinched, much more visibly than Kimimaro could ever hope to, and spun on her heels, dashing out of the room as fast as she could. Despite the fact that Juugo had been angry, he looked strangely relieved when she left the room. After his brief moment of relief, he slumped into his chair and stared at the food on the ground. Groaning, he grimaced and put a hand to his forehead.

"God damn it… Bacon and eggs is my mother's favorite," he moaned, wiping a hand through his hair as he started to sweat a bit.

Looking him over more thoroughly now, Kimimaro could see Juugo was of a different world than him entirely–he looked a lot like his own father in terms of stockiness, only much, much taller and much more muscular. His face was still young, and his hair stuck up at odd angles, like he'd made a habit out of leaving it like it was when he got up in the morning. He looked like a typical jock, and the sight brought back memories of accusing looks and muttered jeers. Still, there was something decidedly different about Juugo from all of those like the older teen he'd met in the brief years he'd been in high school. There was no confidence, forced or otherwise, like he saw in the jocks at school. Instead, he merely seemed conflicted.

Presently, Juugo shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, towards the cameras in the corners. "I just wasted all of that food…"

Before Juugo could continue his self-pitying rant, Kimimaro slid his bowl over toward the older teen. "Have mine, then. I won't be eating it."

"I can't," he sighed. "It wouldn't be right. You need to eat it."

"I don't need to eat it," Kimimaro pressed. "My teeth and stomach have decomposed; that's why they had to start mashing up my food to begin with, but now it's useless without a stomach."

Juugo's eyes looked him up and down, lingering on his face at the end. He furrowed his eyebrows together sadly, muttering, "You're paler today," under his breath. Kimimaro raised his eyebrows in question, but the orange-haired teen shook his head and looked away to frown. "Last time I checked, teeth don't decompose, and certainly not before the internal organs. And you say you have no stomach, too… If that's the case, then how do you get the energy to move?"

"Sheer will," Kimimaro replied with great conviction.

Juugo scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a small smile, though inside he was more concerned than he should have been. "That's impossible. Not even an athlete can rely on sheer will to cheat death, and that's pretty much all they have on their side sometimes. I mean, if this were life or death you could use that excuse, but this isn't–"

"I'm not cheating death; I am dead. Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"You're very wrong," Juugo replied, looking at what was left of Kimimaro with obvious worry etched across his face. "So very wrong, actually. You say your teeth have decomposed…but I'm looking right at them."

"What I'm saying is true." Kimimaro furrowed his eyebrows, finally feeling something other than nothing. Now he felt angry and, strangely, confused…like he was drowning. If Juugo was so sure, then maybe he– No. He was dead. He died that day in the hospital after that illness. That he was walking around was by sheer will, now. Juugo was wrong.

"You've just manipulated yourself into believing it's true," Juugo rebutted, narrowing his eyes.

Kimimaro's lips trembled as he placed his hands firmly on the table, desperately wanting to escape. "Y-You're wrong," he snapped. "You're absolutely wrong!"

He stood before the nurse could even arrive and tell him he could leave, stumbling backwards into the wall to escape what seemed like the truth staring him straight in the face. Juugo's eyes held absolutely no anxiety, no uncertainty in his conviction. Staring at them made him feel frightened. "N-No! Stop looking at me like that!" he pleaded, and his expression wavered, as did his strength.

Beads of sweat rolled down Kimimaro's forehead and his breathing became labored from the effort of standing and shouting all at once. He put a hand to his head, wincing as his legs turned to jelly and his knees buckled, sending him to the floor. The table heaved, scooting across the floor with a loud shove. Something warm and strong and big caught him. Darkness enveloped him, cutting off his vision like the flip of a switch. Something shattered very near his ear.

He wanted to run, but he was too weak.

"Kimimaro!"

The voice was feminine and motherly and heavy with concern–Nurse Shizuku, no doubt. When had she managed to get over here? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, or time had sped up and his mind was moving slower. Oh, right, she must've been delivering Juugo's oatmeal to him and happened to walk in on this. That explained the shattering he'd heard. That was the last reasoning he could make before his mind numbed.

"Kimimaro!"

It echoed, bouncing off the walls of his mind, ringing melodically in his head. Something brushed against his cheek–a gentle hand that felt tense against his now-clammy skin. "Kimimaro, are you okay!? Doctor! Someone go get Doctor Kabuto! Kagerou, go get the doctor! Ibara, get over here and help me! Juugo, hand him over to me, dear. Kimimaro, honey! Say something, Kimimaro!"

He could feel himself slipping into darkness. Her voice echoed in his ears, and soon it was joined by more and more voices: his mother as she pleaded for him to smile for her again; his father as he tried to get his attention; his relatives, those voices he'd heard for years; all of the people who shouldn't have been there but were there, loud and clear and shouting in his head.

"Kimimaro!"

"Kimimaro"

"kimimaro"

–––––––––––––––

Kabuto could hear the nurse shouting his name down the hall before the door even opened. He sighed and looked over at his guest, grimacing. "I'm terribly sorry for this interruption," he said, clearing his throat in preparation.

The heavy door flew open with much more ease than it should have, crashing into the wall as the newest nurse, a brutish-looking brunette, Kagerou, came rushing forward. He sneered at her as he looked over her person with disgust. Thick neck, meaty arms and legs, thick torso with enough stock to hide her breasts: everything about her was mannish. Her horse teeth didn't help the image, nor did her deep voice. She looked more like a man than a woman, and an ugly one at that.

"D-D-Doctor Kabuto," she panted, hands falling to her knees as she bent over to gain her breath. "It's…It's Kimimaro!! He collapsed after his usual breakfast! He and Juugo got in what appeared to be an argument and–"

Kabuto raised his eyebrows and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Juugo, the new patient in Ward B?"

"Y-Yes, sir, but that's not important!"

"I should say it is. If Kimimaro collapsed after–"

"No, he just fainted because he didn't have the strength!"

"How long have you been working here?" Kabuto's eyes hardened.

Kagerou recoiled, taking a step back. "Two weeks, sir…"

"Then what makes you think you know anything about my patients?"

"I'm…I'm sorry, doctor, but I just–"

"Where is Nurse Ibara?"

"…Helping Shizuku," she admitted, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Shouldn't you be with her instead of bothering me?"

"S-Sir, Shizuku said–"

"Don't interrupt me; I wasn't done. You could learn a thing or two from Nurse Ibara, like manners and not panicking under stress. I don't care what Nurse Shizuku said; make sure his vitals are okay and take Kimimaro back to his room to let him rest. If your mother taught you any manners, you'd know to knock before entering." He turned, smiling lightly at another man sitting in front of the desk. "Isn't that right, Doctor Orochimaru?"

She bowed her head low as Orochimaru turned to her, eyeing her with mild interest. "I'm…I'm so sorry! I was not aware you were in a meeting, Doctor Kabuto!" she exclaimed, her face turning almost purple.

"Go tell the other nurses my instructions, and I want you to personally attend to Juugo, nurse. Make sure he gets back to his room," Kabuto ordered.

She paused, head still bowed in fear as she wrapped her head around those instructions, and Kabuto couldn't help but grin vindictively. "Now!" he barked, and she went running out of the room, absolutely flustered.

With her out of the room, Orochimaru crossed his hands back over his knees and cleared his throat. "Where were we, Kabuto?"

"We were discussing the new plans for the grounds," his subordinate replied, going to the door and shutting it to keep their conversation private. "I was thinking we could add in a few gardens in the back. It would certainly look good to the public. They might be more inclined to send their loved ones here if they believed we let out patients walk around, bonding with nature or some other rubbish like that."

"Ah, yes, of course. I think that'd be a sufficient plan for the money we've received." Orochimaru glanced back toward the door, narrowing his eyes. "More competent nurses would also be beneficial to this institution."

Regaining himself, the lithe, chalk-white head of the institution smiled again, curling a lock of dark hair behind his ear and standing. "You have been so much help to this institution, Kabuto," he purred, lips curling into a crooked smile as he placed a kind hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "The institution was in trouble before you arrived, but you've managed to turn it around. Still, we're in trouble again and we need Kimimaro here as long as possible. The funding benefits are essential to fixing this place up. Keep him here as long as you can…even if that means hindering his progress."

"As you wish, Orochimaru," Kabuto replied with a bright, loyal smile.

––––––––––––––––

"kimimaro"

"Kimimaro"

"Kimimaro."

Light filled his vision, turning foggy and muted grey against a sea of black, and Kimimaro's eyes fluttered open to stare at the white-washed ceiling of his room. Turning, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes groggily. "What," he started, but soon words were lost to him as he saw the older, bigger teen sitting beside his bed, against the wall.

His first impulse was to flee from the room, but something itched in his arm. That was when he noticed the metal stand the older teen was sitting beside. His eyes traveled the stand up and up and up until he saw the bag hanging from the top. There was a plastic clip letting a clear liquid drip into a thin tube underneath that. The tube continued, finally stopping at a piece of tape against the inside of his elbow, right over a vein. It itched, and he wanted to rip it out…but first…

"What are you doing here?"

Juugo turned to him, as if from a daze, and his eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, you're awake." He didn't sound pleased at the notion.

"Of course I am. You said my name, didn't you?" Kimimaro replied.

Juugo grunted in embarrassment as he stood up, patting his rear of the dirt and grime that had settled in the crack where wall met floor. "I didn't say anything," he muttered, more to himself than Kimimaro.

"You did. You said my name. It woke me–" Juugo turned and gave him a scalding look, and Kimimaro's voice quieted. "–up…"

Silence settled between them, and Kimimaro fell back into his pillow and turned his eyes to the ceiling, too weak to sit up any longer. "I could have sworn you said my name… I guess I was wrong, then…" He was fairly sure he was right, but he was simply too tired to argue. He felt as if he'd woken up from a ten-year-long coma, all achy and stiff. Still, with his mind able to reason again, he was sure now that Juugo had caught him as he fell; for that, he was grateful.

"Thank you," he said quietly, listening to Juugo's footsteps drift farther away.

Kimimaro glanced over to see Juugo already opening the door, looking down at the checkerboard tiles of the hallway. "You're welcome," the older teen mumbled, embarrassed. His eyes then hardened, and he looked back at the frail teen lying in bed.

"You owe me one," Juugo informed him.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"If you want to repay me, then eat something. Even if you feel it's unnecessary, eat something." His eyes fell back to the floor, and he bit his lip subtly. "You say you're decomposing, but you're really just…wasting away. …It's…" He cleared his throat and walked out the door, slamming it behind him without finishing his sentence.

Kimimaro sat up and stared at the door with wide, unblinking eyes as a swear erupted on the other side and Juugo's head passed the window, shaking "no" as he stomped away angry.

He then turned and fisted the sheets resting over his legs, looking awkwardly at the bed with puzzled eyes. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and his eyes felt heavy. He cleared his throat, hearing the phlegm rise up in the back, feeling his jaw grow even heavier.

Something began pricking at his eyelashes, and he finally fell back into the pillow and placed his hands over his eyes as his chest spasmed and an odd croaking sound came issuing from his lips.

Why the hell had Juugo's anxious expression make him feel torn in two?