Title: ER
One Shot
Universe: Modern day AU, non-massacre
Warnings: Self-harm

…ER…

"Come on, wake up…"

It was way too early for this. "Sasuke, go back to bed," Itachi mumbled as he rolled over, squinting in the darkness at the dark shape of his brother hovering over him. He squinted harder, trying to read the numbers on his alarm clock, but with his poor vision, they simply blurred together into one big red smear.

"I can't. I need help," Sasuke whispered, pushing Itachi's glasses towards him as he reached out a hand to blindly grope for them on his nightstand.

Itachi rubbed his temples as the red smear sharpened to read 2:36AM. He groaned inwardly, then shot a glare at the younger Uchiha, though it was lost in the dark. "Sasuke, it's 2AM… what do you want?"

Itachi was met with silence for a few seconds before he finally stammered, "I, uh, think I need to… go to the hospital."

"What? What are you talking about, what's wrong?"

"Um… I hurt myself…"

Itachi winced as he reached over to tug on the cord of his lamp, his eyes watering at the sudden brightness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they did he almost wished they hadn't.

Sasuke stood before him still wearing his clothes from earlier in the day, a dark blue t-shirt, and a pair of faded jeans. But that wasn't what caught his eye, no. He looked pale-paler than usual-and he was trembling ever so slightly. Even without his glasses, Itachi would have been able to easily see why.

Blood. Blood, everywhere.

It stained the side of his shirt in dark blotches. There were droplets on the leg of his pants. Streaks of red covered his fingers and hands, one of which held a wad of paper towels that had been completely soaked through to his left wrist, where the blood was still slowly trickling down his palm.

Itachi sat bolt upright, and his hands flew up to cover his mouth as he stared in shock at the last sight he would ever have expected to be woken up to at 2AM. "Oh my God," he whispered, trying to quell the panic that began to constrict his chest.

"I think I need to go to the hospital," he repeated, the look in his eyes a mix of shame and a little bit of fear.

"What did you-why-how did this happen? Let me see it," Itachi sputtered as he gently took hold of the bleeding arm, moving aside the soaked paper. The culprit was a long, deep wound stretching from the base of his wrist and curving downward across his forearm. The gash was deep, down to the adipose tissue, and about three inches in length. He stared up at Sasuke, his countenance hurt, afraid, and shocked all at once-the razor thin white scars that made tracks across his pale skin told him all he needed to know about how and why.

"I know what you're thinking. And you're wrong, so stop"

"Don't lie to me Sasuke, this is serious."

"I'm not. I wasn't trying to kill myself." Itachi flinched as Sasuke put words to the terrifying thoughts.

Itachi was silent. He felt numb, but his heart was racing, the blood rushing in his ears. He was wide awake. He opened his mouth, ready to lecture him for all he was worth-how, how could his smart and talented little brother do something so stupid-but Sasuke shut him up with a glare.

"I know what you're going to say, and keep your voice down. You'll wake mom and dad." Itachi did not mention the fact that he had been speechless for over a minute as he stared down at the open wound scoring his arm. "Just… do you think I need stitches?" he asked, looking away, trying to hide the guilt and the shame he was feeling.

"Definitely," he said softly. "But we have to tell-"

"Shut up! No we don't have to tell them. They're asleep. You can drive me to the hospital, they'll stitch me up and then we can go back home and pretend like this never happened."

"Are you going to take me or should I just go back to my room and bleed out?" Sasuke hissed. Itachi knew Sasuke better than most people, and he could tell that he didn't mean to lash out. He never did. But when he felt cornered or attacked, or guilty, out came the biting words and the stinging comments.

Itachi stood and walked to his dresser, throwing him a clean towel. "Wrap it around your wrist and hold your arm above heart level. Just… just let me get dressed."

Sasuke sat on Itachi's bed, watching him as he slips into a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He grabbed his keys from his night stand, glanced at his brother's trembling form, and as an afterthought pulls a sweater from his closet and drapes it over his shoulders.

Wordlessly they turned out the lights and absconded through the hallways, down the stairs, out the front door.

Itachi slid into the driver's seat; Sasuke into the passenger seat. Sasuke buckled his seatbelt clumsily trying not to let the towel fall off, then relaxed into his seat with his bleeding arm resting above heart level behind his head, staring numbly at the lights that bled into the darkness.

They pulled out of the driveway in silence, but it didn't last for long.

"Sasuke," Itachi began tiredly, sparing him a glance at a stoplight on the empty roads.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," he stressed in reply, not even waiting for the rest of Itachi's words.

"Just tell me what happened, Sasuke. Please," he added in a whisper.

Sasuke sighed, not even looking at him. "I was opening a box and my hand slipped."

"You did it to yourself, didn't you?"

"Of course I did, moron," he snaps. "But if we tell them that they're going to put me on suicide watch."

Itachi's grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "For all I know, you need to be," he said sternly. "I saw the scars, Sasuke. How long has this been going on?" He blamed himself: how could he have missed the signs? The way he wore long sleeves nearly every day, and when he didn't arm warmers obscured his wrists. The tiny box of razor blades he'd found on Sasuke's desk. The way he'd become so withdrawn…

"It doesn't matter, does it? I don't want to talk about it. Can you please just back me up on this?" he pleads.

"I don't know" he sighed. "I just… I just don't know if you're okay. Do you need help? God, Sasuke that's-that's a really deep cut."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," he said yet again, but softly this time.

"Really?"

"Really. I don't want to die. If I did, I wouldn't have come to you."

Itachi felt the crushing weight of despair fall upon him as he realized that Sasuke is right-and the very thought terrifies him. "Why do you do it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"I don't know," he mutters, frustrated. "It just… it helps. With the stress. I had a bad day, and I cut a little too deep this time, that's all. It's not a big deal."

Sasuke would be entering college soon. Itachi knew that the applications, the decisions, the pressure from their parents had been weighing on him. But… enough that hurting himself felt like the only option? "That's not healthy, Sasuke."

"I know," he admits, staring intently at the blood stains on his pant leg. "I'm sorry."

"If you need to talk to someone, you know you can always come to me, right?"

"I know."

Itachi turned into the hospital's emergency room parking lot, the bright lights assaulting his tired eyes, and pulled into a spot. He rested his head back on his seat, eyes closed and rubbing his temples for a long moment. He'd made his decision, though it pained him to think that it could be the wrong one. He would back up Sasuke's story that the cut was an accident, and they would wait to be seen, and the doctor would stitch the wound closed, and they would be back in their beds before their parents woke up.

He could only pray that it was a decision he wouldn't regret.

…ER…