On the other side of the door she heard scraping. It didn't kill the pounding of her heart, it was just an additional source of noise. He hand clutched to the door knob. She had to turn it and enter eventually. Out of all the thousands that must have opened this door and entered she was certain she was having the most doubts. It was a barrier. It wasn't just opening a door, it was admitting to what had happened.

Waiting for the feelings to cease was like trying to bite your own neck. As she started turning the knob it was like her arm disconnected from her shoulder. It wasn't her, it wasn't her body anymore. It was screaming, she was screaming as she opened the door and looked at the circle of chairs she had heard being created.

The room looked like a dentist office from the seventies. The curtains were dark blue with some abstract circular pattern, the chairs wine red and plastic. The office desk had looked better, but they weren't using it anyway. This was the sit in a circle and talk session she had always encouraged others to partake it.

This was Ino Yamanaka. Aged 34, recently separated. Doctor, specialized in pediatric cancer treatment and surgery.

She'd seen death before. She had experienced it almost on a daily basis. One out of ten patients of hers she would lose within the first year, give it ten years, 27% would have passed. It might not be a large number. It might not be a lot, but that's three out of ten families destroyed and lives changed forever. She'd passed on the message of death so many times she had almost felt like death herself. She'd been thanked, she'd been accused and she had been blamed. They all reacted differently.

She always reacted in the same way.

The same monologue.

The same tone of voice.

The same encouragement.

It was no longer heartfelt. She was numb by the pain it was to tell someone that their children had passed. The last year she had been numb to everything. It was a procedure. When all hope that their loved one was lost, the race was lost she would hand all of them the same pamphlet.

To a grief group in their local community. So that they'd have someone to talk to, someone who was going through loss like they were.

She never understood it. Even if it was what she worked with.

She never understood losing a child.

The empty void that would never fill no matter how many meetings you showed up to. She never understood how your own home becomes a prison, a constant reminder of all the life that has been sucked out if. Small steps that would never run across the floor. Shirts with scents that tears would wash away. Favorite foods that would go stale in cupboards. She hadn't known any of the sorrows when she ushered families through the system because they didn't have a child for her to care of anymore.

It was unfair. She hadn't understood that.

She hadn't understood how unfair the grip of cancer was. She hadn't understood how devastating it is when it hits your home, your family, your child.

The circle was already filling up as she had stood there holding back emotions already bubbling inside of her. Even the fact that they all seemed to familiar with each other made her choke back tears. Each and everyone in this room had lost the thing most precious to them and it made her feel already strangely connected to them.

She was amazed by the diversity of the group. She was surprised that so many were men. She was surprised by the tranquility she felt inside the room.

A man was helping himself to some of the crackers that had been set up. Eyes vibrantly red, she didn't need to be a doctor to detect that he was having trouble sleeping. The bags under his eyes was a dead giveaway. It was also his mobility, to her each one of his movements screamed exhaustion.

Next to him was a couple. One of them she recognized from school. The woman was heavily built, strong not overweight. Her clothes modest and proper with dimmed shades of purple. It was enough to make Ino look twice at her on the street. She was stunning, full of graze, almost regal. Her hair had a darker shade of blond. Her appearance made Ino believe that she wasn't a local. Diverting her gace a little to the right she something interesting. She hadn't seen this lady's partner since their ways took different paths in middle school.

Shikamaru. Dark brown hair long and gathered on the top of his head, beard hadn't been tended to in about a week. Nicotine stains on his fingers and constantly tapping on a cigarette pack in his pocket. He was stressed and uncomfortable. He must have been there because of her. He was giving what Ino's spouse hadn't been able to give, support.

Everyone deals with grief in their own way. Most ways aren't compatible.

A man came rushing through the door, blue eyes shot towards the clock thinking he was late. He looked like he had his act together on first glance. Suit on, brief case, blond hair cut short. If you looked closer you'd see his tie was poorly tied and lose, his sleeve had a stain and his brief case full of scratches. The least proper thing about him was the large grin on his face. Ino was no psychologist, but she'd seen this act many times. Often acted out by desperate mothers left without a child.

The door was closed behind them. The blond turned around and smiled at one of the two men that had entered. It wasn't returned but there was a change in his body language. From what Ino could tell the two men where brothers. Black hair, same blank face and almost same height. One was sturdier built than the other.

Ino took a small step back looking at the oldest brother. She had seen him, she had spoken to him and at one point desperately tried to calm him down and comfort him. It hadn't helped. He had broken some real expensive equipment that day. They had all in the hospital chipped in to help him pay.

It was one of the first faiths that had really hit her. It's one of the first things she remembered in her medical career. He had lost it all within 36 hours. It had all gone from heaven to hell so fast.

She had seen him enter the hospital around the time her shift had started. His wife was in a wheel chair and she was the depiction of beauty. Her green eyes were such a stunning contrast to her amber hair. Eyes big and lips plump. Still the most beautiful could be seen hidden in both of their smiles. The love and warmth they emitted. The pride that this was finally happening. They were becoming parents.

He hadn't changed much, if anything his face seemed more hollow and his body skinnier.

"Let's get in the circle, shall we?"

His voice carried so much melancholy now. It was deeper and in some sense it almost spoke of the horror he had experienced.

To no surprise Shikamaru is the first to fall down in a chair, literally fall. It's like he tosses himself like some coat and his posture mimics that. His wife sits down gracefully with her back straight. Opposites. Next to Shikamaru the blond man sits down, then the youngest brother, oldest brother and a few seats down Ino finds a chair.

"He'll be here?"

The blond looks over at the older brother who doesn't respond. The red haired man sits down a few seats down from Ino.

To them it isn't like she's there, and she almost starts doubting her existence. How many times hasn't she screamed to anyone, everyone, someone to help her change faith, in the dark of the night no one ever responded? It doesn't work like that. Ino has never believed in any religion. She had always believed in science, but science had failed her and there was nothing left. She once loved her job, she once believed she made a difference. Now she can only think about what negative aspect she can think of.

She isn't warm and comforting anymore. She doesn't do more than she has too. She isn't reassuring any parents. She's open and frank. She doesn't sugar coat any prognosis. She wants them to be ready, no matter how safe you think you are, things happen. Ino closes her eyes and fist. Hopes she is invisible. That this is her last good bye with earth.

"We have a fresh face."

She isn't invisible. She's seen by all and everyone in the room. All eyes are on her and she closes her own to protect herself from the intrusion. She had been having doubts about going here for months. She knew she shouldn't do it, but everything on her inside was threatening to explode if she didn't release her feelings. They had to get out. They couldn't stay all locked up in her anymore. She felt the hairs on her arms raise. She tried to think of something happy, but all her happy memories had now become painful reminders of what had been lost.

"Over to you Naruto."

Attention shifted. Ino slowly opened her eyes and they briefly met his eyes, the oldest brother offered her a quick smile. It made a rift in her very soul. He had seen her. He had seen her pain, when the others were all eyes. She didn't blame them for looking at her. She didn't blame them for being curious about a fresh face. She blamed them for looking at her and not seeing her.

"Even if it's been three years, last Wednesday I had cut up all her favorite fruit before she came home from school. Of course she never came."

"It's been a while since you've done that."

Ino had expected it to come from the older brother leading the meeting. The younger brother lifted his hand and embraced Naruto's with it. The movement was unexpected to Ino. The gesture was friendly, romantic even. There was so much information traveling between their eyes in a code only they could understand. It was their language and all of them were kept out. They had connected on a deeper level, a level Ino wished she could have connected with her ex-husband.

"I still think you're working too much, it triggers situations like these."

He put force into the embrace. The wind moved the curtains in the background. Ino was more than happy for the fresh air. She was suffocating in familiarity. She still set the table for three, made favorite foods, shopped. She had too many boxes of chocolate cereal to count. Normally she wouldn't budge on the sugary breakfast ban but she always had a feeling that something was wrong when she bought it. Her child was in need of some cheering up, like he was sick.

He had been sick. Very sick. Towards the end the cereal had been one of the few things he could keep down, especially after therapy. Now she kept buying them, sensing that something was wrong picking up the box but refusing her to acknowledge why it felt off.

"When I work I don't have to think about her…"

There was a shake to his voice. He looked down at the black and white checkered floor. They had ended their conversation. It was over now and tears were dancing, treating to fall over the edge and he'd spend yet another night in tears waiting for his office to open so that he could be someone else. Office Naruto was entirely different from childless Naruto. Office Naruto always had a big smile on, and sometimes even childless Naruto believed the smile. He turned himself off, he wasn't always there. When he came home early, not so tired that he'd fall asleep straight away, and when he came to the meetings he was childless Naruto. Then he was reminded.

"You should think about her, it's a process. It hurts, but if you process you'll be able to move on."

Naruto shook his head. To everyone in the group moving on seemed so selfish. The death of their children had become their identity. They were supposed to be miserable, if not it was like they were leaving behind their children. It was the older brother's job to guide them to a place where they realized that you're not doing your child any favors by being miserable. He too sometimes struggled getting there, he too had dark nights when nothing felt right and he wanted to give up.

"Does anyone here feel familiar in using work as a shield, a wall against reality?"

His eyes scanned the circle slowly waiting for someone to respond. He knew there was at least one person who was doing the same. He could even take a guess at who. Sound of fabric shifting, someone was raising their arms. Shikamaru, didn't put in enough energy to raise his arm properly. His hand hung limp close to his chest. Just how Ino remember him, halfway. He did everything halfway and then he saw himself as done, never reaching his full potential.

"Good, then you'll partner up after. What do you want to share with the group?"

We had moved on to Shikamaru. He looked over at his partner with a half-smile. One she didn't return, but crossed her arms. There was distance between them. Easy to tell that the death of their children had shattered them in the process. It happened, often.

Ino jumped in her seat when the door behind her opened. She was on edge, every muscle tense and every brain cell working hard to keep her in this reality. She'd been shifting from past and present. Felt like all her organs wanted to make their exit through her mouth, she'd die on the floor as she finally allowed her tears to fall. The ones she could feel dancing in her eyes. Coming here meant something. It was her first step admitting what had happened. Admitting that her whole world had shattered.

"We've argued seven times this week, three days were silent. It's, troublesome. It's exhausting, we don't want to. It just happens."

With them it had never just happened. They had been out for it. For a few minutes forget the sorrow they were sharing. If they got carried away, if they were able to reach the bottom the very high of an argument there would be no pain. For those minutes and even hours they would forget what had placed them there. Their son wasn't dead. They weren't arguing to forget him. There was only anger. Anger towards each other.

Had it been worth it?

Trading your husband for those few incidents where his death wasn't on your mind. Ino wished they could have made it out of the rough part together. That they would have stayed together. She needed support. She was now all alone in her misery. The pain she felt flooded her veins pushing out the life of her, making her feel dead, wish she was dead, she had no one to share that with. He had already moved on. She was laagering behind because she couldn't let it go.

The answer is still yes. Even now that she'd seen him move on with someone else, felt the sting of being replaced. She would still do it all over again. When everything was at its worst it was all she had to take her mind off things. The arguments made her forget the worst and she had desperately needed to forget.

"Arguments don't just happen."

She had almost for a second believed it had been her but it had been him again. He was looking intently at the couple. Ino shifted her gaze towards the newcomer. No one else had paid him attention. It was a sense of familiarity about his late coming. He sat down next to Ino and she got a chance to study him. The hairs on her arms stood up as she looked at him. Everything about him was so beautiful but wrapped in misery. It was there to see by the naked eye.

The sunken cheek told her that he didn't eat properly. It made him seem so fragile. Above high cheek bones were sunken eyes, grey skin beneath. He hadn't shaven for days. His clothes were well worn and ragged, body was slender but not as thin as you'd expect looking at his face. From his looks she expected him to smell like sweat and she wasn't certain, alcohol? He didn't. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes she'd almost feel like she was in the forest with the wind blowing on her over from the windows. Pines, he smelled like pines. He must have been a hiker.

"There's always something lying beneath them."

The elderly man chimed in. His hair prematurely grey, and yes most definitively a hiker. He had pieces of a branch in his unkempt hair. Something about him drove Ino in. She wanted to know more about him, everything about him. She was the stranger in the room. She didn't know much about them and they knew next to nothing about her. She didn't like it. She found herself worried about her impression for the first time since his death. It was the first time she had herself fully in mind.

It wasn't even herself. It was as if time stood still in the room. She watched Gaara scratch himself under his eye, she heard it, Naruto tilted his head, Itachi straightened his back. She was aware of it all. She was paying attention and she wasn't lost in a dark place deep inside her mind. She was there. She was present. She was aware.

"We'll talk about it, after. Gaara? Still not sleeping I see."

Ino was surprised when he didn't answer vocally. He did answer though. Fingers were moving, his arms were moving. Apparently he didn't speak vocally. His eyes were set on Itachi who watched him intently, as in deep conversation. They were deep in conversation. Ino knew some speech to sign, but she had never learned sign language and it was all so different. Knowing a few universal signs came in handy. You'd meet all sorts of people in her line of work, and sometimes her patients had lost the ability to speak or didn't have the energy. Then knowing a few signs to communicate came in handy.

"Gaara tells me that he's still having nighmares, they're still about the fire. Fire that comes from him but never hurts him. He still think it's unfair that he was the only one they were able to pull out of the house. It should have been his child and wife."

Shikamaru's wife clutched her heart. Ino didn't know the full story. Didn't know about the fire that had emitted in Gaara's house. It had all happened so fast, as most accidents. Gaara had run downstairs to see where the fire was coming from. The entrance door was blocked by flames. Fire alarms in his rental had been faulty and the fire was discovered all too late. He'd run off to warn his wife and children.

He had never made it to them, the fire had blocked his path. The scars on his hands and feet told everybody that he had tried not to let the flames stop him. He had tried to get to them, he had tried building some sort of bridge over the flames. It had been a fireman who had pulled him out. Not long after the staircase up to the second store had collapsed. Gaara was lucky to have survived, but he didn't agree to this himself.

They were all feeling guilty of outliving their children. No parent should have to go through it, but man had still to conquer accidents and all disease.

"I was at where it happened, again."

The man next to Ino spoke for the first time. No one seemed impressed or surprised when he placed his elbows on his knees and let his fingers run through his hair. The sigh that emitted was hardly loud enough for Ino to detect.

She didn't know about the accident. That this man, Kakashi loved the outdoors and wanted to pass that value on to his children. She didn't know about the rock climbing accident. That Kakashi revisited the spot his child hit the ground, where his body caved and gave up.

So much had gone wrong that day. Too much. Kakashi had always been strict on safety when it came to his children. He had modern equipment and taught his children the importance.

It was supposed to be an easy climb. It wasn't a difficult wall, the only thing was the height. When his youngest son slipped the safety wasn't sticking. The older brother was an extra safety for his brother. When some of the safety gave out the youngest fell fast. The abseiling went to fast, the oldest lost control, lost his ground. As his youngest brother hit the ground with fatal force the oldest was connected to his rope and was sent flying up the wall.

Father was left witnessing the whole thing. The moment where he would lose his youngest son and his oldest became paralyzed. The father would often revisit that spot, relive the whole ordeal. Try to find out how it could have been done differently, know where he went wrong. Know that no matter what he did he could never go back to before that day.

"No matter what, I can never go back. I go back hoping that something will change. That he'll be there again. That he didn't take his last breath, there, in my arms. That I didn't see the life disappear from his eyes."

Ino got out of her chair. She too had been with her son that night he passed. Her ex-husband and her had climbed the bed. There wasn't enough room, they smothered their son. He had been smiling, he had been smiling as she embraced him from the last time. She had been patting him until the morning. Her husband long gone. She had almost put up a fight when they came to get him.

It was first then it was real to her. It was then she had to accept that he was gone. Hearing someone having a similar story became too much for Ino.

She cursed to herself as she removed the empty chair next to her. She didn't know what she expected to feel in a room filled with people who too had lost their children. How could this help? Sitting in a rundown and tired office while listening to how miserable it is losing your child. What was it good for? Feeling even worse, Ino concluded. Being reminded the life isn't fair, and you're never promised tomorrow as the Christians preach.

Going to that meeting had been a mistake, it had only ripped up her wounds. Wounds she now was certain would never heal, would never cease to bleed and burn. She was branded, worse than a widow. She had lost a child. She had lost her own flesh and blood to a disease her job was to eliminate, but in the end she couldn't save her own child.