Full Summary:

Some things just can't be healed, some hurts never fully close. Snakes past is a long and dark one, his future clouded by things he can't escape. He needs help, the blackouts are getting worse and while he's thankful for Cry giving him a place to stay, he's not sure he can live with what he can't remember doing and seeing the evidence of these things showing up on Cry's face, well, he's just not sure how much longer he can take it. So Cry calls in a favor to an old buddy, Jund, a once renowned psychiatrist now private practice therapist. Anything to help a friend...right?

(So sorry, I'm terrible at summary's.)

*This Chapter is short but it gets better as it goes. Promise. Lots of the LNC will be showing their face. Was first posted on my tumblr.

I. Sterile Rooms & Locked Doors

Uncomfortable, that's what he felt. It practically radiated off of him. He did not want to be here, it felt fake, too sterilized, a façade to make you feel comfortable—it just put him on edge. When he walked into the room it was like one of those staged homes they make for bullshit open houses. The ones they make to "show" you how the house could look, even though both client and seller know they could never in a million years afford to make it look that way. He wanted out, the pressure of being there weighing on his shoulders as he sat in an uncomfortable chair and listened.

"Everything heals in time; at least that's what they'll tell you. Well I'm here to tell you that's bullshit. Some things just can't be healed. There's no potion, no remedy, no mystical power that can heal some hurts, some things are just too deep to touch."

Was this guy for real, what the fuck was even the point of this, "Then why am I even here," he asked, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"That's the question isn't it? I didn't call you, I didn't make an appointment at this office, and I didn't make any of the decisions that led you here. Something inside you is broken, and I'll be honest with you … Snake?"

He nodded.

"I'll be honest with you Snake, I can't heal you. I can't put the pieces of your life back together. Only you can do that, but I can help you get there. I can get you to the point where it won't take all the energy in you just to get out of bed; I can help the pain you feel now fade. I can help you cope, release that rage, but you have to want it, you have to want to get past this trauma, have to hand over the guilt, or it will eat you alive."

Snake scratched the back of his neck and sighed, head still down staring at the carpet, memorizing the patterns and colors that seemed to weave through it. "I don't know what I want; I just don't want to hurt anyone else. I've done enough damage, caused enough suffering, and I'm not sure I even want help. I deserve the pain, the memories, I don't want or need anyone's pity, not even yours."

"Listen, I'm not here to pity you, and I won't. No one deserves the hand you've been dealt, and I'll do what I can. It's not going to be easy, and you'll hate me most of the time, this is something that we'll have to work through together, it's not something that just gets better, it's a process, and a long one. Just keep in mind; you'll never heal from this, just recover from it, if that makes sense."

"Yea, I hear ya Doc," he sighed, and let the silence stretch between them. He looked up and eyed the Doctor for the first time since he walked in, short and lanky came to mind, but then again to him everyone seemed short. There was something about him though, determination maybe, but for whatever reason Snake thought that maybe he really could help. 'It wasn't going to be easy,' that was an understatement; Snake was bull-headed and had a temper that frayed at the slightest provocation, but this wasn't just about him. He wasn't sure what he was capable of anymore, and the blackouts were getting worse.

"No drugs," it was a request and demand all in one.

Tension visibly released from the doctors shoulders. "If that's what you want, no medication," he said sinking back in his chair as if he'd won some argument that was never voiced.

Snake nodded, "So when's the first session?"

—-X—-

Snake slammed the car door shut behind him as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"So, how'd the consultation go?"

Snake took a deep breath trying not to snap, "Cry, I just got in the damn car, give me a sec would ya?"

He at least had the decency to look chagrined before responding, "Yea, sorry bro."

Snake wasn't sure what he wanted, he knew Cry just wanted to help and in truth he had. He was the only reason he agreed to go to the stupid psychiatrist … or was it therapist, (what's the difference anyways) in the first place. He knew something needed to change though and if Cry trusted this head doctor maybe he should at least give it a chance. He owed a lot to Cry and it was the least he could do given his current state.

Snake just stared out the windshield, watching the scenery pass them by and wishing it all would just stop. His head pounded with the pressure of keeping everything under control, a now constant battle. He reached into the glove compartment, pouring a few pills out into his hand before tipping them down his throat with a groan. "Sorry for snapping at ya back there, kind of on edge."

"No need to apologize."

There was every reason to apologize and they both knew it, the slowly fading yellow bruise on Cry's cheekbone said it all. He was a monster, but he couldn't bring himself to leave, and he knew Cry would never kick him out, not now. The bruise wasn't the first nor would it be the last; he just wished he could remember doing it.

As if on cue Snake feels an elbow to the arm, "Dude you gotta stop worrying about this stuff. If I say I'm fine, I am fine. It's not you, and it's not that bad, I can deal. Plus if anything it's my fault for getting in your way when that shit happens, it's my choice to intervene and if I say I can handle it, I can."

Snake didn't believe him no matter how many times he said it; if it wasn't that bad he'd tell him what happened when he blacked out. And the dreams after were worse than any possible truth, the not knowing was slowly driving him insane along with everything else. So instead of starting another argument he elected to ignore the comment.

"So uh, how do you know the Doc again?"

Cry shook his head at the obvious dismissal, "Oh that's easy. Jund and I went to high school together and just never really fell out of touch. Still Skype on the weekends occasionally when were both free, kind of unusual considering how different the lives we lead are, but shit's funny that way."

"No kidding," he said letting the silence stretch between them. Thoughts of failure and the monster within swirled inside his head. If this went badly he didn't want anyone to get hurt, and just by the look of him he could snap that doctor in two. "You really think he can help?"

Cry looked over at his companion and smiled, it was a tired smile, but it held all the hope he had. "If anyone can do it buddy, it's him. He won't give up and can give just as much as you dish out, I'd bet money you'll be cursing his name within a month, and that's being generous."

Snake scrunched his face up at this, "That doesn't sound like any kind of therapy I've heard of."

A knowing smile started to spread across Cry's face as they turned onto their street and into the driveway, "Jund, he's a, he's a bit unorthodox. Probably why he opened up his own practice and went from highly sought after psychologist to private practice therapist."

"I see."

Cry patted Snakes arm as a laugh escaped his throat, opening the door with his free hand. "My friend, you don't even know the half of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Snake saw Cry shut the car door and race up to the house. Prying himself out of the car, he quickly hurried after up the driveway only to have the door slammed in his face, followed by the sound of the deadbolt locking.

"Really asshole! How old are you?"

"As old as I want to be. Peter Pan told me never to grow up, and I was super gullible as a child."

Snake slammed his fist against the door, trying to hold back the grin that was threatening to break free. "Cry open this door or I swear… You just can't say things like that and expect someone not to ask what the hell you meant."

Laughter was the only response.

"Fucking dick."