DM: I'm back with another chapter for you

DM: I'm back with another chapter for you! Thanks so much to:

mattychoochoo
XxStarxGazerxX
Matthew
other
Spring Iris
Kisa167
Krimzon Lilly
HarunoRin
Fab5-Blondie
Kaiya-of-the-shadows

catharticdeficit

For your great reviews! One thing I should tell you guys is that, like it says in the summary, this fic is AU, meaning Alternate-universe. So everything you know about the characters from the show/manga is pretty much not correct. Just wanted to clear that up.

Disclaimer: Same as the previous ones.

Warning: Some lemon in this chapter, guys!

The Ward

IV

Id, Ego, Superego

Kyouya was running down a black hallway as it closed around him.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki was calling, but the opening was getting smaller. Tamaki was getting swallowed up by the dark.

"Ootori!" Tamaki cried again. Kyouya ignored the strangeness of being called by his last name and continued to run at full speed.

His breaths were coming in sharp gasps. Tamaki was fading from his vision.

"Dr. Ootori!" a voice yelled. Kyouya stopped running. That definitely wasn't Tamaki. Shifting around, Kyouya realized he was in fact sitting down. He became aware of a vibrating sensation accompanied by a whirring noise.

"Dr. Ootori, we've arrived," Akane said, startling him completely awake.

"Oh," was all he said, his eyes hidden from her by his sleep mask. He felt the familiar surge of rage at being woken up before he felt like it, but suppressed it. Akane removed his mask impetuously, receiving a barely hidden glare in return.

"Sir, we will now proceed on foot," his attendant called, "The area has been secured."

As he recovered from his usual difficulty waking up, Kyouya reminded himself of why exactly he had trekked all the way out to the middle of a Colombian rain forest when he would have much preferred to be sleeping.

According to the lab results, the bag was a special brand of cocaine produced by only one group in the world. A group said to be headed by the richest drug lord of South America, who made his castle in the heart of the Colombian rainforest.

Kyouya watched as Akane bent over to get her bags, giving him a view up her skirt. Her underwear was lacy and red, he noted.

Now, Kyouya thought, as they began heading to where they'd camp for the night, what would the Onibaba have to do with a drug lord?

"Oh!" Akane cried from behind him. She had slipped and fallen, knocking over the servants behind her, who tossed her tent to the side. Then, in the process of getting up, the tent was kicked into a gully that turned out to be quicksand. The large and expensive tent he had brought exclusively for her use was now no more.

The servants began apologizing profusely, and Akane appeared to be angry, but Kyouya held up a hand to halt the noise.

"It's ok, Miss Wakamura. My tent has room for two," he said. Her smirk transformed into a hopeful smile and at last he realized exactly what she was after.

"So quit your whining," he added, turning on his heel.

Can't have her thinking I like her, can I? he thought to himself, amused by his present situation.

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Francis was high.

Tamaki didn't really know how to handle it, and to be frank, he was the only one who seemed to care.

The older man was straddling a chair, pressing his stomach against the back. Tamaki cringed as he heard it creak up on to two legs.

"Yee haw!" he was shouting, "Ride 'em, cowboy!"

Tamaki dove and caught him just as his face was about to smash into the floor, then proceeded to struggle for a good five minutes before the chair finally rested on all fours once more. Francis was skin and bones, but then again, so was Tamaki. Butch and Jim snickered at the sight.

"You havin' trouble, there, Professor?" Butch called. Martha was, mercifully, in her room with Haruhi.

"Yea, Professor!" Jim echoed. Tamaki felt an eyebrow twitch involuntarily. Jim's mindless echoing was probably going to drive him crazy for real some day.

Even as he sat down to catch his breath, Tamaki kept one eye on Francis. This was the day after his treatment week, just after breakfast, and things were getting out of hand. It was Haruhi's turn soon, but for some reason the disorderlies did not seem in a hurry to get her. They were having too much fun watching Francis' antics after Dr. Wilbur had shot him full of some strange medication the day before.

"Damn straight I'm a professor," he hiccupped, "Francis Neubauer, PhD!"

This time he fell backward out of the chair, his head landing softly on the squishy lap of the WGD. Francis' eyes lost their glazed over look and he got up immediately, heading for his room. Tamaki shot the WGD a scared glance to which he received no reply and followed, leaving Butch and Jim alone with the fat man. To his surprise, Tamaki noted that they too seemed on their guard around him and gave him another look. Yup, still brainless. What about him was so scary?

"Yes, that's right, PhD in Psychology," Francis was muttering to himself as he walked ahead. He turned sharply and went into his own room. Tamaki slipped in and closed the door behind him, feeling that he could at last drop his guard for a second. Thankfully, Francis stayed completely wasted for almost twenty-four hours after taking the shot.

Francis never remembered anything he did while high, even that one time he punched Jim in the face. Tamaki would have thought he'd remember something as nice as that.

Whatever, he thought, finding himself using that word more and more lately, works for me.

These conversations with Francis were the only times Tamaki could speak English freely. The rooms were monitored by camera, but Tamaki recognized the microphone from his childhood home at Suoh mansion number two. He used to play a game with Kyouya (actually it was more like he'd play and Kyouya would do his homework) to see how loudly he could say "Tashiro's fat" before Tashiro the security guard would hear him and get mad. One had to be speaking well above their normal voice for the person on the other end to hear anything.

While Tamaki saw this as a stupid oversight on the part of the staff, he had to remind himself that these people worked under the basic assumption that every patient was crazy. The only things they'd need to hear to keep people from killing themselves would probably be shouted. And it wasn't like anyone seemed smart enough to plot an escape.

"Come in, come in," Francis said, patting the bed for Tamaki to sit and taking his own seat in a rickety-looking old fold-up chair. He held an imaginary notepad and pen and began writing in the air. Tamaki knew better than to point this out and sat down.

"Well," Francis said, "What seems to be the problem?" Tamaki sighed.

"I'm pretending to be crazy, Professor," he replied, just as he had every day this week. Francis continued to imagine himself writing things down.

"And," Tamaki added something he realized only at that moment, "I feel terribly guilty for lying to you."

For the first time in those four days, Francis actually looked lucid for a moment when he said, "It seems you're having trouble dealing with your superego, my friend."

Tamaki cocked his head to one side, both confused and relieved. Confused because he couldn't for the life of him remember what a "superego" was, but relieved that the conversation was going in a different direction than usual.

Usually after answering some silly fake-doctor questions, Tamaki would ask about Frank. Francis would then talk about how he had failed to get in to medical school and decided to pursue a PhD in psychology instead, forgetting that Frank had even been mentioned. It turned out that he was in the asylum because he had taken hallucinogens with his students, pretending they were the patients he longed for and gone completely off the deep end. Paranoia and even mild schizophrenia at times took control of him and reduced him to a sobbing heap. Naturally, Dr. Wilbur did not do anything to remedy that.

"Now then, I suppose I should explain what the id, the ego and the superego are. Are you paying attention?" he said sternly, now imagining himself inside a classroom.

"Yes, sir," Tamaki replied, "I'm all ears."

"Now then, the Id is your pleasure-seeking self. It does not care about consequences or morals, it only seeks to have fun and act spontaneously. A person unable to control their Id is capable of massive destruction," he said sagely.

Tamaki nodded, slightly interested. Little did he know that he would meet a pair of Ids in just a few short weeks.

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Kyouya turned on to his back and felt Akane's hot breath against his ear.

What is she doing in my bed? He wondered. Hers was left empty in the luxurious tent the young doctor had brought along for himself. She reached out to him under the covers and pressed a hand against his flat stomach. Kyouya sighed, irritated by having to share his bed with someone, but didn't wake her. Her hand was massaging his stomach rather nicely, anyway.

He gave out an involuntary moan and she massaged a little lower. Lower, until he felt her holding something that was quickly reacting to her antics. He groaned out of both pleasure and irritation.

"What are you up to, Miss Wakamura?" he asked, turning on his side so that they were nose to nose. She opened one eye mischievously and licked her lips. She had yet to release him.

"Please, doctor, call me Akane. I'm not feeling too well right now, you see…" she leaned in and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth. Kyouya let her do as she pleased, grabbing her hair and winding it around his hand. She moaned and deepened the kiss.

When they finally broke apart for air, she was sitting on top of him. It was only then that he noticed her skimpy negligee, black lace trimmed with red ribbon. He grabbed the hem and lifted it up over her head, carelessly tossing it to the side.

She smirked, bending over so that her pale, smooth breasts filled Kyouya's vision. Before she knew it, he flipped her over and pinned her arms above her head.

"You have no idea what you're in for," he whispered. She leaned up and sealed his mouth with another kiss.

As their tongues teased one another she pulled off his boxers and took hold of him again. He broke the kiss to moan aloud and brought himself to her opening.

"Be gentle," she said sarcastically. Kyouya nipped her neck and earned a squeal.

"As if," he replied, and thrust himself inside.

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"The ego, on the other hand, is learned from our environment," Francis continued, "It is our common sense that guides us in every situation. A rational self-interest, if you will."

Tamaki watched him carefully as he spoke. Francis gesticulated as though in front of a class, referencing periodically to some pretend black board behind him.

In the room next door there was a crash, followed by Jim's high-pitched laugh. Francis stamped his foot indignantly.

"Will you keep it down in the back, there? Class is in session!" He strode out of the room into the hallway, where an interesting scene was taking place.

Butch was holding Martha by the neck while she clawed at his shirt pathetically. Jim had Haruhi around the middle and was lifting her petite frame completely off the floor.

She turned her large, sad eyes to Tamaki, and they touched him somehow. Something in her messy and short brown hair, her skinny legs, made him want to protect her. She was too cute for this place!

He ran over and grabbed her out of Jim's hands, slinging her over his shoulder and making a run for the cafeteria. Butch dropped Martha and tackled Tamaki to the ground just as the three smashed through the swinging doors. Tamaki landed with his face in Haruhi's lap and something hard and unpleasant on his ass.

Lifting his head cautiously and looking behind him, he noticed Butch lying on him. He felt like he was going to throw up when Jim helped his partner up and rescued him. Haruhi patted him on the shoulder and shook her head, deciding at last to go quietly to her treatment.

"I'm sorry," Tamaki whispered. She looked him in the eyes again and smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat.

What a cute daughter I have, he thought happily. Butch was eyeing him strangely again, so he hobbled (he had bruised his knees in the collision) back to Francis before he could get any ideas. Martha watched him go by with narrowed eyes. How Tamaki longed to explain that this was not his fault.

"You also seem to be lacking some ego," Francis said, snickering at Tamaki's failed attempt at rescue. The younger man just shrugged.

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"He was surprisingly good," Akane said to herself as she rooted through Kyouya's bag.

He had fallen asleep after two rounds, giving her the time she needed to go through his belongings.

"Ah, here," she said, grinning widely. She pulled out the investigation regarding the fired kitchen assistant and began leafing through it, standing naked next to the bed.

All of a sudden, she felt something cold against the small of her back. She twisted her neck a little and saw a small metallic gun barrel pressed against the bottom of her spine. Kyouya turned on a lamp and his face came into view, shadowed eerily by the weak light.

"If I shoot right now you will probably die. If you live, you won't ever be able to walk again nor even have children. If I hit your kidney on the way out, that's bonus points for renal failure, really," he said, using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose.

"You bastard," she whispered. He smiled widely at that and pressed the gun harder against her back.

"Drop the papers, Miss Wakamura, if you don't mind," he continued. She let them fall to the floor.

"Outside this tent is surrounded should you manage to escape my clutches." He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"I will never tell you anything," she replied harshly, "even if you shoot!"

He shrugged, finding her response boring.

"I don't need you to tell me anything," he countered, causing her to gasp, "I already know everything about you. You see, you asked me once, my dear, why I didn't use the family private investigator for this. The thing was, you were rather suspicious, volunteering to help me like that and all. After you refused to let me in the Onibaba's room I set him on you. I have your entire background compiled and waiting for me at home."

Akane was on the verge of tears.

"Then why did you play along for so long? Why did you drag me out here?" she cried, frustrated with his carefree attitude.

"Several reasons. Mostly to have this conversation. You were surprisingly good too, Akane," he responded, grinning rather evilly.

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"Ok, ok," Tamaki said, lifting up both hands in surrender, "So what's this superego thing that I'm "afflicted" with?"

Francis smiled the smile of a deranged man and clapped his hands together.

"The superego is your conscience. It is your mind's answer to your body's Id. Your sense of morality. It is what truly separates us from beasts," he said proudly. It was clearly his favorite of the three.

"But, you must be careful, my dear Frederick, careful…" he muttered, trailing off. Tamaki wanted to say "My name isn't Frederick," but decided to just let it slide. He stood up, realizing that Francis was probably finished now.

"Be careful!" Francis cried, turning around so suddenly that Tamaki fell back down on the bed, "Be careful or you'll be eaten! Just like Frank! Frank, who felt it was his duty to free us from here! Don't try to take anyone with you, just go! It's my fault that you died—Frank, please forgive me, Frank!"

Francis had now pinned Tamaki against the wall and was shaking furiously, almost foaming at the mouth. An alarm went off somewhere. Whoever was watching the camera had had just about enough of this nonsense.

Gertrude strode into the room flanked by Butch and Jim. She snapped and they removed Francis immediately, taking him somewhere Tamaki couldn't guess.

"Watch out, or you're next," Gertrude said over her shoulder as she left.

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Kyouya smirked as he watched Akane's naked form standing in the middle of the forest, her bag at her feet. She resolutely bit back her tears.

"You should just kill me and get it over with," she called out over the whirring of the helicopter as it started to move. Kyouya paused on the ladder and turned back.

"That's not my style," he replied, "I'm a doctor; I'm morally obligated not to kill people." She flipped him off.

"You're going to regret it," she called back again. He waved goodbye.

"I hope I do," he said to himself, "I hope I do."

DM: Whew, a lot of stuff happened just then. Sorry for you guys who were hoping for a little smut, but I'm not ready for full-on lemon in this story yet (to be honest, I have yet to master the art of describing an orgasm without sounding cheesy). In later chapters, yes, but not right now. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! I hope this made Kyouya's storyline a bit more exciting…Did you guys get how the Id controls Kyouya in the sex scene and then the Ego when he catches her and then the Superego when he lets her live? I'm so proud of that, hee hee! Next Chapter: Treatment