*Author's notes: Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter :] This one's a bit short, but I needed it to end where it did. Naruto and characters belong to Masashi

Iruka was sprawled out on Kotetsu and Izumo's living room floor, his fingers tracing the swirls in the wood. He hadn't said barely a word since he'd arrived, but Izumo didn't seem to mind. When he glanced over and saw how intent Iruka's gaze was on the floor he couldn't help but laugh.

"What is it?" Iruka's eyes sparked with curiosity and a small grin broke his solemn expression.

"I just remembered the look on your face when I told you Ko wanted hardwood floors." Izumo then crossed the room and laid himself on the floor beside his childhood friend, his head pillowed on Iruka's forearm. "You said it was mildly pretentious and thoroughly impractical for shinobi."

"I still think that," Iruka laughed.

"Well, it's better than carpet. And you know I'd do anything to keep Ko from whining all the time."

Iruka was almost acting normal, and Izumo was glad for it. He'd been extraordinarily concerned after Kakashi and Sasuke's little visit a few days back, but right now the only unusual thing about Iruka were the dark circles under his eyes. And anyway, it was about that time of year. But as quickly as Iruka's laughter had appeared, it disappeared. His eyes were clouded in thought and Izumo's heart plummeted as he witnessed the almost instant change in his best friend. He reached up and touched Iruka's jaw as a form of reassurance. Iruka caught the other Chuunin's wrist and held the fingers to his lips. His eyes were closed tightly, and his brows were furrowed.

"Talk to me," Izumo whispered, but Iruka only shook his head. "Then talk to someone. Please. Everyone's worried about you."

At that statement Iruka's eyes snapped open. "What?"

"Yeah," Izumo kept his voice measured as he continued, "Kakashi and Sasuke dropped in a few days ago, asking about you. I guess Naruto noticed something was off. He must have told them he thought you were dying or something, because they were quite serious about the whole thing. And they must be alerting everyone because yesterday in the mission room Genma asked if you were alright, and this morning Anko asked me if you wanted some more kava."

Iruka let out a shaky breath and rolled so that he was lying on his back. "Is it that bad? I hadn't really noticed."

Izumo dodged Iruka's question and instead countered, "Did you want some?"

"Some what?"

"More kava."

"I think I'm okay for now."

Silence enveloped the two friends for some time, both of them trapped in their own little world of thought. When Izumo spoke again, his voice was soft. He remembered talking to Iruka like this after he'd come back from that mission. "It's okay if you're not okay, you know. And it's okay to let people help you."

"I know that," Iruka responded. "I just... I don't know if there's anything anyone can do. I'm not sleeping; how are you going to fix that?"

"I really think you just need to talk it out. I mean, I know you talked about it in therapy after it happened, but you just told them what they wanted to hear and got the fuck out," Izumo almost laughed as he recalled a disgruntled thirteen-year-old Iruka muttering about his therapist. "Why do I have to tell him what I feel? He's the therapist; shouldn't he know?" He'd mutter while throwing stones into the pond behind his parents' old house. "Isn't he supposed to have the answers?"

"I'm totally not saying that you should go back to therapy," Izumo continued when Iruka didn't say anything, "But you can talk to me about it, or Ko. Ibiki could relate, if that's what you're looking for, and I know that Gen would listen. He'd probably even be able to lighten the mood a bit, you know? Maybe we can work some of it out so that you can at least get through a night."

Iruka just continued to stare up at the ceiling, and Izumo wasn't sure he was even listening. "And, you know, if you talked to Naruto, the kid might stop panicking everybody."

And then Iruka laughed. But it wasn't his usual bright, boisterous laugh. It was dark and cold and bitter, and it had been years since Izumo had heard that sound from Iruka. "He would look at me differently. As if I was broken. And I'm not. I'm over it."

"Iruka, if you were over it your nightmares wouldn't be seeping into the other aspects of your life."

Iruka almost growled and Izumo felt his friend's whole body tense, but the tanned Chuunin didn't move and didn't protest. Then he whispered, "You don't know what it was like."

"You're right," Izumo agreed readily, "You never told me what happened."

"I never told anyone. The only people who knew were Sensei, Sandaime-sama, and my therapist. And he only knew because he read the mission report, because I didn't want to tell him."

"You can tell me."

"No." Iruka's response was instant. "No, I can't. You have no idea... I wouldn't want you to know what I went through, what it was like...,"

"Ru," Izumo propped himself up on his arm and looked down into the eyes of his friend. He tried to make everything about himself soft; his voice, his eyes, everything. "We're all shinobi. We've all seen terrible things. You don't need to protect anyone from what happened to you."

At that, Iruka's whole body shuddered. It was true; they were all shinobi. They had all seen and done terrible things, and had had terrible things done to them. Ibiki, Anko, Genma, they wouldn't be traumatized by hearing what had happened to him. Hell, even Sasuke and Naruto had experienced multitudes of terrible, awful, horrible things and they were only nineteen. But knowing that on a cognitive level and being able to internalize and make use of that information were two whole different things. He knew, knew, that he could talk about it to pretty much anyone and that they would listen and it would help. But he didn't feel like that. He felt like if he said anything to anyone, their eyes would widen in surprise and then soften in pity, they would change the way they acted around him, they would treat him with kid gloves. And he couldn't handle even the thought of that. He'd been on his own, taking care of himself, since he was nine. He wasn't suddenly fragile, or broken, or weak. And if people started to treat him like that...

"Ru, we just want to understand," Izumo whispered, seeing the plethora of emotions flashing across his friend's face. He saw confusion, anxiety, determination followed by uncertainty, exasperation. But most of all Izumo saw fear. "We want to help. We want you to be able to feel safe, and to take care of yourself. And you don't, and you're not, and I'm not okay with that."

"Just let me think about it," Iruka murmured. "Just.. Just give me some time."

"Of course."

And then Iruka was gone in a puff of smoke, not even bothering to have stood up and leaving his flak vest and work satchel hanging by the door.