Disclaimer: Wah! I own Inuyasha and have nobody to share it with! Just kidding…

A/N: Thank you, everyone who reviewed. Oh, I made people cry! I'm sorry, but at least that means I got the effect that I was going for.

Miroku- ...baka. All righty then, warnings for this chapter. Language, mentions of drug use, mentions of abuse, and more into the tragic life of everyones favorite bishounen hentai.

(eyes light up) Vash the Stampede is here?!

Miroku- (faints)

Sesshomaru took another sip of coffee, frowning as the bitter liquid entered his mouth. Honestly, couldn't these people even afford to make good coffee?

"Cheap bastards," he said, seemingly speaking the silver haired mans thoughts.

"Hai," he agreed as he sat his Styrofoam cup on the table. His golden eyes scanned the cafeteria, searching for a certain dark haired nurse, who for reasons unknown, wasn't hovering around the man sitting in front of him like some type of vulture; a concerned, well-meaning vulture, but a vulture none-the-less. Since their 'session' the week before, the two had rarely been seen apart. "Where is she?" Sesshomaru finally questioned.

He blinked innocently, as if he had no idea whom he could be talking about. "Where's who?"

Rolling golden eyes in slight annoyance, he answered, "Martha Stewart, you utter moron."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Isn't she dead?"

Instead of fainting for his stupidity in an odd, animated sort of fashion like some people around him seemed to have a tendency to do, one of Sesshomaru's eyebrows merely twitched. Before he could open his mouth to lecture the man in front of him about just how much of an idiot he truly was, the woman he'd been speaking about only moments earlier had taken a seat beside him.

"Good morning," he said, giving her a charmingly smile.

She returned the smile. "Good morning," she said. The two just continued smiling, genuinely happy and even relieved to be in each others company. Though, who wouldn't be? In the past weeks they had known each other, they'd come to share some odd kind of bond that neither could really place. And while under conditions such as this, they were both thankful that they had someone they could talk to, even confide in.

"Well," Sesshomaru said as he stood up. "If the two of you are going to continue making googily eyes at one another, I suggest you do so in private. You know how its looked down upon when you employees mingle with we lowly addicts."

The two watched him stalk away. A light blush came upon her cheeks, but it quickly faded as she turned to the man sitting next to her.

"Has something been bothering him? He seems a bit uptight."

He raised an eyebrow and she chuckled.

"More so than usual, I mean."

He shrugged. "I think he's still a tad bit upset about the whole platypus thing."

Smiling, she questioned softly, "Are you actually going to make him do that?" Though she did admit, it would be very amusing to see, it wouldn't be exactly kind to force the other man into a position of such humiliation. Sesshomaru was someone who was used to having complete control over a situation; being admitted to the Center was enough of a sting on his pride.

"Of course!" he answered, smiling happily to himself. "A deal is a deal. Besides, it would wound his honor if he went back on his word."

She merely smiled at him, shaking her head. He returned the warm smile. Without thinking, he lifted his hands and brushed away her bangs. His smile widened as a light blush spread across her pale cheeks. Yumi Kurosawa watched, dark brown eyes narrowed into slits, as the two of them laughed. The gray haired administrator frowned as the two got up, the woman leading the still chuckling dark haired man out into the small side garden located just outside of the cafeteria.

Dr. Takahashi walked up beside the silently fuming woman. He smirked at her, dropping his plastic lunch trey onto the table as he sat down. "I see you still don't approve of her giving him personal therapy sessions, do you?" he questioned knowingly. He could practically feel her eyes boring into her neck, which only caused his smirk to grow wider. He knew of her hatred for the young woman; why she disliked her so much, he didn't know. Perhaps it was because she reminded Yumi so much of herself when she was younger; kind, beautiful, generous and loving, before years of bitterness had worn down her senses and left her nothing but a hollow shell of a person.

She slammed a fist onto the table, causing the doctor to wince almost in surprise as he snapped his gaze to meet her own. "This is your fault," she hissed into his ear.

"My fault? It was her idea."

"You agreed to it," she countered, her dark eyes dangerously narrowed.

Dr. Takashi merely returned the glare. "You're just being a bitch, Kurosawa," he replied casually, taking a sip of orange juice. "I think the program is working rather well. Both of them are busy, and we don't have to deal with either of them. I see nothing wrong with the way…"

He was cut off as his trey -which had been piled with a bowl of cereal, an apple, and his orange juice- flew off of the table and landed clattering onto the floor. He looked down, blinking his eyes before he looked up at the woman standing beside him.

"You know Takashi," she said cruelly. "I really should get around to firing you one of these days." With that she turned and stormed out of the cafeteria, leaving the doctor muttering profanities as he bent down and began cleaning up the mess.

---

He was sprawled out across the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays on his face. It felt nice, to just be able to lie down and let his eyes close, without having to worry about everything else going on. It didn't hurt that she was lying next to him, a few locks of her dark brown hair spilling out onto his shoulders.

It had been one week since what he liked to refer to as 'the revelation' he'd had. He had spilled his heart out; told every sick, twisted little detail that he'd tried so long ago to bury inside of himself. He couldn't even really figure out why he had done it. But he had, and now, he was almost glad. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He had been so sure that by telling her, he would have pushed her away. That she would have stared at him with a mixture of pity and disgust and then abandon him like so many others had in his life. He'd been prepared, ready for the sting of the cut that would be made as soon as she told him to get the hell away from her; or worse, call the police and turn him as the murderer he'd always believed himself to be.

But when he looked into her eyes, he'd come completely undone. They were so filled with concern and true, utter sympathy; not the pity that was thrown his way every now and then; true feelings, emotions, and they were directed at him.

He tilted his head, smiling softly at the woman lying next to him. 'I could really get used to this,' he thought to himself.

'Don't. What in the hell are you thinking? Oh wait, your not thinking. You never think. Do you truly believe she feels anything other for than just misplaced pity? You truly are just a poor little bastard, aren't you? She will never care for you, not truly. No one ever has; no one ever will. You're such a moron. You've known her what? Almost three weeks, is it? And you're already starting to fawn all over her like a love sick puppy. Though, that's all you are, isn't it? A pathetic, sniveling, dog. She'll break your heart; she doesn't want you. And she never will.'

Ignoring the continuously nagging voice in his head, he continued to smile at her. "Nani?" he questioned softly as he realized that while the voices in his head were metaphorically beating the shit out of his already bruised and bloodied ego, she had asked him a question.

"What…did you want to be?" she asked again. "When you were growing up, what did you want to do with your life?"

He turned on his side to study her. His gaze lingered on the lines of her face, smiling slightly. Then he laughed.

She nearly shot up when she heard the smooth chuckle escaping his lips. She stared at him, more then a bit surprised. "What?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

He gave her a bright smile. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head a bit. "It's just…you're the first person that's ever asked me that."

She propped herself up with her elbows, tilting her to the side. "Asked you what you wanted to do with your life?"

"Hai," he answered, nodding sadly. "My childhood, well, my entire life actually, has never really been picture perfect…if anything, it's been more like some majorly fucked up after school special. Growing up I never had anyone telling me," he paused for a moment, letting his voice drop deeper and taking a more serious expression on to his face. "…be all that I can be," he finished, doing his best to make mockery of the Army of One commercial he'd seen on TV a few times. She laughed a bit, despite the bitterness she heard in his tone.

"That's awful," she told him sincerely. "Everyone should be given the opportunity to succeed, and be pushed to do their best. And come on, there must have been something that you liked doing as a child."

"Well…"

"Something not being to grope the women," she added with a smile.

"Since you put it like that then…iie," he replied. "I don't know…really. Everyone I knew figured I wouldn't live to make it past eighteen anyway, so it's not as if they saw a reason to encourage me. No one has ever had any faith that I could ever do something. Either that or…they thought I wanted to live life in the streets."

He sighed at that, knowing that both were probably true. A small shudder went down him, remembering all of the cruel words that had been spat at him over the years.

You'll never be anything, kid.

You'll die out on the streets, just like your father.

What do you think that you, useless trash, could ever accomplish?

Tsume once, when he'd gotten just a bit too fed up with seeing his face at the police station. His mother once, in a drunken rage as usual. And Naraku, once. A scowl crossed over his features. He remembered the exact moment he'd spoken those particular words to him. It was the night, nearly two and half months earlier, that he'd told the raven haired drug Lord he no longer needed a dealer, that he was going to leave and make something of himself.

He was pulled out of his internal ramblings when he felt something light brush against his hand, feather like in its softness. His purple eyes trailed down his arm, looking down to see his hand being held gently; warm, soft, pale fingers loosely intertwined with his own in a soothing embrace. It was like -what he could only imagine, of course- the touch a mother would give a child; comforting and supporting. His gaze traveled upwards, and for a moment lingered on lips which looked just as gentle as the small embrace, then up even farther to meet eyes that were much like the hold on his hand; warm and comforting, strong yet yielding somehow.

"I have faith in you," she said softly but genuinely as she leaned in to him, brushing those soft lips against his cheek quickly before pulling back. A blush once again slipped over her features.

All he could do was stare in shock. In all of his years on the planet, he had never been kissed on the cheek, by anyone. Hell, he could probably count the number of times he'd been kissed on the lips on his fingers, and a little over half of those he had never wanted.

He liked to imagine that, when it came to matters such as these, intimate matters -he never, ever called them matters of the heart or romance, as a rule, because for him, things like this had never, ever been about feelings- there were to sides to the man he was; two people, with different conquests, different histories.

One man was pure and clean; simple and naive, who had only ever felt soft touches and warm embraces, meaningless as they were. One man who had gentle words whispered into his ear and murmured the same things to a face with no name. One man who had never felt love, but had never really felt pain when it came to such things.

Then, there was the other side. The one who was nothing like the other. One man who had not hidden away his shame as he stood out on a street corner at the age of fifteen, fluttering eyelashes, flashing pouting lips, drawling out a pick up line or two to each lonely looking woman who walked by. One man who had always felt some type of pain. One man who had never really had a choice in such intimate matters. One man who could say 'no' as many times as he wanted, even though he knew it would never matter.

It was easier this way, thinking that he could be two people. Much simpler in fact. He could believe that somewhere, deep inside of him, he was not broken; he still had something to offer to those who gave him those smiles and touches, and yet, he could still pull out the torn man and be able to fight when there was no longer any type of pleasure being offered, but words that stung, teeth that nipped painfully at flesh, hands that pulled and battered until he was nothing but a bloodied mass.

But the touch, the look, that kiss was nothing like anything he had ever experienced before. This was comforting, caring, genuine. He almost melted into those eyes and the way a slight bit of more warm pressure was applied, squeezing his hand in a reassuring manner.

'Why did I just do that?' she questioned herself. It was number one rule -other than the one about not actually giving a damn about the patients, though that was unspoken it was most clearly understood- that the doctors and nurses did not engage in any type of relationship with the patients other than professional. 'Kami, if Kurosawa ever saw me, I'd be fired in a minute.'

In all honesty, she supposed she did know why she kissed him and reached down to hold his hand. He had looked so sad, so venerable in that moment, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. She had seen the flickers of emotion running through his face before her action, and had seen the way his body seemed to cringe after. He was remembering, and that was the only thing she could guess. 'What has he been through, all those years on the streets?' She could only imagine the tortures that might have been inflicted, and that made her grip on his hand tighten even more.

'I will help him get past it. He deserved so much better, and somehow, I'll find a way to give it to him.' She laid back down, daring to scoot a tad bit closer to him. Her face heated but she tried to ignore it as much as she could. If someone caught them, there would be Hell to pay. But if they didn't…

It'd been a long time since she could just lay back in the grass, smiling lazily like she didn't have a care in the world. Which was odd, because that wasn't the way she should be feeling. She was supposed to be helping him, doing everything she could to bring him back, working and pushing herself to the edge, yet she felt completely comfortable, relaxed. Helping him suddenly wasn't her job, it just seemed…natural. The feeling, awkward as it was, somewhat comforted her.

"So…nothing?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he seemed distracted. She couldn't help but smile as she lifted up, seeing the serene yet confused look on his face.

'I must have really caught him off guard. He didn't even grope me.'

"You didn't have any ambitions when you were younger? I find that hard to believe," she persisted lightly. "You seem like someone who would want to become something…" Her voice trailed off unsurely.

This time, it was he who squeezed her hand back. "Actually, I kind of wanted to be a monk.."

She nearly choked on her next breath. "A monk?" she questioned.

He looked over, frowning at her softly. "Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, chuckling softly.

"A bit…yes. What would all the women say, when they went to visit the monk who instead grabbed their back side?"

He laughed again. "I don't know…" he said, trailing off. "What about you? Did you always want to help people?"

"This isn't about me…"

"I know," he cut her off. "But I like learning about you. So, did you?"

She sighed for a moment as she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin at the top of her knees. A thoughtful look came over her face for moment. "Yeah," she answered. "I saw the way people treated each other; they used and abused one another. It always made me sick, how someone could treat another person as anything less than human." She tilted her head to look at him. "So yes, I suppose so."

"You're good at it," he muttered absently.

A small nod, light blush, soft smile and he felt like melting again. Being in this Center wasn't really so bad after all…

It was only the matter of getting out.

I try
To be the man I am
In times of broken lives
And shattered dreams and plans
Standing up to fight
The pressures and demands
Staring at the knife
And holding in your hand
What used to be your life

This world is crazy
My dreams are fading
I want my life

You fight
Your holy wars
Fire anti-Christ
Jesus will come down
And help us win tonight
Now how should I feel
I think I feel alright
So tell me where to aim
I'm blinded by the light

This world is crazy
My dreams are fading
No one can save me

I want my life

And when I wake up you'll be here
And it will be the way it was

I Want My Life: Smile Empty Soul...(but uh...you guys already knew that, didn't you?)