Uchiha Sasuke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_thedragon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sunshineverse2015-05-12 12:23 pm
not_thedragon) wrote in sunshineverse2015-05-12 12:23 pm
Entry tags:
[open] 05/10 - 05/13
Who: Sasuke and friends, the children's television show that no child should watch
When: 05/10 - 05/13
Where: A hospital room shared with Kakashi and all the adults expressing affection that surrounds him
Notes: Physically, he's pretty healed up. He's mostly under observation, and his charts are very basic due to classified information.
In some ways, quarantine had been relaxing. Most of the time had been spent feeling his bones knit together in the right ways, the delicate ligaments healed in stages and left to find their natural flexibility. They still felt fragile, though no longer as hesitant as they'd been holding the pen to write his brief report, and tired faster than normal. But that had been part of basic T&I training. Hand damage. He was lucky they hadn't taken any of the fingers off.
He was lucky they hadn't done any number of things. They'd wanted to convince him more than extract intel, he thought, and had tried to convey to the interrogator -- masked, voice coolly professional but familiar. It spoke to confidence in more than one way.
It was something he might have liked to chew over with more than the silence of the cell, or the simple scrolls left to him to entertain himself.
But he hadn't been trusted. Wouldn't be for a long time, perhaps; he'd seen as much in the tight drawn lines of the faces that passed through, assessing. Even after his two agents had materialized the day before his release, smiles brittle but voices firm, one with the terrible white twist of bandage still covering his eyes: Uchiha didn't act of his own volition. He hadn't, but he'd been susceptible to control.
That was the word that kept flickering through even in the relative comfort of the hospital. The medic-nin had tsked at him but rigged him with an IV for hydration, and it was maybe irrational to want to see the tamper-proof seal on the saline drip. Definitely irrational, but ... he'd been susceptible.
He closed his eyes briefly at the knock on the door, waiting to see if the footsteps wound around to his curtained half of the room, if he'd need to -- the most relaxing thing about quarantine, ultimately, was not needing to think about what his face did.
When: 05/10 - 05/13
Where: A hospital room shared with Kakashi and all the adults expressing affection that surrounds him
Notes: Physically, he's pretty healed up. He's mostly under observation, and his charts are very basic due to classified information.
In some ways, quarantine had been relaxing. Most of the time had been spent feeling his bones knit together in the right ways, the delicate ligaments healed in stages and left to find their natural flexibility. They still felt fragile, though no longer as hesitant as they'd been holding the pen to write his brief report, and tired faster than normal. But that had been part of basic T&I training. Hand damage. He was lucky they hadn't taken any of the fingers off.
He was lucky they hadn't done any number of things. They'd wanted to convince him more than extract intel, he thought, and had tried to convey to the interrogator -- masked, voice coolly professional but familiar. It spoke to confidence in more than one way.
It was something he might have liked to chew over with more than the silence of the cell, or the simple scrolls left to him to entertain himself.
But he hadn't been trusted. Wouldn't be for a long time, perhaps; he'd seen as much in the tight drawn lines of the faces that passed through, assessing. Even after his two agents had materialized the day before his release, smiles brittle but voices firm, one with the terrible white twist of bandage still covering his eyes: Uchiha didn't act of his own volition. He hadn't, but he'd been susceptible to control.
That was the word that kept flickering through even in the relative comfort of the hospital. The medic-nin had tsked at him but rigged him with an IV for hydration, and it was maybe irrational to want to see the tamper-proof seal on the saline drip. Definitely irrational, but ... he'd been susceptible.
He closed his eyes briefly at the knock on the door, waiting to see if the footsteps wound around to his curtained half of the room, if he'd need to -- the most relaxing thing about quarantine, ultimately, was not needing to think about what his face did.
no subject
Complaining about the small villages, clearly still active around the time Sasuke had been rescued (by Gaara and another Suna-nin and Tenten, and that stung in a weird way). His hands itched for the seal he'd been using to contain the map, the questions already on his lips for what trouble, and where, and exactly when.
And then he swallowed them. It wasn't his investigation anymore. He'd fucked up. Whatever the official reason was, whatever pretty words Obito used to dress it up, he'd fucked up. He'd blinded a man and now he was staring at a fixed point past Naruto's shoulder, rearranging words on autopilot -- he'd blinded a man so now -- no longer really seeing the source in front of him, just --
"If you've been hitting border trouble, you should report to T&I." Who was running point on the situation now? Itachi? "The sooner the better, while the details are fresh." Or the mask who had interrogated him, nondescript and noncommittal exactly as an Intel agent should be? "Provide time and date of assignments so they can be cross-referenced."