DM: Hello hello! I know I haven't finished Be Careful What You Wish For, but inspiration for this fic hit me like a truck, so here it goes. Go to my profile page for the full summary, if you like.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club or any of its characters. This story was inspired by One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which belongs to Ken Kesey, and not me.

The Ward

I

Imprisonment

Tamaki took a deep breath and sighed happily. Antoinette tugged at her leash, barking at another dog in the park. They were on their way home after a nice long evening walk.

Before he left, Tamaki's father had begged him to let servants walk Antoinette (about once a month he went on a rant about how Tamaki should behave), but he refused. It was very relaxing and enjoyable, and besides, Antoinette liked him best anyway.

It was a nice evening, really, and if it hadn't gotten dark so quickly, Tamaki would have liked to stay out longer. But dusk had deepened to black in what had seemed minutes, like a curtain dropping over the park and swallowing up Tamaki's elongated shadow. One by one people disappeared from the park, until he and Antoinette were walking alone on the path together.

"We'll show Daddy when he gets back that Antoinette and Tamaki can't be separated," Tamaki said, kneeling down and patting his faithful dog's head. Antoinette licked him and he laughed. They continued their walk, Tamaki adjusting his long steps to her happy trot.

A breeze blew in from in front of him, caressing his cheeks and already cold hands. Antoinette continued indefatigably to walk and even seemed to increase her pace. Tamaki reluctantly came in step once more.

Tamaki's father was overseas on business and had left the day before. Unfortunately, Tamaki, the next in line to take the company, could not be with him. He was left to take care of the main Suou mansion with his grandmother.

He shivered, remembering her cold stare when they encountered each other in the entryway. After preventing him from seeing his mother, forcing him to live in Suou mansion number two his entire high school and college life, and refusing to eat with him at meals, she still had the gall to say, "You should get a job doing that," when she saw him hook up Antoinette to her leash.

Tamaki had never asked to be the son of a mistress. It was not his fault that his father loved his mother.

That familiar mixture of anger and self-righteousness welled up from his stomach. His grip on Antoinette's leash tightened and he set his teeth unconsciously. Then the anger died down into self-disgust. Despite her cruelty towards him and his mother, Tamaki never ceased to vie for her attention, to seek some kind of approval from the old matriarch. As many times as he was rejected, he could never once say to himself, 'I don't need her.'

During this brief rush of emotion, Tamaki had unconsciously quickened his pace and drawn abreast of Antoinette. Sensing an air of competition, the dog in turn sped up and gained a lead once more. When he realized that they had come to the end of their tour of the park, he was already being dragged down the causeway of the Suou estate.

The main mansion loomed up ahead of them. Tamaki was still slightly intimidated by it, although he had been living there for a year already. He still had a bad feeling every time he entered it, as if he was going to his doom.

He paused at the door. It was odd for no one to open it (usually a maid spotted him from a window and opened the door to welcome him) and even more odd for the chandelier in the entry hall to be off after nine.

"Hello? I'm home!" Tamaki called, opening the large (and heavy) door with both hands. Antoinette sat on the side and watched as he struggled. He walked around and peered inside.

The hall was pitch black. He felt along the wall searching for a light switch. He found one after walking about twenty feet, and hit it. Luckily, it was the large chandelier.

The scene that met his eyes would forever be etched into his memory.

The tiled floor was covered in blood, leading to a fallen body in a kimono. It was his grandmother, her lifeless eyes staring straight ahead. Blood pooled from a gaping wound in her neck. Antoinette barked angrily.

At first he didn't quite comprehend it, and made the mistake of looking into those glassy eyes, already beginning to milk over. He then became vaguely aware of a weakness in the knees, and the feeling that ice had been poured down his back.

Each breath hitched, as though he were trying to will her to breath with him. But he was too late, she was being blurred out by dark spots. Tamaki had never been good with blood, yet he found his traitorous knees slowly sinking him down into the thick, glassy pool. There were more spots now, crowding over her body like flies, and eventually blotting out the entire scene.

The next thing he knew he was in the back of a car with a dull pain in his wrists. He blinked stupidly as the two people in front came into focus. They were police officers, he could see now. He looked down at his hands and realized that the ache was from handcuffs.

"Excuse me," he asked "Where are we going?" The two officers looked at each other and smirked.

"We're going to the police station, son," the driver said. They laughed.

Nobody said anything for the rest of the ride.

They pulled up to a small, dingy looking building next door to a bar. Tamaki was barely out of the car when a man came flying out the window of said bar, sending glass shards and specks of blood flying everywhere. A man in uniform came to the window.

"Oh hey, fellas!" he called to the two officers. Tamaki had crouched behind the car when the man had flown out, and decided that it was best to remain there while this person was in sight.

"Your shift starts in an hour," one of the two replied. The beaten man gave a horrible cough, and Tamaki was sure he heard liquid spew out.

"Yea, just let me pack away a couple more beers, an' I'll be right over," the off-duty cop said, his voice diminishing with each word, indicating that he was walking back into the bar. Tamaki slowly came out from behind the car.

The officers grabbed him and shoved him towards the building. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the fallen man, his clothes filthy and stained with blood, still struggling to get up.

"Hey!" one officer yelled, pushing him again. "You wanna end up like that?" he threatened, leering. Tamaki shook his head and obediently walked to the building.

He was barely in the door, when he was thrown into a small cell to the left. It slammed behind him with a ringing finality.

Tamaki struggled to find a clean patch on which to sit down, as the cell was absolutely rancid.

"You get one phone call," the cop who had driven him said. He spoke with the other officer under his breath.

"Ootori Kyouya. I want to call Ootori Kyouya," Tamaki croaked, huddled on the floor and trying to keep his Armani loafers away from a suspicious-looking yellow spot on the other side of the cell.

All the family lawyers were either subordinates of his grandmother or away with his father. The one person he knew who could get him out of this strange mess was his best friend and future head of the Ootori Medical Group.

Ten minutes later, the sound of many tires screeching to a halt could be heard outside. The door opened and through it came Kyouya, barely hiding his look of disdain at his surroundings. Through the still open door Tamaki could see a group of men hoist the beaten man into an ambulance.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki cried happily. Kyouya gave him a small wave and a look that said, 'Quiet, you!'

When he faced the officers, Kyouya put on a false smile and began speaking with them in hushed tones. The two men seemed to weaken in the face of such incomparable class. Tamaki stood up, and leaned against the cell, straining to listen, and only heard the officers agreeing with everything that Kyouya said (Kyouya's sentences were intelligible from Tamaki's location). At last the discussion seemed to reach a conclusion.

"So Tamaki," Kyouya said curtly, waving the officers away and entering the cell "It seems you have really gotten yourself into trouble this time."

Tamaki attempted a smile at his friend's casual tone. Kyouya frowned and shook his head.

"You don't realize the situation at all, do you?" he asked, pushing up his glasses. Tamaki shook his head, but all traces of a smile left him.

"Nobody told me anything. I just woke up in a car, and now, I'm here," he replied, pausing between his short, abrupt phrases. He became nauseous as images of his grandmother started to seep into his brain. He threw up in the cell's trashcan.

Kyouya sighed, and then ran a hand through his sleek black hair. Tamaki could have sworn he heard Kyouya say, "Ugh, and the receptacle wasn't even lined." Only Kyouya would care about something like that.

"Your fingerprints and hair were found everywhere, even on her face," he said suddenly, as Tamaki wiped his mouth on his sleeve (he didn't care anymore about his clothes; really), "You were the last person to be seen with her before going out for a walk. A maid, wondering where your grandmother had been, as she had failed to order the lighting of the hallway, found you asleep in her blood with Antoinette still on her leash," he paused "Now do you understand?"

Tamaki slumped down onto the blotched and dirty bench and didn't answer. Kyouya took this for a 'yes' and continued talking.

"I have discussed the matter with my lawyer and we've decided that—"

"—I didn't do it! I was walking Antoinette! People saw me—" Tamaki burst out.

"—But she died at the time you claim to have left, according to the autopsy, making it appear to any onlooker that you killed her and went out to hide the weapon—"

"—I didn't do it." Tamaki interrupted again, "I didn't."

Kyouya patted him on the head as Tamaki began to cry. It was painful, the way the dry sobs choked out of his throat, and the tears were late in coming. His body shook as he fought down a sort of vindictive triumph that was originating from who-knows-where. It was true, to a certain extent, that she had got what she deserved. This idea made him feel even dirtier, sullied by his own emotions, and it was a few minutes before Kyouya could speak again:

"I know you didn't. Only people with brains commit murders."

Tamaki gave a small laugh. "Don't make me throw my puke at you," he joked half-heartedly, gesturing to the can. Kyouya put his hands up in surrender and then continued in his previous business-like tone:

"Now then, I have a plan—"

"—wait, but since I'm innocent, I'm sure they'll understand," Tamaki persisted, clinging to a shred of the optimism that had kept him going all his life. Kyouya smiled sadly, on the verge of tears himself.

"I'm sorry, Tamaki. But that naïveté is what made them target you. They have framed you perfectly," he said, shaking his head, "Now listen up, ok?"

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The day of the trial arrived.

Tamaki shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked up towards the window. It was very small and its light was feeble. His father had yet to come back. In fact, Tamaki had no idea where he was. No one from the Suou estate had even contacted him in the month between his arrest and his trial, which he couldn't bring himself to worry about. A kind of numbness had now taken hold over him. He stopped throwing up so much, anyway.

He had spent his time with Kyouya and the Ootori legal team, preparing for a case that Kyouya assured him was 'foolproof.' Tamaki, despite his horrible experience on that night one month ago, still privately maintained a level of indignation: he was innocent, after all.

He longed to turn around and see Kyouya in the audience, but held still as the opening procedures began. The judge was an old lady with a wrinkled, shrunken face. Tamaki stood up with everyone else as she walked in, and then sat down, never taking his eyes off her as she slowly eased into the seat. She scratched her nose and coughed lightly. She was very thin and seemed to propel herself backwards merely by clearing her throat.

This woman was going to decide his fate. She could send him to be executed if she wanted to, with a wave of that gavel, which seemed altogether too heavy for her to lift.

"Suou Tamaki," she began, "You have been convicted of the murder of Suou Makoto. How do you plead?"

Kyouya's lawyer stood up hastily instead of Tamaki, who had jumped a little in surprise. The room went dead silent. Tamaki's heart began racing, and he began bouncing his leg uncontrollably, which was strange as he had never been very fidgety before.

"We plead insanity, your honor," he said. The judge raised an eyebrow and nodded. The prosecution team began staring at Tamaki intensely. He tried to swallow, but all his saliva seemed to have gone missing.

"I will require a doctor to testify in proof of his insanity. I will also permit the prosecution to cross-examine both the doctor and Suou himself," she said curtly, looking around the courtroom. She looked a little bored by the course the case was about to take. Nobody said anything, but Tamaki felt all eyes burning hotly on him. He tried to suppress a shiver and failed.

As Kyouya had predicted, the defense was allowed to speak first, in order to call upon their doctor.

"I call to the stand Dr. Ootori Kyouya," the lawyer said. From somewhere behind Tamaki, Kyouya walked up calmly to the witness' stand. Tamaki felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he passed. He was sworn in quickly and sat down.

"Doctor," the lawyer began, walking up to the stand, "How long have you known Suou Tamaki?"

This was according to what was rehearsed. Kyouya's credibility had to be established.

"About eight years now," Kyouya replied, "And I have observed increased paranoia and neurotic behavior over the years."

That last statement was complete bull, of course. Tamaki took his cue and began to scratch his arm like crazy. Whispers rose in the audience as he began to draw blood. He jumped in his seat, though even he couldn't judge whether it was from rehearsed or actual surprise. His leg continued to bounce and he wondered when he had become so scatterbrained. He found his eyes jumping from the prosecution (they were still staring him down) to the judge (she looked disinterested and had clearly seen something similar before) finally back to the lawyer, who was turning back to Kyouya.

"Would you care to elaborate?" the lawyer asked, although it was clear to everyone present the kind of behavior he was referring to. Kyouya turned his smile into a grimace, as though recalling something painful. Tamaki desperately wanted to say something—would he even be called to the stand?

"Yes. It was when we were nineteen and almost finished with our first year at university that I first started to notice that something was strange. I was, of course, in the medical section while he did business. He developed a habit of scratching himself constantly, so much so that he drew blood when especially agitated," he gestured to Tamaki's bleeding forearm (Tamaki had forgotten about it in the excitement), "He stopped sitting with his back exposed, and looked around him often while we were walking," he replied. He looked as though he were about to continue, when the lawyer held up a hand.

"Did he give any reason for this behavior?" he pursued.

"Well," Kyouya said, looking up towards the ceiling as if the answer were somewhere up there, "he never spoke to me directly about it except for once when we were twenty-one. He was drunk, and he said to me, 'Kyouya, I may die very soon. If I do, I want you to take care of Antoinette for me.' Naturally, I was shocked by this and asked him what he meant, but he only replied, 'They're after my life.'" Tamaki buried his hands in his hair. This was so frustrating, and he really wanted to get up and walk around, and the fact that he was in a courtroom seemed to matter less every second as the idea that he might be executed began to take hold.

The crowd in the room buzzed loudly. The prosecution team whispered amongst themselves. Tamaki sank down in his seat, staring up at the judge as she banged her gavel to restore order.

"The defense, your honor, would now like to present Exhibit A to the court," the lawyer now said over the still whispering prosecution (the judge gave them a stern look), gesturing to a notebook standing open on a table to the side. The entire court room snapped to attention, including Tamaki.

It was the notebook that was Kyouya's masterpiece. He had really thought of everything. Tamaki said a silent prayer of thanks for having the youngest Ootori as his best friend but couldn't shake the look of terror from his face while he did so. It still counted though, he figured.

It was a false journal that he and Tamaki had prepared in the cell. It was really nonsense stream-of-consciousness paranoid babble. The lawyer read an excerpt:

"'She is going to kill me like she killed Momma she stares at me every day with cold cold eyes she's evil she's evil,' from June 28, 2007. I will now read from the night before the mur—" he was cut off by Tamaki beginning to sob loudly. The judge banged the gavel repeatedly and the bailiff came and held him down as he struggled.

"In short," the lawyer said, after Tamaki had calmed down into silent tears (he wondered if they were fake), "Although we have no idea how, Tamaki killed his grandmother and managed to hide the weapon, in reaction to this perceived threat."

Tamaki continued to cry and began sobbing again. He had now convinced himself that he was going to be executed independently of the fact that the entire court, including the prosecution looked convinced that he was insane.

One member of the prosecution, a woman with sharp brown eyes and long black hair, still remained skeptical. The defense had rested its case (the lawyer even looked uncomfortable sitting next to Tamaki after that outburst), and now it was the prosecution's turn to examine witnesses. The woman, despite suggestions from her team that they waive their right to do so, stood up and called Tamaki to the stand.

Everything had gone smoothly up until this point, but Kyouya had counted on the prosecution waiving their right to cross-examine. Tamaki was sworn in, but as the woman approached he became more and more certain that he was going to be executed. The plan was going to fail, and he was going to die because someone was smarter than both him and Kyouya put together.

"Mr. Suou," she said calmly, undeterred by his clearly agitated appearance, "How do you feel right now?"

A simple question. It took Tamaki five minutes of looking around wildly before he could answer.

"I'm going to be killed, how do you think I feel?" he finally asked, seething. He was referring to a pending execution for murder. The court, the prosecutor, and the judge believed he was referring to some strange paranoia-induced vision. Kyouya felt a twinge of concern: he had never known Tamaki to be this good of an improviser.

Tamaki began crying again. The prosecutor looked embarrassed and quietly resigned from further questioning.

The closing statements went by in a blur for Tamaki, who was finally calming down from his previous fear. He was going to be ok. Kyouya's plan was working. The judge sighed.

"Alright, Suou Tamaki. You have been classified in a court of law as criminally insane. My sentence is for you to undergo treatment at Thorny Towers Home for the Disturbed, in Thorny Towers, New Mexico. Case dismissed," she said quickly. She clearly had bingo at five or something.

Tamaki sighed, a headache building up in the middle of his forehead from his earlier crying (he was getting those a lot lately). He was going far away.

Kyouya froze. This was not part of the plan. New Mexico? That was in America, a seventeen hour flight away! He had originally intended for Tamaki to be in an Ootori run hospital, but bribing the legal system was something forbidden by his father. As the rest of the court filed out, Kyouya stopped the judge.

"How long will he be treated there?" he asked, trying to seem as casual as possible. The judge smirked at him.

"As long as it takes," she said. She left quickly before he could ask her anything else.

Tamaki let the bailiff drag him towards the door, too tired from his previous antics to protest the ridiculousness of sending him to the middle of nowhere when Japan had plenty of fine institutions for him. Kyouya ran to him.

"Tamaki!" he yelled, and then turned to the bailiff, "Excuse me sir, please let me speak with him." The burly man shrugged and released him. Kyouya grabbed his arm with surprising strength and snapped him awake.

"What now, Kyouya?" he asked helplessly, "They didn't assign me to you like you planned." His voice was feeble.

"It's ok, it's ok," Kyouya reassured him, "Just pretend like you don't know English when you go there, and remember to scratch yourself often. I will find the real murderer here in Japan."

Easier said than done, but Tamaki didn't bother to argue with him. The bailiff lost patience and dragged him away. He waved goodbye sadly, a sinking feeling in his abdomen.

This was the start of the rest of Tamaki's life.

DM: So it begins. Yes, the name of the asylum comes from the game Psychonauts, which is amazing, I recommend it to all lovers of platformers. Please review and let me know how I'm doing.