I typed this right in the documents, so it isn't very well edited, and I haven't read through the whole thing. Tell me if you find mistakes or spelling errors. Enjoy the angst. Tell me if I need to up this to a teen rating.

Escape

The room was small and tastefully decorated with wooden floors and soothing beige walls. A beautiful wall scroll depicting bamboo and a winding, white water river hung above a small Shinto shrine. The shrine was simple with candles and minimal decoration. In the center of the floor was a low table with two cushions on each side. One seatless side was towards the shrine, and another facing a wide door that slid open to an equally simple and enticing garden. The door was ajar, and light spilled in, making the space inviting.

Itachi sat on one side, his legs curled beneath and hands folded in front of him. His partner, Kisame, had lumbered out the door only moments earlier. He was alone with the slight girl to whom the home belonged. They had needed a place to hide out for a while and commandeered the girl's house. It had been surprising when she had let them in wordlessly. Both Akatsuki knew the girl wasn't affiliated with their organization. The average person was frightened by the sight of them, and no one ever just let shady characters, like themselves, right in. Even though the circumstances were peculiar, they hadn't questioned it. After all, the girl would need to be disposed of after their stay. That, or a complete memory wipe. Considering her lack of protest, she could be a spy or another various enemy. Disposal was the smartest option, if not Itachi's first.

He stared at her, red eyes unfathomable. The young woman's brunette hair hung around her shoulders like a curtain and shadowed her eyes. Her kimono was blue with intricate green designs twisting up from the ends of her skirt and sleeves. She was also seated at the table, but her hands were hidden. A small part of him wondered about her name, about her silence, and of her secrecy. But another piece realized she wouldn't live long enough for it to matter. The more he watched her, the more he wished he could keep her from her dire fate. Something said to him that she didn't deserve what she was going to get.

He cursed at himself mentally. I can't give in to emotion so easily... I could endanger Sasuke. Even now he was thinking of his younger brother, the reason he was here now. Itachi had thrown everything away to protect him, and he was still willing, no wanting, to give him more. Sasuke's safety and well-being were everything to him. If killing the girl before him and pretending to not feel it would safeguard his precious brother, he would not hesitate.

There was the soft rustle of paper as she slipped a small sheaf of her sleeve. The movement was in slow motion with his sharingan, but he could still tell she had severe speed. Itachi also noted how she had managed to hide her hands. She's been hiding them for some time... Her reflexes are conditioned. A pen was the next object to emerge from her flowing sleeves.

Although he couldn't see her gaze, he felt the gentle touch of her eyes upon him. Itachi sat, still and attentive as she began to scratch the slender writing utensil across the blank surface with expertise. Minutes ticked by slowly, and the only sound was the blending of paper and pen in creation. Quicker than he expected, she pulled back, sliding the paper towards him. Communication in writing? Is she mute? More questions were drifting to him, but he dismissed them and took the paper.

Communication with pictures... Is she illiterate as well? He pitied her now, but hid it well. Finally seeing what was before him, Itachi winced in surprised. A picture of... me? The piece was in the true taste of an artist. His features had been exaggerated to intensify his beauty, and a receding background of foliage added intrigue. Its effect was one of allure and mystery. Giving the portrait one last once-over, Itachi motioned towards the wall scroll. "You did this as well?"

She nodded, still refusing to let him see her eyes or hear her voice. An artist... What a waste. He set the drawing back down, fully aware of the girl's coming end. Silence prevailed in a deeper sense now. The girl gestured for his hand from under her sleeve, and it somehow created 'sound.' Hesitating only momentarily, Itachi gave her his thin hand. The brunette took it, stroking it softly. He stared, unsettled by the action. Just as he was about to pull back, she released his with a small jump.

Another piece of paper was slid from the billowing veils of cloth around her arms. This time he watched the drawing come to life, instead of her. She started with a jaw-line, and slowly other features followed. A neck was next and then the head was topped with hair. Thin eyes were sketched in place, and defined with strength and profoundness. A perfectly carved nose and lips completed the basic structure. Itachi's eyes widened as the picture was refined into an image of his younger brother. ...Sasuke... He was awestruck. She defined his eyes, and detailed his wind-swept hair. It was the most breath-taking portrayal of his precious otouto he had seen. She seemed to worked harder on it, adding an appropriately barren and canyon-like background, as if she sensed his attachment to the image.

Itachi tensed. How does she know Sasuke...? It appears that I will have to kill her. I can't have him find me yet; I can't have him finding out any more than I tell him... The picture looked to be done, and she pulled back, watching it critically. He waited for her to hand it to him, but instead she fell back over it, pouring all her might into the next part. Itachi sat stiffly, unable to see her alterations. Finally, she straightened up, passing him the drawing.

Their hands brushed again, but the contact only last seconds.

Itachi reexamined the image. Sasuke appeared to be in pain, and she had drawn in tears. Even more perturbing was her addition to the background. The rock and cloud behind the younger Uchiha had molded together in a vague likeness of him. A picture really is worth a thousand words. He thought bitterly. Slowly, anger began to rise within him. The woman before him knew nothing of him, yet she let him into her home, she refused to speak, refused to let him get a proper look at her, and now she seemed to be dictating her own opinions with art. Even though he knew he had no true reason to be upset, rage was building inside him.

"Who are you?" His tone was sharper than he had intended, but he didn't regret his hostility. She nodded in disagreement and pulled in on herself. "Answer me." Itachi sounded cold, even to himself. "Say something." He let her glimpse his unprovoked temper in his glare. The brunette shook her head faster.

Itachi's patience with reached its end. He leaned across the table and she scuttled backwards, stumbling and falling the ground. As he advanced on her, he could see her face, twisted in fear, eyes squeezed shut. Aimless irritation held him, and he grabbed her wrist roughly, pulling her towards him. As he did so, the sleeve fell back, revealing her forearm. They both froze, and her eyes opening as Itachi's gaze fixed itself on her arm. ...Scars... The skin was discolored and warped in bands that wrapped and crossed over her fingers, palm, wrist, and arm. ...Dear god... He was horrorified. In a daze, he reached out for her shoulder. She flinched, but didn't fight him as he gently slid the kimono off her shoulder. ...More scars...

Itachi pulled back, loosening his hold on her. He was about to ask her about it, but his eyes found hers. His heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath. She was a plain looking girl, but her eyes more than made up for it all. They were a chilling blue-gray with green and hazel flecks. Itachi stared, completely awestruck. He watched her expressions change from shock, to terror, and rest on agony. She started to cry, and then, her sobs were mute.

Regaining himself, Itachi released her and reseated himself. Part of him was numbed, and another part aching for her. After a moment, she also collected herself, and sat across from him. The only difference was that he could now see her eyes. It was struggle to look away, made all the harder by the way she seemed accustomed to the attention he now paid her. Something else nagged at him more now, though.

"How did you get those?" Itachi referred to the scars without hesitation, and she didn't shy away from the question. She pulled out another piece of paper. "Can you speak?"

She scratched something and handed it to him. So... She's not illterate. Her scrawl was as breath-taking as her art. 'Not anymore.'

"What happened to you?" He knew he was being too familiar with her, but he had to know now.

Sighing, the girl took the paper back and turned it over. Minutes slipped by, and she returned the paper to him, face down, with her writing on the backside. Itachi turned it over. The image depicted blood, death, and pain. War. It sent a shiver down his spine. The 3rd shinobi war... In the middle of it all, he recognized the slight girl across the table from him. She was severely wounded, but stood amongst it all as everyone else lay in the debris. Her gaze deepened his sorrow. She couldn't be much older than him.

"How old are you?" She responded by motioning with her fingers. Eighteen... he counted mentally. Another shiver snaked down his spine. They shared a mutual look of sorrow.

Abruptly, she reached out and took the paper back. He watched her trace her fine script over it. When the picture was again in his possession, he read the caption.

The price of peace is war. And the innocent pay.

Now his stomach flipped. She doesn't deserve to die here, not like this... But then he wondered if he deserved the death he would get. Things had been set in motion for his self-orchistraited assassination five years ago. Someone like this deserves a future, happiness, comfort... safety... Someone to love her. Itachi felt sick, realizing he couldn't provide any of these things; if anything, he was about to deprive her of the chance at it all. Sasuke is more important... He told his screaming conscious. Sasuke is more important. I can't help her, but I can help him. The thought calmed him, but left still left him drained and with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

It was something they had in common. Two people deserving of things they could never obtain- a future, happiness, comfort, safety, and most of all, love. The shared absence of necessities held them together in an invisible bond and understanding.

The girl pulled out another piece of paper, and Itachi watched her write on it. She gave it to him with a pleading look. Itachi's stomach sank and his heart went cold.

Kill me.

Those were words he understood better than any others. For a moment her felt as though she was a piece of him. Her gaze begged him, and he couldn't deny her.

Itachi moved behind her, taking her neck in his hands gently. There were things he wanted to say to her, but it was too much to convey in minutes, so he instead remained silent. With one swift motion, he twisted her head, breaking her neck and giving her death. Her head fell forward and her hair curtained her face, with her eyelids forever sealing away her unique gaze. The girl's death was painless and quick. She passed with a smile on her lips.

He wanted to mourn, to somehow express sorrow for her, but it was out bounds for him. Uchiha Itachi was now a member of Akatsuki. He was not allowed to feel, to regret, or to mourn death. His only solace was being able to give her a quiet end.

Kisame stepped back in, eyeing the dead brunette. "What's this?" he scoffed.

"She tried to escape." Itachi answered without looking at his partner. And I let her.

This is a oneshot of exactly 2,100 words. O.o I typed on fan because I was away when I did it. I thought of it early one morning while half asleep, count it as a tribute to the end of Uchiha Itachi, chapter four hundred of Naruto. That last line, 'I'm sorry, Sasuke. There won't be a next time.' Absolutely broke my heart. Please review.