Oasis

Summary:

In his dreams, a young Hatake Kakashi hears a familiar voice calling out for help. Unable to sleep, the young Jounin takes to wandering the streets in the dead of night. Unnerved by the inability to understand the voice, Kakashi takes to his deceased sensei's notes on sealing. Could he... communicate with this voice, maybe?
In his dreams, a young Namikaze Minato sees a dashing ninja, startlingly reminiscent of his Chunin charge Kakashi drowning in darkness. Yell and cry as he might, his words never seem to reach the man. As he watches the shinobi slowly succumb to the cold shadow, Minato races to devise a seal to allow him to communicate with the mysterious man. Can he... save his life, maybe?
Time travel fic. Work-in-progress. Male x Male, possibly other relationships too. Kakashi and Minato centric

Now Beta-ed by the road I know!

1: Waking Nightmare

Konoha, 6 years after Kyuubi incident

H..l.p

He…m…

I..d..n..w…t..d…e

HELP ME!

With a choked cry, Hatake Kakashi shot upright in the middle of his tangled sheets, pained gasps for air ripping from his body. The 20 year old Jonin clasped a hand over his racing heart and tried to get ahold of himself. Shakily, he glanced around his spartan bedroom and pulled his mask down to escape the strangled feeling in his lungs. The rush of fresh air calmed his panic considerably, but a dense feeling of unease soon followed. It curled through him, settling somewhere near the pit of his stomach. Willing himself not to vomit, the Copy-nin swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood unsteadily.

Moonlight crept in the single window, illuminating the room and revealing the early hour. In the tiny bathroom across the hall, Kakashi splashed water across his face and caught his own dull gray eye in the mirror. The many sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on his physical appearance. Dark eye bags and a tense look on his bare face greeted him, and his unease rose. It gave too much away, his face.

A gentle pressure on his wrist snapped him out of his self-held staring contest but when he glanced down, there was nothing there. Sighing, Kakashi turned and walked toward the towels hanging limply behind him. As he dried his face, he reflected on what had just occurred.

"The same nightmare…" he muttered. "I could hear more this time, though, real words."

Kakashi pulled his mask back up and located his hiate-ate. After pulling down the metal plated headband to cover his most precious possession - his sharingan eye - he slipped on some standard shinobi gear and quietly departed out the bedroom window. Sleep was impossible now, and there was no point in sitting in his room doing nothing. When morning came, he would look for a solo mission within Anbu to distract him, but for now, wandering was probably the best option.

It was pitch black outside; the moon only a sliver of a crescent and streetlamps deemed unnecessary for a shinobi exclusive complex. It gave a great view of the night sky, though, and Kakashi traced the various constellations he could make out in the starlit void. Their positions confirmed it was only about three, nowhere near the standard six o'clock opening time for mission rosters. He would have to head back to his apartment to change into his uniform before he departed, too. A lapse in judgment, it seemed. Damn.

A small breeze stirred the air as he started walking in the direction of Hokage rock. The Yondaime's stone head wanted some company tonight, it seemed. Picking his way down the familiar silent streets, his sandals made no noise, even on the fine gravel of the trail to the top of the monument. As he approached the top, Kakashi sensed a chakra signature rushing toward the gates of Konoha. He knew the signature by heart, as he was prone to vacating the area whenever he sensed it…

"It's not even dawn yet, Gai," he muttered. "Can't training wait until, at the very least, witching hour?"

Shaking his head, Kakashi settled comfortably between two of his late sensei's spikes of hair and sighed. That voice he kept hearing in his dreams… it was so damn familiar. He knew he recognized it from somewhere, had heard it a thousand times, but its identity was lost to him every time he awoke. God this was frustrating! Throwing his hands up, Kakashi grabbed fistfuls of his gravity-defying hair and tugged his face towards his knees. He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream, cry, or laugh hysterically, but he could feel a noise building up in his chest that wanted to burst free so desperately it was almost painful. This wasn't like him, and Kakashi wasn't sure what to do about it.

Months. These dreams had been happening for months, and while he was glad for the break from re-watching countless faces fall under his chidori, this wasn't what he wanted. At first, everything had been black in the dreams, darker than anything Kakashi could remember, and it chilled him to the soul. But he wasn't unconscious or unaware in the dreams. Rather, he was always fully focused on the looming shadows around him, and it had been like that for about three months. One night though, it had changed.

XXXXXXXXXX

He was back in this all-consuming darkness again… It was too quiet, too black, too… wrong. He always felt paralyzed, helpless, aware of his limbs but unable to move them. This inability to protect not only himself but his comrades from danger ate at him, gnawing with a fierce accuracy directly over his heart. But then he heard it; a tiny sound so faint Kakashi wasn't sure it was actually there. Straining his ears, this time he was certain he heard something. It was too quiet to make out, but it was there, a waver in the darkness. He clung to it in relief, and its existence somehow lifted the massive weight from his limbs, allowing not only feeling, but motion. He still couldn't see anything, but he could move and breathe normally, which was more than he'd been able to do for the last several months. In that moment, he had naively believed he would be able to conquer the nightmare.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kakashi now reflected on the dreams in the months after that. Sometimes the noise would be more distinct, but most nights it remained as quiet as when he'd first heard it. He maintained his mobility, but was still surrounded by a darkness so black he wasn't even sure it could be called a color. As the nights passed though, the sound became stronger and stronger until, finally, he could tell that it was a voice. That's when the frustration had started. It wasn't just a voice; it was a voice he knew with absolute certainty that he recognized.

The dream had begun to wake him almost every night, disturbing him enough to talk to the Sandaime. That was a conversation he remembered with absolute certainty.

XXXXXXXXXX

"What did you need to discuss with me, Kakashi?" asked the old, wizened voice of the Hokage.

"I've been having these dreams lately, and they're not normal. For me anyway," Kakashi finished, shifting his weight from left to right.

Bright sunlight streamed through the window in the Hokage's office and Kakashi's sensitive nose could make out several smells in the room. Even through his mask, he could pick up the faint scents of tobacco, ink, and sake. It was a warm day, one in the middle of June. The 22nd, he remembered.

"Have you mentioned these dreams to anyone else?" The Sandaime asked, his expression serious. "A Yamanaka, perhaps?"

Uncomfortable, Kakashi's weight shifted again. "No, Hokage-sama. I don't want anyone poking around in my head, and I knew if I mentioned it to someone from the clan that would be the only thing they would suggest."

The Hokage sighed. "Kakashi, have you considered taking a break from the corps for a while? When was the last time you took some time off?"

Left to right. "About five years ago now, sir."

Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyes darkened a little. "Maybe you should consider-"

"I don't mean to be insubordinate, Hokage-sama," Center, now. "but I do not believe my frequency of missions has anything to do with this. If anything, my missions have slowed down considerably since I have started to work alone."

Sighing even deeper this time, Hiruzen attempted to meet Kakashi's gaze, even as it was situated somewhere near the bottom of his desk. "The easiest way for us to understand what is happening would be to evaluate your memories, and maybe even have a Yamanaka dream walk with you. Because you are so adamant about keeping people away from your head, however, perhaps seals would at least work to suppress the dreams."

Kakashi's single visible eye widened at this suggestion. "There's a seal for that?"

"One, yes," The Hokage agreed. "I am aware of a seal that the Yondaime created for this very same reason."

"Minato-sensei?" Kakashi asked, surprised.

The Hokage nodded. "Minato, yes. He also had several confusing dreams he wanted to take charge of, I understand. If I remember correctly, it is a seal placed anywhere on the skin to allow the user full control of his or her dreams."

"What is it?" the Jonin asked, his eyes snapping up as desperation permeated his thoughts.

Hiruzen turned to look out his window at the bright day. "Unfortunately, I do not know. Jiraiya, being Minato's sensei, is the only one still alive that might have any knowledge beyond what I have. However, as you very well know, he is currently nowhere near the village."

"Do you know where to find him?" Kakashi asked, feeling anticipation drain out of him as his shoulders slumped and his eyes drifted back towards the ground.

"No, I am afraid I don't, Kakashi," the Hokage said apologetically.

The Copy-nin felt hopelessness envelope him once again. He realized with dread that if he wasn't able to find Jiraiya, Kakashi would probably be left to solve this on his own. Minato had taught him some things about sealing, but not nearly enough to create a workable seal of that complexity.

"Kakashi," the Hokage started. "I really do believe you need to take a break from the corps. Anbu is obviously taking a toll on you, and you're still young. At this rate, the only thing that is going to come from this is your failure in missions, and potentially your death."

Kakashi felt irritation swirl through his body again, and his stance tensed.

"Kakashi," the Sandaime said, and in the tone of his voice was unquestioning authority . "You have the week off. Take a while to consider your health. I am not one to throw my peoples' lives around carelessly."

Kakashi could feel the Hokage's eyes bearing into his, but he forced his face to remain unmoved.

"Yes, Hokage-sama," he said, his expression betraying none of his helpless irritation.

Hiruzen sighed deeply and broke the tense moment. "You are dismissed."

With those words, Kakashi had used a Shunshin and quickly escaped the suffocating office.

XXXXXXXXXX

Seals. It certainly was a good solution, but in reality, it would be next to impossible to pull off. Jiraiya was almost never in the village now with Minato gone, and there was little hope Kakashi would run into him on one of his missions. Still sitting atop the Hokage monument, he considered the problem again. Fuinjutsu wasn't his specialty, admittedly, but thanks to having a seal master as a sensei, Kakashi had picked up a thing or two about how they worked over the years. His ability to copy any jutsu had seen certainly helped too. Suddenly, the Copy nin's head snapped up. See it, the shinobi thought with urgency. If I could find that seal and copy it with my Sharingan, I could replicate it easily.

The Yondaime had died during the sealing of the Kyuubi and leftbehind an infant son. He'd had no one to claim his possessions, and Kakashi now wondered if the seal was stored somewhere along with hundreds of others. If he could just figure out where, he could find it and copy it. Unfortunately, there was no way he would get permission for this, so he'd have to locate Minato's things on his own, and without being caught. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly legal. He would be stripped of his position faster than someone could say "mistake" if that happened.

Was it worth it?

Glancing up, he saw the first streaks of dawn, light blue tendrils reaching into the black sky. Birds stirred in their nests, ready to greet the day. He could always just leave the problem alone and try to ignore the dreams. He could also visit a Yamanaka. Inoichi was retired, and had a daughter now. Kakashi was certain there would be far more privacy and far less backlash if he sought out Inoichi rather than an active shinobi. Legally, the Yamanaka would no longer be required to tell the Hokage, and if Kakashi asked, it would be kept secret. The last thing he needed was to be removed from the missions roster. Finally, of course, was the option of going through with his outrageous plan, and facing the consequences if he actually was caught. That one had the lowest chance of succeeding, but also the best reward.

With frustration, Kakashi stood slowly and stepped forward, until he was leaning almost precariously over the edge. At his movement, a small leaf caught in the breeze and fluttered toward the ground far below. It started to blow out of sight and he followed it slightly with his body. Staring down, he wondered how far the drop actually was. Far enough, a dark part of his mind whispered. There was always the option of simply letting himself fall..

The thought took his body even further over the precipice and it was then that he felt it. He had felt it before, too; always in those times when he went too far down the rabbit hole, too far into the darkest reaches of his mind. And now, as Kakashi hung over the edge of the monument, he sensed the phantom of a human behind him, its presence holding him back from teetering over the edge.

But something was different. For the first time, there was touch, warmth. He could feel invisible limbs wrapped around his midsection, the unmistakable press of a firm body against his back. Time seemed to slow around him, and in that hushed, tense silence, he was sure he felt the beat of a heart, the whisper of a voice. And in sudden shock, as surely as he had ever known anything, he knew it was not a phantom behind him. It was a ghost.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Konoha, 6 years before the Kyuubi incident

Light filtered into his consciousness, and Minato knew he was having the dream again. Although to call it that seemed wrong; these dreams always felt more real than any he'd ever had.

They had started several months ago, almost directly after the completion of his genin team. Only 18, Minato was barely old enough to claim maturity himself, and he had been put in charge of three impressionable, young children. And they were only eight years old for crying out loud! Both Nohara Rin and Uchiha Obito were freshly graduated and ready to take on the shinobi world with ironic enthusiasm. They were going to become killers, and neither grasped the severity of the concept. Not yet. They would soon, however, as from what the Sandaime had told him, war was brewing.

He'd been in charge of the third child, Hatake Kakashi, since the boy's graduation from the academy at the age of five. Kakashi was not an average ninja. He was a genius, promoted to Chunin at the young age of six, and now striving for Jonin. The ambition? It was a great thing. The reason for it, though, was not. Kakashi's father Hatake Sakumo, the White Fang, had committed suicide after failing a mission and condemning Konoha to political issues that would then lead to war. Minato personally considered the White Fang a hero, sacrificing the mission for the lives of his comrades, but his name was now taboo. He was used as an example of why people shouldn't break the rules, publically shamed by the villagers. Kakashi now worshipped the rules, determined to clear the Hatake name of his father's shame.

Minato felt the dream around him sharpen into focus, and saw the now familiar man washing his face in a bathroom sink. He was shaking slightly, and looked about two steps away from tears. Concerned, Minato stepped forward and placed his hand lightly on top of the panicked shinobi's wrist. Immediately, the man took a deep breath and seemed to calm a little, before turning to dry his face.

Strangely, what with the mask and the silver hair, he looked disturbingly similar to Kakashi, if Kakashi had been older and missing an eye. Perhaps it was that similarity that made him feel so protective toward the man. Minato had taken to calling him Jin Kowaku. The mystery man had appeared so many times in his dreams that giving him a name seemed somehow fitting.

Minato always felt bad when he saw Kowaku without his mask; he obviously wore one so no one could see his face, but Kami-sama did he have a nice one. Face, that is. The blond could feel some color invading his cheeks as he turned away while the silver haired shinobi dressed in his standard shinobi clothing, including a Konoha Jounin vest.

In these dreams, Minato had always assumed they were in Konoha, even though chunks of the village were missing, seemily replaced. Even with the changes, it looked like his village; they wore the headbands and uniform, and Kowaku had seen Sandaime-sama. Unfortunately, because the silver haired Jounin was an Anbu, he didn't often see many other shinobi without masks. It was irking.

Going out at this hour? Minato internally questioned as Kowaku stepped towards his window. You're not dressed for a mission, and you don't seem very stable right now. I hope you don't do something foolish. Again.

Kowaku had a habit of becoming stupidly self-sacrificial on his Anbu missions, willing to work himself to death. Once, he'd been out of the village for a month, and after arriving back at two in the godforsaken morning, he had tried to rise again at five to go retrieve a new mission. Minato had gently coaxed him back to sleep at the first signs of consciousness, not willing to let his exhausted companion risk himself again so soon. Kowaku seemed much more perceptive of Minato when he was asleep.

Minato snapped out of his musing and followed Kowaku out into the streets. The man's apartment complex was pitch black, with no light for several blocks up the road, barely distinguishable with Minato's limited vision. It was cold, too, with a slight breeze of freezing air working its way through a star-filled sky. Minato placed himself next the Jonin and blocked the worst of the chill from his side.

As much as he valued these encounters, though, he hated the frustrating hearing and sight problems. Sure, Minato could see Kowaku clearly, but anything further than maybe 10 meters was almost blurred beyond recognition, and he couldn't hear anything. He also had to stay near Kowaku at all times because his range of sight was generated by him, it seemed. Minato had been impossibly lost one time when he fell behind during an Anbu mission and had wandered aimlessly for hours until he woke up. He had no intention of repeating that.

Glancing at where they were headed, he noticed a familiar gravel path, and realized they were headed towards the top of the Hokage monument, although the faces were obscured from his vision. Kowaku liked to sit up here and think, Minato had learned over the past several months. In the real world, Minato often retreated to the top of the monument in times of stress too.

The blond looked out over the view below them, able to make out several blurry lights even in the early morning. Kowaku shivered a little, prompting Minato to sit closer. For some reason, he had an urge to protect the man next to him. He sensed that while outwardly his companion was very strong, emotionally and mentally he struggled. Minato had seen him wake from many nightmares only to vomit several times before making his way up here.

Kowaku suddenly stirred beside Minato, a frustrated and perplexed look on his face. With an odd sort of mechanical motion, the silver haired Jonin rose to his feet and walked towards the very edge of the cliff, and a feeling of disturbance filled the blond. He wasn't going to hurt himself, was he? No, Minato was just reading too far into things.

He watched as Kowaku tracked something moving at the bottom of the cliff with his head, before taking a slight bit more of a step forward, directly over the edge. Kowaku seemed to stare unseeingly at the ground below him, his shoulders heaving, his breathing rushed. He looked terrified, lost, and alone. And he then leaned even further. . .

"No!" Minato cried throwing himself forward and wrapping his arms firmly around the Jonin's midsection.

"You are not allowed to throw yourself off, do you hear me? You may not know it, but I'm right here," Minato pressed himself to Kowaku's back, willing him to feel his presence.

Panic and desperation permeated Minato's thoughts. Kowaku had grown to be important to the blond, one of the few he allowed into his heart. Just the thought of him hurting himself, or worse… No. He wouldn't allow it.

"Come on, Kowaku," Minato whispered. "I'm right here." As he drew the man to his chest, the world clicked for a second. Minato could see everything around him with crystal clarity, feel Kowaku's warmth, and most importantly, hear. He could hear Kowaku's breathing.

A moment passed, and then another, before Minato heard the voice of the man he had been dreaming about for so long, for the first time. It was barely a breath of air, almost so faint he couldn't make it out. Almost. Time seemed to freeze for a precious second, before one word, and only one word was said aloud.

"Minato . . ."

And with that, Minato was violently wrenched out of his dream by an explosive chakra signature ripping his soul back to his body.