Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Duh.

Spoilers.

Pills, Wings, and Ink
By: TF

(one shot)

All it took was one little pill. One little red pill to scare Shikamaru absolutely shitless. Such a tiny thing when compared to the world and the weapons and the people, but it was his biggest fear in life, the one thing he feared above all others.

When he was younger he had tried to take it, tried to hide it away, only to be caught in a situation that his superior mind couldn't get him out of. He'd been chastised and forced to return the small red pill, but he'd always remember the look on his friend's face when he'd told him in private what he had tried to do. Chouji needed saving, dammit, and if no one else would do it then he would. He would take that pill and run away and keep his friend safe from its pepper.

But he hadn't been able to save Chouji from needing to use it, hadn't been able to keep the glittering, ethereal wings from unfurling from the other's back. He'd been to late to stop him from swallowing, from slimming down and looking as down right fragile as real butterflies, so different than he normally looked.

And he'd nearly fainted at the sight of those wings, wings bigger than the blonde supporting them, slumped over against the nearest tree as his eyelids fluttered over foggy cerulean eyes. His heart had literally stopped at the sight of his friend and the chakra leaking away in such a display of beauty, even as the girl beside him made some comment that he couldn't hear. No, his fearful eyes were focused on the results of what happened from one little red pill.

Minutes and hours and days passed by, but he didn't notice. Didn't notice as the others all came back alive, but without the target. Didn't notice that the Sand Trio were still in the village, that Naruto looked little better than death warmed over, and that Ino had suspiciously become his shadow when she'd found Temari hovering in that obnoxious way of hers. All he wanted to do was see Chouji, because he couldn't really believe that his formerly large friend was going to live, even if the new Hokage said that he was.

So he'd crept into the other's hospital room one night, and in the wash of moonlight could see the inky snakes winding their way across the other's body, splashes of symbols and characters apparent from where he was hidden in the deep shadows by the door. He didn't dare venture further, he was almost too scared, but the rise and fall of the other's chest reassured him, even if the lack of muscle tone didn't.

He had planned on quitting this job. It wasn't worth it if your friends died around you, or because skeletons who could eat and eat and barely gain back any of their former frame, but one memory of the fear and the vow to never feel that fear again stopped him. It wasn't that girl's accusations and insults, it was his personal promise to never, ever let down someone who shouldn't ever have to use their last resort. It was because he wanted to make sure his friend never needed a chance to see that little red pill ever again, let alone swallow it.

He feared that stupid little pill of destruction, but he was smarter, and better, and he was never going to let anyone around him die because he couldn't be there to save them, even if it meant giving up cloud watching. He would be there, even though it was impossible.

FIN