The worst part was getting used to the blood and the screams, and the limbs. The smells. The rats. The fleas. Everything. It drove you mad at some point. That is what happens in the army. It is fated.

Shikamaru lit a cigarette. He puffed out his makeshift clouds. Out here, in the dirt tunnels, you couldn't see the sky for smoke. Only the rain clouds could be seen on a peaceful day.

Coughing. Kiba had woken up.

"Damn it, Shikamaru! Would you get rid of those fucking cancer sticks already, I can't fucking breathe over here."

Shikamaru casually flicked ash in Kiba's direction, before throwing his cigarette over the top of his trench.

He lay back down on the hard mattress, which itched and was lumpy, but better than being on duty at this time of morning. He attempted sleep. Rolled on to one side. Then the other. This war. God, it had gone on for a while. Too long in fact. How many years now? Five? Six? He had joined up two years ago. His family were, after all, the major planners for attacks, for strategies, theories. But you got tired of it. Got fed up of feeling like a hamster in a wheel; chase each wrung of possibility, and you still get nowhere.

A thump. Chouji was back. The Akimichi was his best friend here. The only guy who he could tell how he was feeling, why he was feeling that, and he knew he wouldn't be judged. Or couldn't. He wasn't sure which one it was.

"Chouji. Long time no see."

Shikamaru sat up.

Chouji grinned, though his grin seemed strained. Shikamaru's onyx eyes shifted to his friend's leg. It was heavily bandaged and a faint scent of lavender oil reached Shikamaru's nose. Ino.

"Ino fixed you up."

Chouji nodded, though he seemed to do so as though it required a great amount of effort.

"Get some sleep, Shikamaru, you're on duty tomorrow. You know that right?"

"Sure I do." Shikamaru said nothing more. To probe Chouji as to what it was that had happened would be too much for him right now. You needed peace here. Because there was no way in hell you were going to get any outside.

Bangs and shouts, shrill whistles going through the air, twisted bits of metal kept flying through the air, clouds of smoke, coughs, whinnies of injured or dying horses, run. Keep fucking running. Don't you fucking dare turn back. You'll want to help others, you'll get caught, tortured, killed. Fucking look forward.

Shikamaru held each sword hit his thigh heavily, leaving bruises.

Look forward.

Shikamaru tripped. He cursed. He looked over his shoulder to see what he had tripped over. He froze.

A man, not much older than he was lay there. His hair was a pool of dark ink.

In that moment where you fall in love, it is a bit like in that moment where you fall off a bike for the first time; you know there is no way in hell you can stop yourself from getting hurt.

That is what Shikamaru's logical mind was telling him in that moment. The other part was too busy staring at the boy. His skin was blackened with soot, but if one were to wash it, it would be pale. His lashes were long. His body, a book, half unread. A mystery. And then he opened his eyes. Silvery blue eyes. Clouds. Shikamaru felt drawn towards the youth, wanted to cradle him, to heal him.

He coughed. Blood trickled through his lips. Cherry juice from childhood. That was what Shikamaru was reminded of.

"K-kill me then."

The man said it quietly, but his words were like boulders cracking the earth between them.

Shikamaru crawled towards the man on his stomach, so as not to get killed. Sneak by unnoticed. He made his way over bodies and twisted metal, scratching himself accidentally now and then.

The man's eyes closed. Waited for the blow that did not – would not come.

Shikamaru reached the man, wiped the blood away from his lips.

"What's your name?"

The youth looked surprised.

"G-go to h-hell." The words caught in the man's throat, before another cough wracked his frame.

Shikamaru knew. He couldn't leave this man to die. Quickly he acted, his brain not really doing much to stop his fevered mind from making this mistake. This error that could cost him his life, and the life of others around him. Shikamaru grabbed the upper half of the uniform of one of the corpses from his army. He avoided looking at the face. He ripped the top half of the boys uniform over his head, leaving only the dirty, blood stained shirt on underneath.

The man struggled, attempted to get away, to stop this humiliation.

"Fuck, stop it!"

Shikamaru ignored the man.

He hauled the body of the youth over his shoulder and ran. He didn't know what he had just done. His mind was in shock, was too fast for thought, was fevered and was only concentrating on the warm feeling spreading through his rib cage.

Even though the screams, bangs, hisses, and the smoke did not evaporate around him, Shikamaru did not notice, he was too busy breathing glitter and helium.

He was however brought back to reality when a kick was sent to his stomach from his prisoner. He cursed.

A thump. The struggles stopped, the man was unconscious.

"Shikamaru Nara!" A smack was delivered to his head. Shikamaru's knees buckled.

"Ino… Charming as ever."

"You promised me you'd visit, so I could keep a regular check up on you, you lied to me! Just so I wouldn't find out about your unhealthy, disgusting habit. You know what I'm talking about Shikamaru… Smoking…" She said it as though the word itself were infected and diseased.

"No, it's not that, though now I think about it Kiba promised me he wouldn't tell you…"

Ino flushed.

"Well… I asked him to keep an eye out for you, and I was right to do so wasn't I? I knew this would happen, you get bored, you keep yourself entertained through ways damaging to your health and-" at this point, Ino broke off.

She blinked curious azure eyes. Then she pointed.

"What's that?"

Shikamaru grinned. Typical.

"This, is one of us who I found on the battle field. He's pretty light and a bit smaller than me, so I was able to carry him." The lie came easily.

Ino's eyes softened.

"He got pretty lucky then, didn't he?"

Shikamaru detected the softer tone to her voice.

"Yeah. He sure did."

"Wanna put him here?" Ino's usual voice slipped back in to place easily, and she pointed to a clean sterile hospital bed, crisp white sheets, looking welcoming compared to what you usually got.

Shikamaru nodded.

He heaved the youth over his shoulder and laid him tenderly down on to the bed, the man's hair fanning out on to the sheets as he did so.

A glint of silver at his neck. Shikamaru eyed it. A small pendant. Bird in cage.

It reminded Shikamaru of something, a poem, a phrase, a nursery rhyme. A childhood.

Ino bent over the youth, her hair falling over her shoulder, a honey coloured fountain. She carefully examined the boy's chest.

"Does he have a name, Shikamaru?"

"No." he answered truthfully.

"The kid was in no state to say much." Another lie. Balanced out the previous truth.

"He has ripped the back of his throat I believe, which may account for the blood around his mouth, and I believe in his chest area there is some sort of internal bruising, probably what kept him lying flat on his back, a broken rib on his left side, but apart from that no harm done, he was actually lucky."

Ino cast him an anxious glance.

"Can I just check you up too, just quickly Shikamaru.", she added as he rolled his eyes, "just to check you're doing alright, and that everything's ticking."

Shikamaru sighed, but nodded dejectedly. He slouched over to the check up table, and sat.

Ino listened to his heart beat, measured his pulse, took his temperature, listened to his lungs, and finally took a blood sample.

As Ino busily filled the ruby liquid in to flasks to be sent to the lab, Shikamaru asked, "Ino, do you think I could maybe visit the kid?" He jerked his head in the direction of the sleeping boy, who was, by now, hooked up to an IV which fed a solution of water, sugar and salt through his blood stream (to wash out any chemicals that may be in there).

Ino paused looking at Shikamaru suspiciously.

"Yes… I suppose so… Why?"

"He looks lonely." The words spilled from his mouth before Shikamaru could stop them.

And unwanted silence spread before them. Ino tilted her head to one side, her hair falling over he shoulder.

"Look who's being a romantic." She giggled, much to Shikamaru's annoyance.

"Speaking of romance, how is it going with Chouji?"

Ino's giggle stopped, as though switched off by an invisible button.

"Wh- Chouji? Ha!" She laughed, a shrill false laugh, full of strain.

"Where on earth did you get that idea from? Or do you fantasize about pairs who might work, you pervert."

Shikamaru's smirk widened.

"I smelled your perfume all over the guy. Don't even bother lying to me."

Ino's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Fine, you got me. But don't tell anyone Shikamaru! You know how it is! That kind of thing is strictly forbidden between patient and doctor. Don't you dare tell anyone!"

"Calm down, I won't." Shikamaru could feel a headache coming on. He rubbed his head viciously, wishing he could be back home in bed, and wishing very hard that he could just go to sleep for the next five weeks.

"Look, Ino, I gotta go, I got paper work. But I'll come around tomorrow and visit the kid."

"Yeah…" Ino waited until Shikamaru had gone, before her mask slipped. Her mouth turned downwards, her eyes shifted lower, and her stance changed. She crossed her arms. Sunk into herself.

The war doesn't just affect the soldiers. It affects the healers. The doctors, the nurses. The ones who wait for their favorite patient to come back, to visit. The ones who know what their favorite flowers are, what sort of books they're in to, how many siblings they have, if they have a dog, a cat. The ones who are always waiting. Waiting for someone to come back. Waiting to learn whether they have died.

Neji's head was swimming. Fuck. The word flitted across his mind.

'Where the hell am I?' A rhythmic beep. Hospital. He tried to sit up. Black holes which gaped wider and wider swum across his hazy line of vision.

A soldier. Long hair, pony tail. Saved him. But…

'No… No. Shit. His uncle would kill him, if there was any way of him finding out, which incidentally there wasn't.'

"Woah, woah, take it easy!" Green eyes came obtrusively nearer. A vision of pink. Neji blinked, tried to rub his eyes, but found his right arm was held back by a chord. An IV. He stopped tugging.

"Neh, INO!"

His head throbbed harder.

"What?"

"Your patient has woken up! After two days! I thought he was a goner in your hands."

"What did you say Bill-Board-Brow?"

The bickering continued much in the same way. Neji groaned. Here he was saved by the enemy, treated in their hospital. Something was very, very wrong.

A blonde girl strode towards his bed.

"Thank god you've woken up, Shikamaru was doing his nut, I don't suppose you remember anything though, but you could at least tell me your name, couldn't you?"

Neji's heart began to race.

"Murosaki. Murosaki Neji."

He had been taught to lie. Secrets and lies. That was how he had grown up, and Neji, he was a natural.

A scribble.

"Do you think you could stand up, I need to measure and weigh you."

Neji stood on shaking legs, the IV was unplugged, the cabled wound around the pole like ivy, and was wheeled with him.

Height: 1,72 cm

Weight: 54 kg

Age: 17

The three major facts required in the army, at least for a doctor. Name didn't matter so much.

Neji was led back to his sick bed.

He rolled on his side. Faced the window, where chinks of afternoon sunlight slid through the blinds. Birds flitted across the skyline. The world outside his window seemed uncomplicated, free. He needed a holiday.

Neji's eyes slid shut. The sunlight caressed his face, painting his outline.

Shikamaru gazed down at the sleeping man, who in the daylight, away from the killing looked serene. In the world of clouds and dreams, you didn't take your everyday baggage with you. That was a general rule. But this was a hard time for dreamers. That's why Shikamaru has his cigarettes.

AN: Right…. Soooo, a few people have been asking me where I am. I am just going to say I am absent for lengthy periods of time Which sucks, incidentally. But aww, the reviews make my day n_n Ahem anyway. Criticism? (of the constructive nature) Oh, hot water bottle? My toes are cold