Disclaimerrrrrrrrr: Listen up closely, cuz I'm not repeating this. I. Do NOT. Own Naruto. End of story. Comprende?
Prologue: Eyes
It was happening again, and this time, there was no Naruto to wake her up and comfort her.
Something though—Something had changed. This was and wasn't her usual nightmare. The eyes were still there, yes, hovering in the background like bloody globes—like foxfire—luring her to her death, but something had changed in them. Something had changed them from emotionless, distant, and distinctly masculine and had softened them, saddened them. It was as though their owner were trying to convey a message with those red, red orbs. She was still running—it seemed that wouldn't change—but instead of away from the eyes, she was running toward them. Her hands were cold, nearly numb, and her legs felt like lead, but she pushed them onward, feeling desperation for the first time and wondering why that was. She wasn't stumbling, that would come later, but she felt that if she stopped—that if she didn't reach the person who owned those eyes—then something terrible would happen, and there would be nothing she could do about it.
Something was not right.
What? She tried to ask. What is going on? But no sound would come out. Her mouth only gaped—open and closed—like a fish's when it was gasping, dying, on land, lured by bait it could not resist.
She knew it was a dream—knew that she should be the one in control and not the helpless victim—but it was out of her hands. She could only watch in horror as one of her leaden legs caught on an upraised tree root and she fell…
Fell…
Fell…
The ground rushed up to meet her, to embrace her body, and the world turned black.
She woke—how strange, to wake in a dream—and found herself strapped to a metal examination table. It was cold, cold, cold; she could feel it through her weatherproof garments, creeping in through her skin to settle in her bones. She wanted to scream for help; to cry in anger and frustration; to wake up, because this dream was becoming too, too, too real. She wriggled, wanting to escape because she knew in her heart that if she stayed she would surely die, but the leather straps were unyielding, merciless.
Why? Why is this happening?
A shadow moved in the blackness surrounding her table—her prison—and Sasuke appeared, looking as emotionless as he had a month ago. A month ago when she and he had met and fought, and the nightmares had begun—most of them the same, all of them involving her death.
Naruto. Naruto blamed himself. It didn't matter that she should have told him she was going to town. It didn't matter that it had been her fault—her fault for trying to corner Sasuke alone and ending up cornered herself. Naruto was Naruto and he would blame himself always for failing that first time.
"Hello, Sakura."
It was his voice, the one she had longed to hear for so many years—but something was wrong.... Something was different.
Nothing in the dream was as it should be.
"Who are you?" she asked, and her green eyes widened in shock as she realized she was finally allowed to speak.
"Who?" the not-Sasuke asked, looking amused. "Who indeed." His form shimmered—melted—was replaced by someone whose face had haunted her dreams far more than his fair share of times.
Someone whose smile meant the world must be ending because no Uchiha would ever, ever smile like that—that sad, lonely smile that made her want to cry.
Uchiha Itachi.
"I'm sorry, Sakura." he whispered, his lips ghosting across her cheek before he turned to smoke and disappeared, leaving her to ponder just what he had meant.
There was a sudden prick in her arm, then the feeling of something thin piercing her skin until finally, finally, it reached a vein.
Her heart, which had begun thumping very quickly at the sight of the elder Uchiha brother, began to slow, much to her alarm.
Lubdub. Lubdub.
She was feeling lightheaded suddenly.
Lub...dub. Lub... dub.
Her eyelids were getting heavier.
Lub...
Dub...
Lub...
...Dub...
...
...
She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. It was just too much effort, and she was suddenly feeling very peaceful...
I forgive you...
Sakura woke, eyes wide and unfocused, pale skin covered with a glistening sheen of cold sweat. She was trembling, her head felt woozy.
She settled her head over her chest, just where her heart would be, and was comforted by its rhythmic beating. It was not the first time she had had to reassure herself this way, and she knew it wouldn't be the last time.
"Kiba..." she whispered, placing the crook of her elbow over her eyes so that she didn't have to look at her ceiling; she'd painted it sky blue in a fit of insanity (as her friends referred to it) after being trapped inside by rain for two weeks. Kiba, rowdy, slightly annoying Kiba, had been the only one who hadn't laughed, because he had understood perfectly.
I'm sorry.
"I'm sorry, Sakura."
Sakura gasped, sat up, sent her blankets and pillows flying. She fumbled with her couch cushions, feeling for the kunai knife she kept under one of them. It sliced her thumb open when her grasping hand finally found it under the middle cushion, but she ignored the stinging pain to grab the handle and scan her living room warily.
Nothing. She'd been imagining things.
Why, though, had Itachi said that?
Even more troubling: why she had forgiven him.
She lay back, body still tense, healed the cut on her thumb, and decided to leave the analytical shit to Shikamaru.
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A/N: liked this slightly changed up version better. R&R please!