WARNINGS: blood, death, intestines, gore, violence, death, war, the usual set. Also, het, but nothing explicit. And OCs. Sorry. Read anyway?
EDIT: (061406) Now with less typos and proper italics! Yey! headdesk
Half a lifetime ago and more, Shikamaru had known exactly what he wanted out of life. A mid-level job with a decent salary, a wife who was neither pretty nor ugly, and two children, a boy and a girl.
Now he's turning thirty, and he has all that.
He's a chuunin, still—it's a decent rank and doesn't require him to exert himself overly to accomplish his missions—and he runs the required patrols and jobs with little enthusiasm, but a great deal of competence.
His children (Shikako, almost ten, and Shoichi, turning eight soon) will both be ninjas. Shikako is close to graduating the Academy, Shoichi right behind her. His wife, Chisato, is not a ninja.
He's turning thirty, and the world around him is going to hell in a handbasket. Assassinations within Konoha's very walls have become an almost everyday disaster. The Sixth is forced to keep a heavy ANBU guard about him at all times as he tries desperately to slow Konoha's rapid spiral into oblivion.
Shikamaru is not a target. Why would he be? He's just a no-name chuunin with a steady, unremarkable record of B- and C-rank missions. Completely unexceptional.
But he knows, kneeling over Ino's cooling corpse in the aftermath of the first breach of Konoha's walls en masse, he knows, that in a twisted way, this is all his fault.
He's never stepped up and taken responsibility. Never forced himself to his limits and beyond. Not since his first chuunin-rank mission. He's held back, followed orders, missed countless opportunities to influence the outcome, one way or another.
It's like his father predicted. He'd refused to lead again, so someone else, less capable than himself, had led his friends into battle. And gotten them killed, in droves.
Shikamaru has everything he ever wanted for himself. And he hates himself for it.
Shikako makes genin that next week.
Shikamaru realizes that genin-teams and their chuunin-senseis (not enough jounin to go around, not anymore) are being added to the patrol rosters.
The Sixth drops by for supper that night.
Shikamaru isn't particularly surprised, and reminds Chisato to make ramen. Shikako (brand shiny-new hitai-ate around her forehead, god, was he ever that young) is practically bouncing in her seat. Shoichi watches the Sixth with wide eyes, almost forgetting to eat in the novelty of his father talking to the Hokage like an old friend.
The news that the Sixth had dinner with Nara Shikamaru's household will be all over Konoha before sundown tomorrow.
Shikamaru folds his arms and keeps his face blank as Naruto begins his spiel. In a detached sort of way, he notes Naruto's usual charisma, edged with uncharacteristic desperation. His chakra roiling with agitation, his control on the Kyuubi iron-tight.
It's a foregone conclusion, almost. There aren't a lot of people out there who can say no to Uzumaki Naruto's face, and Shikamaru knows he's not one of them.
Naruto pats Shikako's head absently as she asks if he'd care for dessert, keeping his eyes on Shikamaru.
Shikamaru sighs.
"Where do you need me?" he asks, resigned.
There's a bit of a stir when the Sixth puts a chuunin in charge of the entire northern defense, but one good thing about being in the middle of losing a war is that it erodes rankings like very little else.
He digs up his mission uniform (the usual turtleneck, trousers and flak vest, with the addition of a layer of light, flexible armor) and restocks his kunai holster and scroll-pack, careful to include a good stash of flashbangs and exploding tags.
He kisses Shikako on the forehead awkwardly and asks her to look after her mother and brother. Shikako already knows the kagemane and the kagekubi shibari. She'll make a good ninja--better than he is, he thinks.
He shakes Shoichi's hand solemnly, kisses Chisato on the cheek. Smiles and offers a small wave as he walks away from his family. Funny, how things work out.
He joins a small group of reinforcements and transfers at the village gates for the trek north, to the borders of Rain and Sound. They're mostly either grass-green chuunin, so new they haven't got the shiny worn off yet, or battle-weary veterans, fresh from the hospital.
The northern front is a mess. When he arrives, Kiba (the highest-ranking survivor, which says rather a lot about what a mess it is) spits at his feet.
"Finally decided to get your hands dirty, huh?" he says bitterly.
Shikamaru doesn't reply. Shino and Kurenai-san are both dead, so Kiba's rancor is not, perhaps, unmerited.
He straightens out the unholy mess that is their northern defensive in record time (a week) and starts pushing back. He manages to catch Sound by surprise—they obviously hadn't been expecting Naruto to pull a unifying leader out of thin air like that. But it's still very tough going with the limited resources at his disposal.
In his reports Leaf-ward, Shikamaru demands support from the Sand (supposedly still their ally).
Of course, Temari's sense of timing is still impeccable, and with the help of a dozen assorted Sand-shinobi, Shikamaru manages to rout the Sound a second time, stretching his control almost a mile closer to where the old border had been.
Temari hasn't changed much from how he remembers her.
"How're the wife and kids?" she asks, lounging negligently in his camp-chair, sandals up on the map table.
"Fine," he replies, though he hasn't had a message from them since he arrived. Deftly, he rescues the more important maps from her careless feet.
"You ever wonder what would have happened if we'd gotten married?" she asks, trimming her nails with a kunai.
He snorts. "It would have been an unmitigated disaster. What do you think about an additional offensive tomorrow evening?"
"An ambush?" She leans forward to eye the map he's holding, squinting at the smeared marks. "Huh. You're thinking that gorge over there, aren't you?" she asks.
"Should be easy enough to whip up a gale-force wind, with the walls there to keep it confined."
She nods, grudgingly. "It's got potential," she admits. "I'll talk to my folk, see what they think of it."
"Fair enough."
Shikamaru's third assault goes off flawlessly. The ragged forces of the Leaf surprise the Sound shinobi, catching them completely off-guard and driving them easily into the chakra-laden wind of a dozen or so fan-wielding ninjas.
By his estimate, the Sound will start to wise up, right around now. He has maybe one more offensive to launch before they start to learn his patterns and he has to come up with a new angle.
So he decides to take full advantage of his one hit, sending out scouts to locate the main Sound camp. Then, himself and a hand-picked team of trap-makers descend on the camp, late at night, slitting throats, ruining supplies, trapping the perimeter and the main tents, slipping away before the Sound registers what's happened.
It's a very successful raid, and he manages to push their weakened forces back once more.
He relays all his plans, all his ideas and thoughts and possible attack patterns to Temari and Kiba. Thirty is getting old, for a ninja, and Shikamaru's all too conscious of his own mortality. He doesn't want the entire north front to collapse when he gets hit by a stray arrow or something.
Kiba is his reluctant apprentice—his and Temari's abilities mesh reasonably well. Kiba has the charisma and the alpha-instincts, Temari has the strategic mind. Shikamaru works to foster this awkward alliance, for when he dies.
He's pretty sure Temari's caught on—sometimes he catches her eyeing him, a wry twist to her lips. Kiba likely won't get it until he finds himself (nominally, at least) back in charge.
Shikamaru's made the arrangements—orders and battle plans and his predictions for future attacks, all in a sealed box that Kiba is supposed to open when he dies.
There's a note for the kids in there as well. Shikamaru knows they'll be safe, no matter what. Naruto promised, and if there's one thing you can say about Uzumaki Naruto, it's that he keeps his word.
He comes close to dying, their fourth battle. He sets himself up as the diversion, confident that the kagenui is enough to buy him time for his people to surround his attackers.
It goes well enough, and then he takes a kunai in the neck and a faceful of Uchiha Sasuke.
Which was more than a little unexpected.
"You're the new General?" Sasuke sneers as Shikamaru chokes on blood, falling to his knees, trying desperately to stem the flood of red.
The last thing he sees is Akamaru, vaulting over him in a furry blur to fasten long teeth in Sasuke's own throat.
He wakes up two days later, wondering if all his work's been undone while he recuperated. But Kiba reports an additional victory, and the possible death of the Sound's third-greatest asset, Yakushi Kabuto.
A bit miffed at that for reasons he doesn't care to examine too closely, Shikamaru admonishes him not to believe that until they find the body. And run a full autopsy. It's Kabuto, after all.
Kiba grumbles something about not being an idiot.
"No," Shikamaru says grudgingly. "You're not."
The astonished look on Kiba's face makes him snicker, then hiss in pain as his neck throbs. Damned inconvenient place to get stabbed.
He gets a letter from Shikako a few days later, weeks after she'd sent it. It arrives along with his latest orders and a batch of reinforcements, and he couldn't have said which made him happier.
Shikako tells him about her first patrol (and her first kill, and Shikamaru thinks he was three years older when he'd killed for the first time). She tells him that Shoichi is doing well at the Academy, that Konohamaru-sensei gave him full marks on his last ninjutsu test. She tells him that they all miss him and hope he comes home soon.
Fat chance of that, Shikamaru thinks with a bitter chuckle. He's already screwed things up horribly, simply by not doing anything, and he's not sure he can make things right, short of sacrificing himself.
He rereads the letter twice over, then folds it carefully up and tucks it securely away in his vest.
"Do you love her?" Temari asks, behind him.
He turns. "My daughter? Of course."
She shakes her head, smiling crookedly. "Your wife, what's her name."
Temari knows perfectly well what his wife's name is. Shikamaru shrugs. "We get along well enough," he says. "She's not too noisy and she's done a good job raising Shikako and Shoichi."
"But you don't love her."
It's not something Shikamaru's every really thought about before. He's seen love rip people apart and put them back together. He's seen it make people weak, or strong. He knows Asuma-sensei loved Yuuhi Kurenai. They died together. He knows Naruto still loves Sasuke, although he doesn't know why, or even if it's a 'why' question.
He's comfortable with Chisato. If anything, they're friends. They don't pretend to understand each other, but there's a certain level of affection there.
But he doesn't love her, no.
He waves a hand dismissively, yanking his mind back on track to plan the next attack.
"Why didn't you marry a ninja, Shikamaru?" Temari prods.
He shakes his head, irritated. "We don't have time for this," he informs her. "Come on, we've still got to plan out our next encounter with the enemy."
Four days later, they're both dying, bleeding their respective lives out onto the battle-torn forest floor. Kabuto lies dead (truly dead, this time. Shikamaru made sure) a few meters away. Temari clutches her fan like a small child with a comfort blanket. Shikamaru concentrates on keeping his guts from spilling out onto the ground and thinks it's a pity that he's getting blood all over Shikako's letter.
"Why didn't you marry me?" Temari asks, tooclose.
He doesn't answer, raising his eyes to the clouds floating serenely by above them. It's a nice day.
Temari chokes on a laugh. "We're dying and you still don't have the balls to tell me?" she demands.
With a sigh, he drops his eyes to meet her sadfurious gaze. There are tears in her dark eyes, and that shakes him to his core.
"Shinobi," he starts, then has to stop, cough up a lungful of blood. "There's only one way love between ninjas ends," he says.
She stares at him, disbelieving. "That's it?" she asks. "You were afraid of dying?"
He makes a vague shutting-up motion with his free hand, spattering red droplets across Temari's shirt. The world is starting to fade in and out and he knows neither of them have much more time. "I tell Chisato to run, hide, survive, I know she'll listen," he says. "I know she'll put the kids as first priority—over me, over winning, over herself. I know she won't get herself killed over some idiotic contract or—or me."
Temari takes that in, silent for a moment, then she moves closer, dragging her broken body next to his. "Idiot," she murmurs. "This is what you were afraid of? Dying together? It's happening anyway."
It seems like a great effort, but he drapes an arm around her neck, pulls her head to rest on his shoulder. He pretends not to notice the hot tears seeping into his collar.
"It's happening anyway," she says again, whispering against his collarbone.
"I know," he says, eyes going back to the clouds, feeling the slow lethargy of severe bloodloss overtaking him at a frightening rate.
"You're an idiot," Temari mumbles.
"Never claimed to be a genius," he replies drowsily, and lets the shadows take him for the last time.
Endnotes: Err...yeah. This one kinda wrote itself. For a while there, I was actually contemplating Kiba/Temari. Or Temari/Kiba. They're both alpha bitches. But it didn't work out, needless to say. Ah well. Apologies for the OCs again, hope they weren't irritating or anything.
EDIT: (061406) FF DOT NET EATS BABIES! And my formatting. But the typos were all my own damn fault. That's what you get for uploading ten seconds after typing the thing up. Gah. Hope that's better.