I wrote this awhile ago, and it is currently chapter 7 in A Lover's Spat; however, I am really proud of this one and decided that it is enough to stand on its own.

WARNING:

The story contains some mature, and slightly disturbing, themes including references to RAPE and ABUSE.

She had gone missing three weeks previous. The hounds could not find her or the Hokage's most lethal hunters. They had been devastated. And so he was sent.

"The mission can not be failed."

"What do I get out of it?"

They had promised him redemption; he knew better, but the freedom to walk around without everyone knowing when he decided to piss had its appeal. He motioned for another drink, glad that the establishment didn't water down their sake.

It had taken him a week to track them down, more than he liked since each moment wasted was one in which she might have been killed, and he could not fail this mission.

It was humiliating to know people watched him fuck. And that was something he liked to do. It was the only thing that made him feel good anymore. To be in complete control and hit that high. It felt good to be accepted by someone more than the Dobe, even if it was just physically. He downed the dirty shot in one gulp, reveling in its burn.

It felt good that at least superficial women wanting a thrill with the bad boy weren't spitting at him as he walked, or condemning him with their looks, or avoiding him like she did, but he didn't really care about that. He had stopped caring about her around the time his psyche was shredded to pieces three years ago, and it seemed the same could be said for her about him.

He raised his empty glass to the bartender, indicating he wanted another, before casually setting the glass down, waiting for his turn in the overcrowded bar. A female with too much makeup made her presence known with a slender hand on his shoulder. He smirked back at her, his reason for sitting at the bar accomplished.

Two years ago he would have been repulsed by the girl in his lap, throwing herself over him as they drank and drank, but that was when he was still a kid, crazy with hate and thirsty for revenge. Now he was just a man who wanted solace, and this was currently the closest thing. As the whore pressed her chest against him on their way up the stairs, he ironically noted that he had turned into his old mentor.

"Even if you are successful in your revenge, all you'll be left with is emptiness…"

More than a few times he had nodded a head to the man as he exited the red-light district with a woman, or with rolls reversed, and as he stuck his tongue down the whore's throat, his conscience reminded him that he was no closer to contentment than when he was twelve, just as she had predicted.

"It won't bring anyone happiness, not even you …nor me."

A sharp blow to the back of her head rendered her unconscious as soon as the door was locked. He let her drop to the floor, not having the time to place her on the stained mattress, before moving quickly over to the window and slipping out.

His breath came out in visible puffs as he focused on scaling across the wall to the fifth window with as little chakra as possible. He could still feel her chakra signature; it moved sluggishly, indicating that she was drugged or near death. For his sake, he hoped it was the former or not only would he be forever restricted to the leaf's walls, but he would also have to haul a dead body five days southwest.

Reaching his destination, he carefully peered into the grimy window. There was one man in the room, and through the dust and dirt, he could faintly make out her characteristic mop of hair on the bed. It was all he needed. He pulled his head back from the sill, retrieving a single senbon as he mentally calculated the man's movements. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four.

He infused chakra into his forearm and threw the projectile as hard as he could. It cut clean through the glass without cracking it, and found its mark in the man's jugular. He lifted the window open as his target fell to the ground. Stealthily, he slid into the stuffy room, moving to the fallen man and slitting his throat as a precautionary measure. It was only then that he turned towards his objective, and was immediately frozen in place.

The first impression was gruesome, the minute details, once taken in, were worse.

She was passed out on the bed, her matted, lackluster hair obscuring her face mostly from view. He took note of how her cuffed wrists were cut open and raw from where the metal had repeatedly rubbed against her skin, forming craters in her wrist that would no doubt scar. Dried blood from the opened wounds flowed down her gaunt arm, past her elbows at points, and over multiple bruises. His eyes blankly took in the hand prints around her neck, and the bruises and cuts on her breasts and stomach. He meant to take a step forward in order to cover her, to retain her innocence and modesty from at least him, but succeeded in only a slight shuffle as his eyes finally settled on her lower body.

She was covered in just a skirt; he recognized it passed the rips and stains as the one she wore on ninja duties. From beneath it, dried blood and other bodily fluids coated her thighs among a plethora of more bruises and cuts. It was then his fists tightened into shaking balls at his side. It was then he recognized the stench of the air as that of piss and blood and the one he was most familiar with, sex. It was then that the most desperate ache to protect her, the one he had not felt since walking out of the village gates on a night long ago, was renewed with a blazing force.

Amid his rage and the overwhelming urge to burn the fucking place to the ground, he was supremely surprised by his reaction. He turned his head from the sight, his gaze coincidentally resting on the dead man, and his dark eyes narrowed. For a moment he envisioned killing him again, slowly, but in an instant the urge was gone, and he focused on the task at hand. He was wasting precious seconds standing there.

In a swift movement, he removed his cloak and moved it over her. When the heavy material touched her skin, she began to stir; he could practically feel her panic as she quickly awoke, and for another moment he irrationally paused to watch her blood-shot eyes, decorated with blues and yellows, flutter open and focus on him. She whimpered lowly as the cuffs on her hands shifted against the broken skin, and her eyes turned glossy once more as his eyes roved over the half-healed slashes on her face.

The place should definitely be burned, he thought, and every man within it should have their fucking balls-

Her split lips opened.

"Is it really you this time?"

His throat burned as he croaked a reply, "Yeah." Somehow, she managed a small, broken smile before she slipped out of consciousness once again. He wasted no time in picking the locks of the cuffs and scooping her up in a quick and harsh motion. In less than three seconds he had flashed out of the window and down the winding path that led to the main road. As soon as he was able, he sprinted up a tree, his hard steps sending bark flying in his wake. From there he focused on his breathing, in and out, slowly so he could run farther without stopping, not once glancing down at the girl.

He lasted a total of six hours. Leaping off of a particularly large branch, he landed with crouched knees on the ground, the front of his body bent over his burden. He scanned his surroundings, and finally found a rotted tree twenty feet away. With a deep breath, he kicked the bark, causing it to split, and in three more kicks, fall to the snow-covered ground, effectively creating a small coven where he carefully stuffed the girl. He took a moment to frown at her limp body; she hadn't stirred since their escape.

Quickly the thought was shaken away as he turned and sprinted to the inn a half mile down the road.

"One room." Quietly, as was his nature, he presented the cash to the receptionist. Unfortunately it was a pubescent girl, and, as was her nature, she questioned him.

"All alone then?" His dark eyes held no emotion as he just quietly stared back at her. Her cheeks warmed, whether taking the silence as a no, or a none of your business. Either way, she handed the key over without another word.

He made his way to the room, 307, how ironic, almost casually. The door swung open easily, the establishment being of a finer quality than the one a few hours before. He threw his pack onto a chair by the door, swiping up the "Please, Do not Disturb" sign and hanging it on the door knob, before locking it and moving quickly to the window.

His stomach naturally twisted as he dropped the three levels to the snow-covered ground. He paused a moment, his fingertips wetting on the snow as he strained his senses to see if he had been noticed. There was no indication, and in the next moment he was off, back to retrieve his hidden objective.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get through the window without banging her head, he did end up nicking her foot on the ledge, but he figured one little cut wasn't going to really matter at this point. With a bit more care, he deposited her on the bed before firmly shutting the window and locking it.

He turned around, and stared at her. What was he supposed to do now? Dark eyes scanned over her once more. Her matted hair still covered most of her broken face, and through his cloak, he could see she was breathing regularly, albeit a little shallow. He breathed deeply in agitation, and again he was reminded of the sickening stench that surrounded her.

Wasting no time, he moved to the adjoining bathroom, forcefully flicking on the blinding florescent lights before running the water for a shower. He flipped his shirt over his head, throwing it randomly to the side as he walked back into the main room. Approaching the side of the bed, he paused for a few seconds, scanning over the unconscious woman before taking a fortifying breath through his nose. He reached forward and removed the cloak, careful to keep his eyes from wandering, as he removed her skirt, and picked her up, carrying her to the bathroom. Kicking the door closed behind him, he stood in the steam for a few minutes, holding her close to warm her body, before stepping into the shower.

He firmly held her against him with his left arm as he gently rubbed away the grim on her face and in her hair. Between the dried blood and bruises he could still see her beauty peaking through, and for a fleeting moment the revelation relieved him because he knew that although she didn't paint her nails or eyes anymore, her appearance still had a significant meaning to her. Even at his regular distance of twenty yards or further he could see that.

Somehow, he was able to hold her weight as well as scrub her scalp with shampoo, twice just to make sure the smell would not linger, before he moved to her body. He breathed as he slowly ran the lathered washcloth down the length of her left arm, watching as the white suds cascaded over the pale skin, darkening to pink before falling to the tub. Up and down, he repeated the action before moving down to her hands, linking his fingers through hers in an effort to clean every part of her. Once done with her hand, he moved to her shoulder, brushing the ragged hair out of the way to reveal the skin of her back.

He paused once more as his apathetic eyes took in the blemishes. With even more care, he gently ran the cloth around the burns, careful to not break the blisters. And he went on, thoroughly washing each part of her body, not pausing or thinking anything of it as his hands grasped her breasts or bottom through the cloth, avoiding the deeper cuts or darker bruises. Finally, he had worked his way down to her lower body. He paused, his hand resting on her thigh. He knew that multiple men had touched her; it was obvious by the multiple forms of torture her body exhibited, but for him to touch her…

"Traitor"

"Ungrateful"

"Demon"

"Tainted"

He was not oblivious to the words around him, just as he was not oblivious to her beauty. More than once he had used the image of her for release, and now he was about to invade her most personal area that only,

He felt her stiffen suddenly. He straightened his slightly bent position, anticipating her awakening. Her head rolled back on his hand with a moan before her eyes partially revealed themselves between her lashes, had it not been for her wounds, the sight could have been erotic. He focused on their color, apathy characterizing his face.

"No." The croaked word confused him, but he had no time to wonder on it as she repeated the denial, more forcefully, "No, no, no, no, no!" Her thin fists came up to weakly bang against his chest, pushing him away from her as she reeled back from his supportive embrace with a scream. He dropped the washcloth as his hand came up to grab her upper arm, "No! No!" She sobbed as he tried to calm her, calling her name sternly, slightly shaking her back to sanity. At this rate, someone was going to hear her. She stiffened again, her back bowed away from him, her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream before she slowly righted herself, breathing shakily.

His muscles remained tight, ready to subdue her if she tried to escape. With a blank face he met her eyes as she stood straight, finally her bleeding lips parted to let out a sob. She seemed to collapse into herself, and he was at a loss on what to do before she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, burying her face under his chin as she cried.

His dark eyes went wide with bewilderment. He had never simply held someone when lustful actions weren't involved, but he had seen couples caress and hold one another, had witnessed little girls run into his teammates' arms after a long mission. With a sigh, he released his grip on her arms to wrap his own around her thin waist, holding her tightly as she continued to whimper.

As he watched the water fall over them, he realized this was the first time he had seen her cry in almost three years.

Fiery pain erupted in his eyes, "Fuck!" He removed his hand, to locate his target once more but, wait, it couldn't be… Futilely he wiped and wiped at his eyes, trying to regain his vision once more. Then he felt it. He clawed at her neck, a small part of him unbelieving that he allowed her to get so close, an even smaller part ignoring what she was trying to do. Almost gleefully he slowly took the kunai away from her, never looking away from her gasping form, even as she tried to slap his hand away and the tears continuously leaked down her face.

He tightened his hold on her.

She allowed him to finish washing her; he guessed she was far away from the moment by the look of her eyes as she continued to rest on him, too weak to hold herself up, and he tried to do the same even as he touched her in the most forbidden parts. He dressed her in the cleanest shirt in his pack and his last pair of boxers before changing his sopping shorts. She quietly watched him as he later wrapped the gauze around her wrists. "How did it happen?" He didn't look up from his task as he questioned her.

"A mission to the border, bring an herb to the Feudal Lord's favorite nephew to increase his wife's fertility. On the way back, a little boy was being harassed. It never occurred to me that I was the real target; the boy injected me with some substance that immediately paralyzed me."

"They were following you, to know a weakness like that." That made his decision that he would not be able to wait for her to recover, he would have to carry her for the rest of the journey. He briefly glanced up to see her watching his actions. Her bottom lip was still horribly split as she spoke.

"Perhaps." She fell back asleep as he lightly spread antibiotic over the cuts on her face, and three hours later, he was left sitting at her bedside in the chair that had accompanied the desk, his fingers laced before his face, his elbows propped on his knees, as was customary. His eyes rested on her bruised face, viewable courtesy of the moonlight, as he focused on creating a plan.

It was a three and a half day journey home, but he would have to make it closer to two now that he had pursuers, there was no "perhaps" that she was targeted, that they would drag her so far away. They must have not reached their destination because there was no way she would be drugged and beaten just for a fuck. No, they had a plan, or were working for someone with a plan, and for them to know where she was, when she was going to be there, and a weakness of hers, then there must be a rat somewhere. His eyes narrowed as he thought of when he found the fucker…

She shifted her head towards him and her eyes fluttered, sleepily taking in the light that entered through the window before shifting her eyes over to his shadow. "It's late." He took a moment to answer.

"Ah."

She made to lick her lips, but winced when her tongue ran over the wound on her bottom one. With a sigh, she quietly looked around the room before rotating her head back towards him. "You should sleep." With that she scooted away just an inch or so before wincing.

"Don't move." His command didn't stop her in the least.

"Come sleep." He sighed under his breath at her quiet voice and reached over to grab the water he had gotten for her earlier, holding her head up as he brought it to her lips. When he set the cup back down on the side table, she repeated her request. He briefly closed his eyes.

"No." She rolled over to her side, her back facing him. He thought back to the shower and envisioned the location of each bruise.

"You're not going to hurt me." He gritted his teeth at how infuriating she was being. If he didn't know any better…

"That's not the point." Slowly, she rotated to peer at him over her shoulder.

"Please." He wasn't expecting that, and with a harsh look, he moved to lie beside her. Slowly, he slid in between the sheets, pausing once, unsure how to place his hands, before finally just settling one arm lightly over the dip of her waist, the other tucked firmly under his pillow. As soon as he was settled, she rolled partially back into him, tensing when her sensitive back made contact with his chest, before relaxing with a sigh.

After a few moments, her hand came around to run down his arm and rest lightly over his own that was splayed on the white sheet.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, pleased that she now smelled of soap and vaguely of him.

"I didn't do it for you." It was true, he did it so he could fuck freely and finally, finally, exit the walls of his renewed home. For a second though, it felt like he had failed her to admit that.

When he was younger, once or twice he entertained the idea of staying with them, of fighting his rival, of quiet talks with his old mentor about this technique or that, and of returning to a home, lying his headband on the bedside as he slid in beside her, placing his hands around her swollen abdomen, or reaching around a smaller body to touch hers.

Just once or twice because he knew in his heart it would never happen.

She quietly sighed at him, "Thank you all the same."

In two minutes, she was asleep once more, and he was left staring at the wall across from them, again pondering his next course of action. First he would send a summon to alert them of their arrival, yes that would probably be best.

The next morning, he gathered her in his arms, the filled canteen cradled to her chest like a child's bottle, and exited through the window once more, this time with no injury on her part though he knocked his elbow quite hard on the way out.

He ran throughout the day, taking three soldier pills as she alternated between dozing and just resting her head on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck and occasionally her fingers as she trailed a line of sweat absentmindedly. He contributed it to the drugs still lingering in her system and tried not to dwell on the action.

Finally, he jumped heavily out of a tree, landing hard with a pant, nearly stumbling. The jar awoke her and she looked dazedly up at him, he was vaguely aware of her actions as he awaited the approach of the oncoming group.

She whispered his name in question, and he looked down at her, his lips parted as he panted, by the look in her eyes, it was obvious she was still drugged, and he momentarily wondered what exactly it was they gave her.

"Sakura!" At the shout, her lips parted in wonder and her head turned from looking up at him to stare at the group coming towards them. He knew the action must have hurt her, but she gave no outward indication of feeling pain. He felt her breath catch before she started moving, a signal for him to release her. He barely set her down before she fell forward, into the other man's embrace, both of them crying as they clutched each other. He resisted the scowl that wanted to form as he stood not two feet from the couple, he had never really believed in true public display of affections. He watched as her lithe fingers came up to caress the other man's face, as she quietly spoke his name,

"Shin."

A month later, when she knocks on his door, he is only partially surprised. He had expected this course of action perhaps two weeks after their return, but he knew she would seek him out at some point, even if it was to give him grief for seeing her naked, or demand he not reveal her drugged actions- the other day a partner licked the line of sweat on his neck and his body shivered, her name appearing behind his closed lids.

He was on his couch, quietly drinking through a bottle of sake, a congratulatory gift for his newfound freedom, when the soft knock pulled him from his thoughts and towards the door. His hair was still wet from the long shower earlier. He knew who the visitor was even before stoically opening the door, yet his first action was to raise an eyebrow, questioning why she was there. She responded with a small smile and short wave. "Can I come in?" After a moment, he stepped to the side, allowing her to enter, before soundlessly turning back to his sitting room to resume his earlier activity. He was overtly aware of every move she made, curious as to why she had sought him out.

"How did your mission go?" He responded with a grunt that she must have taken for a positive response. She nodded her head.

"That's good." Silence ensued as he refilled his cup. She was jittery and nervous; she kept moving her hands about her thighs. Finally, his patience ran thin.

"What do you want?" A soft smile was the response; he imagined she had a small secret that had to do with his blunt question, but he really didn't care.

"To say thank you." He paused in bringing the sake cup to his lips, looking straight at her as he responded.

"I didn't do it for you." She smiled again, much to his agitation.

"I know, but the other things like caring for me and," She paused, a blush forming on her cheeks. He saved her the embarrassment of articulating what they both knew she was referring to.

"You smelled like shit, and I couldn't exactly let you bleed to death, that would have defeated the whole purpose of retrieving you." He caught her outraged look as he rose and made his way towards the kitchen. She followed him soon after with angry footfalls.

"Y-you're lying. I know you; you wouldn't have done those things if you truly didn't want to." They had entered the kitchen by this time, and he paused upon her statement before slowly turning around.

"You know me?" His voice was low, dangerous. Her eyes widened momentarily before lowering in determination once more. "Tell me, how exactly do you know me when you couldn't even stand the sight of me for two fucking years!" His breathing increased with anger.

"W-w-well, I-" he dismissed her stammered reply with a noise and turned around, intent on finding another sake bottle. "Look, I'm sorry." He stopped his rummaging through the cupboards, "I just-everything had changed. You were this person that I didn't- and everyone was so tired and blamed the war on him and you, and," She looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I was afraid." For moment he stood there, breathing in her words.

"So you're no different then they all are." He looked at her. "Accusing me of being the traitor, the murderer, the fucking heartless prick that ruined their lives!" She stared at him with horror.

"No! No! How could you say that? I never-"

"Then what Sakura, why did you fucking abandon me!"

"Because I love you!" He was silenced by her confession, jerking back with wide eyes at the unexpected. She cleared her throat and quickly wiped at her eyes. "I loved you, but I was afraid I would turn back into the little obsessed girl I was before or worse, that you would ignore me." She smiled ruefully. "Naruto and you always had this connection, and I was just, Sakura. I knew you had no feelings for me, and I couldn't deal with your indifference. Then Shin came along, and I figured he would be enough, but it just was never… and then you came and saved me," Her smile turned brighter, and he turned his head away, "And you were so tender and kind and I realized that it was still you, you were still Sasuke-kun."

"You are looking too much into it, it was only a mission. I don't, I don't care for you." He kept his face carefully turned away from her as she approached him. As he felt her presence near, his grip on the counter tightened.

"So I've just been imagining all of those hawks above my head the past couple of weeks then?" Her confident tone made him grit his teeth. He watched in his peripheral vision as her pale hands came up to grasp his face on both sides before forcing him to look her in the eye. "Sasuke, just try for me." He raised his left hand and grabbed her wrist, his thumb brushing over the puckered skin of her scar.

"I can't be who you need me to be. You are better off just forgetting about this." She smiled softly, and he realized that it was the smile of her indulging him.

"I've tried that remember? It didn't work. Besides, I don't need you to be anyone other than Sasuke, that's all I've ever wanted, just Sasuke." He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as his thumbs continued to run over her scars, lowering her hands from his face at the same time. He still wasn't used to such contact.

"They hurt you." It took her a moment to answer, and when she did, her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, they did, very much." He opened his dark eyes to peer into her watery green ones.

"I won't let them hurt you. Ever." She simply nodded.

"I believe you." And even though he stiffened, she brought her arms around him and rested her face upon his chest. "I've always believed in you."

I purposely left out their names for most of the story for some reason,, I forget my logic now. We are going to pretend Shin is the name of the guy who fell in love with Sakura during the war and wrote her the love letter, all of you who read the manga may know what I'm talking about. I know the ending is kind of sappy, but I hoped you all enjoyed it.