Night Breeze

Night Breeze

Disclaimer: Le Gasp! I own not Naruto!

Summary: AU this is not a happy story. Sasuke is admitted in the hospital, bleeding, dying. He did this to himself. Sakura saves his life—can Naruto save his soul? NaruSasu.

A/N: Um. In this story, Sasuke is eighteen-ish, Naruto is over twenty five, and yes, he's older than Itachi. Yeah. 'Cause I don't want to be bothered to specify…heh. Also, Sasuke's eyes are red. Because, you know, he can't have the sharingan in an AU, so I might as well give him cool colored eyes.

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December 31st

The crimson eyes flashed with some sort of primeval joy as the sharp metal of the blade gleamed dully in the dark. The joy of pain, of knowing that in your hand rests a weapon capable of harm. Alabaster skin gleamed too, a little softer than the sheen of the knife in the buttery moonlight. He traced his veins lovingly, and then placed the flat edge of the blade against his skin, hissing at the cool.

Well. There was no point in dallying. The boyling turned the kitchen utensil over until the sharper edge was poised over his wrist, pressed in, and dragged down.

Pain. Fresh and clean and sending a tremor of arousal through his body. But no blood. Perfect pink lips parted in a scowl, and he pressed deeper, harder, dragged down towards his elbow again and managed to nick himself. A bead of blood pooled about an inch left of his vein, and he wiped it off, the scowl deepening. Rising from the soft, warm bed, he made his way on socked feet out of his room, past his brother's, past his parents', downstairs, quietly, to the kitchen…and slid out a crude butchering cleaver. Wistfully, he fingered the delicately shaped, ebony handled vegetable cutter in his other hand—but if it wasn't going to cut his skin, then the cleaver would.

Either that or chop his hand off, and then he could wander the underworld minus one rather dear part of his body. He vaguely wondered if he could learn to type one-handed, and then mentally slapped himself.

Focus.

Back, retracing his steps…back, past his parents' room, past his brother's, into his own. The blade gleamed once more under the moon of winter. The digital alarm beeped midnight, and he imagined he heard the roar of people world wide bringing in the next twelve months of their lives.

"Happy New Year, Sasuke," he whispered to himself, and then metal made contact with skin.

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Itachi stumbled into the house a little past midnight, drunk and shockingly single. Not that he seemed to notice, of course…

"So, baby, you wanna hear something cool about me? I'm like a Rubix cube. The longer you play with me, the harder I get," the once dignified twenty one year old sniggered to thin air, having spent the better part of the night celebrating his right to consume alcohol. He opened the door to what he thought was his room and fell onto his bed, and then turned for his girl, only to find the room empty.

"That's weird," he mumbled, "I could've sworn she was with me until…until…we got in my car, right?"

Something groaned weakly beneath him, and what he had taken to be a pile of his clothes opened a scarlet eye and glared at him.

"You dumbfuck, nii-san, get out, I'm trying to die," his otouto croaked. Itachi finally noticed the red that must have once mirrored the color of Sasuke's eyes, and was damp and crusting into a rusty brown.

It's amazing how quickly one can get over the shaking effects of alcohol when faced with the fact that their younger sibling is lying in a mess of blood and linen, bleeding to death.

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January 1st

"Sakura-san!" Lee huffed, running into the lounge, "We have an emergency!"

"Coming," she said automatically, following him at a running pace to the E.R., "What happened? Car crash?"

"Suicide attempt," the man replied grimly, and the rosette blanched.

"Alert Naruto," Sakura ordered, "He's asleep on the third floor." She burst into the room, where a pale, shattered looking young man held the hand of an even younger man, a mere boy of no more than eighteen. Her breath hitched at the sight: the blood on his wrist, clashing with his ivory skin, his obsidian hair.

"Hook him on the life support system," she barked at the flustered looking nurse, "Get me blood…two, three units. What's his type?" she directed the question in a slightly softer tone towards the man.

"B positive," he replied in a dull voice, "Is he…"

"We'll take care of him," she said, "You need to fill out some forms, and answer some questions, and maybe call your parents?"

"They're on their way," he said in the same monotone, not questioning that she had guessed that they were siblings. The appearances indicated close kinship. "His name's Sasuke," he added, as an afterthought, "In case he wakes up…that's what you should call him. Not mister, he hates that."

"I'll remember," she flashed him a brief smile before disappearing behind a set of doors. Itachi put his head in his hands, and let the tears fall.

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A warm hand on his shoulder made him look up, into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, full of compassion and understanding and a fierce determination to fix everything wrong with the world. "What's your name?" he asked, and the voice was kinder than anything Itachi could bear right now. He ducked his head again. "U-Uchiha. Uchiha Itachi."

"I'm Uzumaki Naruto. Psychologist. I'd like to talk to you about your brother, Itachi."

"Yeah," the male nodded.

"Is there any violence at home?" the blond asked bluntly. Itachi recoiled from his words. "No!"

"Are your parents happy? Has he recently been through any trauma? A death of a family member, a perceived failure?"

"No. No, no. Not that I'm aware of," Itachi said bitterly, loathe to think that he hadn't known what was really going on in his little brother's head.

"Has there been sexual abuse?" the Uchiha really did flinch away from the Uzumaki this time, as he realized the point of the questions. What on earth have you done to this person?

"No," he whispered, just about managing to sound firm.

Naruto nodded, and put a sympathetic hand on the younger man's shoulder again. "Hang in there," he murmured, "It's going to be alright. Doctor Sakura is excellent."

"The pink haired girl? I could tell. She's got this air around her…like she knew he'd be okay. But...she can fix his body. What about his soul?" Itachi looked into the sky blue irises again, "Can you fix his soul?"

"I'm gonna need your help with that," Naruto smiled, leaving out the fact that he didn't believe in souls. You were born, you lived, and you died. That was it.

The alabaster skinned beauty sighed suddenly. "Sasuke…"

Naruto looked toward the room where Sakura would be saving the boy's life. Sasuke. A name that meant assistance, help. A strong name, a name for a pillar of durability. How had that pillar weakened to the point of collapse?

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Warning: Character Death.

XD this is my first attempt at real tragedy, down in the dumps, boo hoo story. The Itachi-Shisui one didn't count cuz…you know. It was about friendship! –waves arms wildly as though it explains everything-