"And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worthwhile,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—
If one, settling a pillow by her head

Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all."'

-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,

T.S Eliot


Itachi's day starts at 3 AM every morning.

Just before dawn, before daylight stretches across the sky; before birds sing their morning song; before sellers and vendors greet the morning crowd, before school children raise and mothers make breakfast. He opens his eyes in the dark stillness of nautical twilight, and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom. Itachi rolls off his back from an old squeaky bed that dips in odd places. He adjusts to sit at its edge and looks down at the floor. Long coal black hair falls like silk sheets over his shoulder. The head of the Uchiha clan rests his palms on his knees and waits for the drowsiness of sleep to leave him completely. Deep breathes normally do the trick as well as a payback of the events the day before. Fluttering his lashes with every inhale, Itachi's vision adjusts to the lack of light enough for him to see the outline of his feet.

Itachi looks over his shoulder to the other side of his bed. The lump of pale blue sheets move in harmony to breathing. His fingers twitch and slide from his thighs across the expanse of the bed towards his bed mate. A sharp pain pinches his shoulder. He hisses and stops his hand's wanderings until the pain subsides. Itachi looks down at his outstretched fingers pale against the cotton blanket, perfect contrast for the glitter of a gold wedding band to catch the minimal light. He stares at it unblinkingly for a moment. Then he sighs, balls his fist to hide the ring, stands and leaves the bedroom.

His house is both old and new, a refurbished place not quite in the old Uchiha compound but close. Living in that place would have been too much to bear. As Itachi walks the lifeless hall of his comfortably sized home, he can see glimpses of the place through the trees in the window.

Every day he tries not to look. Every day he fails.

The sun barely kisses the sky before he runs himself a warm bath. Itachi tries not to notice signs from his current life. There are certain places he just doesn't look, items that he tries not to give too much attention. Doubles of things that, for the longest time, was just one, just his and not hers. Itachi moves things out of the way, a razor, sweet scented body wash, an extra towel, not giving much thought to them as he runs his bathwater. Easing from his clothes, very conscious of his shoulder pain, he secures his hair in a topknot and watches and waits for the water. He washes then soaks in water up to his chin. All of it takes some thirty minutes before he dresses and secures his hair back without looking in the mirror. Between 3:30 and sometimes but rarely past 3:45, he cleans the tub and prepares a second bath. He is sure to be out of the bathroom and in the kitchen to start tea and breakfast.

Itachi moves quietly through the house, careful to step around the wood planks that make the most noise when going down the stairs. Sometimes he has to stop to pick up pieces of broken glass or a few shuriken on the way to the kitchen. Today, it's a vase from last night. Itachi pauses just short of the glittering white porcelain in the hall. As black hair shrouds his face, he bends silently and gathers the pieces in his hands one by one taking care with each one. His mother made this vase when he was just a boy. A pity it had to be a casualty.

When all is clean, he strains his eyes to check for any tiny bits, less either one of them suffer more consequences. There is none so he cradles the vase pieces, the vase made by his mother, into the kitchen and disposes of the shards in the same order with which he collected them. One by one, he drops them into the trash, expressionless and quiet.

The Uchiha detours to the living room instead of starting breakfast. If memory serves, there will be a bit of a mess in here as well. Sliding open the shoji door, the place is not as messy as his memory told him. Itachi sighs in relief and takes measured steps into the minimized chaos. A picture frame is out of place, sofa cushions on the floor and the end table near the sofa is pushed too far out with the trinkets it holds all knocked down. Itachi starts with the picture and readjusts it on the mantle before pausing to get a good look at it. When he does, he grimaces, as this too is something is tries to avoid.

Team Seven was said to be one of the greatest teams Konoha assembled. A team that gave raise to two Hokages, one medical extraordinaire and one formidable enemy. Judging from their squad picture, it is hard to tell that this bright faced kids would be anything more that big dreamers. Itachi brushes the pad of his thumb over the sullen scowl of his younger brother. His smile is sad and longing. Itachi turns away and hides his smile from his brother's face. Perhaps he should pay Sasuke a visit.

A knock at the door draws his attention. Itachi looks up to the ceiling, listening for noise before looking back to the front door. Walking to it, he reaches for the handle, then stops to adjust the sleeves of his shirt before greeting their visit.

"Good morning, Uchiha-san," it's the mailman, a civilian with a wide smile and gentle brown eyes.

Itachi nods his greeting. "Good morning."

"Here's the mail," the mailman holds out the letters, "I would have put it in the box but it looks like it's been knocked down or hit or something. Anyways, you're first on the route so I figured it won't slow me down too much to hand it to you directly."

"Hn," Itachi takes the small stack of mail and tucks it under his arm."Thank you."

The mailman smiles kindly and tips his hat. "Just doing my job. Not all heros can be shinobi, you know. Sometimes it's just regular people like us! Well, enjoy your day and tell Sakura-san good morning."

"Indeed," he mutters and watches the man as he goes on his way. Itachi stands in the doorway a few more seconds before closing it.

The words replay in his mind as he goes back to the living room to sit the mail on the coffee table. Itachi picks up some couch cushions scattered on the floor and pushes the shifted end table back against the sofa. Itachi puts everything back in its place and the little living area of his modest house feels like home again. He blinks once and looks out over the expanse of the room and its normal, common, plain appearance. Perhaps, perhaps now he is just a regular person..

'Regular person', Itachi gives the sentence a try, 'I am not a shinobi anymore...just a regular person.'

His chest flutters. Itachi balls his fists then relaxes them a moment later, pushes down the feeling and turns towards the kitchen. It's time for breakfast.

The rice cooker goes on first, then the tea kettle. A little after 4 am, he opens the windows in the downstairs part of the house. Sunrise creeps higher and he likes to lean against the counter in the kitchen and watch the sky change from blue to red to yellow back to blue again. Itachi closes his eyes as his lower back presses into the tiled countertop. Arms crossed, he listens to the sounds of the morning. Songbirds perch on the branches of newly made birdhouse he'd finished the week before. The man made pond also constructed by his hands stirs with the gentle gust. Village background noise from market vendors and returning shinobi are distant music to what's in his house.

Itachi only opens his eyes when the floorboards above squeak and the gurgling noise of the emptying bath mix with closing doors.

Time to start the eggs. He makes them sunny side up, four in total, two for each of them. Every morning, at 4:45 am, Sakura comes into the kitchen to find eggs and a bowl of rice with a steaming cup of tea waiting for her.

Itachi doesn't take a seat yet. He gives her space and remains near the counter adjacent from the table. He watches her green eyes from his vantage. Her pink hair sticks to the side of her face from washing it in the bath. She dresses in her bathrobe complete with matching white house slippers.

"Good morning, Sakura," Itachi's voice is calm but tucked under his crossed arms are two clenched fist.

Sakura's eyes flutter over the table before flickering over to him. For a second, the only noise in the kitchen is the inconsistent and quite random little thud of water dripping from pink hair onto the wood floor. A plethora of emotions play across her face. She holds his gaze for a few seconds before turning away.

"Itachi," finally she speaks then moves to the table and kneels near her breakfast. "Who was at the door this morning?"

Dark eyes follow her movements but stays put, "The mailman hand delivered the mail since the mailbox is down. He sends his greetings to you."

Sakura doesn't outwardly react but Itachi knows her better. "Okay," she replies and uses her chopsticks to cut the eggs. "You made tea?"

"Yes. Rose tea this morning. Would you have prefered something different?"

She half shrugs and closes her eyes to inhale "It smells good. Is it new?"

Itachi turns the question over in his mind then shakes his head. "No. It was a wedding present from Shizune. You've had it before."

Her eyes open slowly. Though Sakura doesn't say anything, Itachi notes the slight tightening of her grip on the chopsticks. His wife looks back at the cup that wafts out gentle scents of pink and white rose petals. Sakura's nose twitches a little. Itachi catches the fleeting emotion just as light dims in her eyes. He can imagine the thought currently playing in her head. Sakura takes a piece of egg and eats it, green eyes glued to the cup of tea.

"Oh," Sakura whispers then looks at the plate across from hers, "Are you going to eat?"

Itachi's response is automatic. "Not yet."

Her gaze turns sour, "Itachi, you don't have to stand way over there like…"

"I am aware," he cuts her off and looks at the table. "But I would prefer this."

For a moment he thinks he sees a look of guilt but Sakura turns her head away from him before he can make a definite assessment.

Itachi looks at his own eggs across from her. They will be cold by the time he gets to eating them. It can't be helped though, not at the moment. He is, after all, married now, for better or for worse he is. Itachi can think of a number of things far worse. Just the same as he can think of another of things far better. Despite his thoughts, Haruno Sakura is his wife and this is his life now, cold eggs and all.

He takes to looking out of the window over the kitchen sink. By now, the sun is high enough that he doesn't need to turn on lights in the house. It casts a bright white glow on the stainless steel sink. Itachi's eyes slowly go unfocused as he stares and wonders. He certainly could eat his eggs now. Most married couples eat together when they can. But the question is whether she will let him. Sakura's temperament is as changing as the wind and he's learned to take caution with little things.

"You cleaned up," Sakura's voice draws his attention.

Itachi looks down at her small hands, one holding up the bowl of rice and the other pulling chopsticks down from her lips. Those hands that can easily break the ceramic dish if she wants it so. The same hands that heal him of his disease. The same hands that hold him.

"I did," Itachi responds cooly.

Sakura's lips twitch and, much to his surprise, she looks upon him with kind eyes that glitter with a sort of playful innocence that makes him stand up a bit straighter. Itachi looks away for a brief second, trying to place this new thing she's done. When his eyes look back to her, the rice bowl is down and she's pulling herself up from the cushion. Her feet cross the distance and reaches for him.

His chest clenches at the pressure on his wrist when she pulls, triggering his earlier pain. Itachi lets her lead him to the table. Suddenly, Sakura swings around, pink hair fraying out, temporarily filling the air with the sweet smell of cherry shampoo. She steps close to him. Itachi holds completely still when her hand reaches for his cheek and rests there.

Green eyes look on him critically, dancing from one spot to another. Itachi watches her eyes, wishing for all his worth that he could see them like he used too. But he can't. He's a second behind each movement when, before, he was always a second ahead. Sakura surprises him. She always surprises him but only because he can't read her. He can't read anyone, not anymore. 'Regular people like us'. The phrase comes back with alarming clarity and suddenly Itachi wants to move away from her hands. Away from this house, this village, this life.

'Regular people'

Sakura's lips part, gasping quietly. Itachi does not make assumptions and waits while she watches him. She reaches up for a lock of his hair then pulls it forward to shade the side of his face she once held. Then and only then does she lean up and kiss him minutely. Automatically his eyes slip close.

His lips are hers to do as she pleases. Itachi lets her kiss him like he lets her do a lot of things. He needs this. He needs her. She needs him and they lean on each other, sucking the life from each other. It's not always her at fault. Some days he is provoking, other days they both do it to each other. Sakura's mind is as changing as her emotions but, just like him, she's perceptive. She knows him. She knows how to kiss him with expert knowledge of his neediness. Sakura has a way with her tongue that fascinates him almost as much as it frightens him. This is the woman that kisses him with the same mouth she curses him. Itachi sinks under both of them and falls more and more into everything Sakura is.

When her hands and fingers, so slender and rough, cradle his face, Itachi allows his thoughts to flip through every good thing this marriage gives him. Sakura saved him in ways indescribable. Because of her, he was allowed to return to the place he called home. Because of her, he is not a prisoner. His debt is infinite as the entire village likes to remind him. She is the one who sacrificed so much for a criminal. That's what they say because that's what they see. Itachi sees Sakura in ways no one else does. She gives him life while wishing for his death. Even as her lips slide over his, he's very aware that her thoughts are elsewhere on someone else. Then again, so are his. So he holds her the way he knows she wants him to, by the waist and tightly.

Then the tingles start and the sizzling hum of medical chakra fizzle near his ears. Flickers of light spark in the corner of his eye. Itachi stops his lips from moving, trying to pull away. Sakura tightens her hold on his face and presses the finger closest to the bruise on his eye into his skin. His eyes open and he sees that hers are still closed. She keeps kissing him and holding him and healing him. The combination of sensations, lips to lips, healing chakra to open cuts down his cheek and black eye, heartbeat against heartbeat: Itachi stops his resistance.

The healing lasts only a few seconds. Sakura pulls away then tucks the hair that she moved over his eye behind his ear. She smirks, pleased, happy, and caresses his face. Itachi holds his breath at this breathtaking view of his Sakura, so sweet and so kind. Holding her close, having coming down from the high of a good morning kiss, he can almost forget that she is the reason he was in need of healing in the first place.

"You should eat, Sakura." Itachi finally says. "You have work at the hospital today."

Sakura pulls back but doesn't move away. "Only until early evening. Then Ino and I are going to go hang out for a bit." she backs away after that, leaving his arms for the table instead.

He congratulates himself mentally for not reaching out and pulling her back to him. Itachi does, however, dare to ask.

"Again?"

To Sakura's credit, her anger did not flash like it normally does but her tone is sharp. "We just want to spend some girl time together. You know how I work and how busy she is. We hardly get to see each other. If it makes you feel better, I promise to be back before dinner."

Itachi stays quiet a moment, assessing her words. The choice is hers."Stay out with her longer, if you wish."

Sakura sits her bowl down when she regards him, his instincts flare in warning. "If I wish? Do you want me to stay out late?"

"It's not about me. Do as you please," he responds evenly.

Sakura narrows her eyes suspiciously at him. "If you don't want me around, Itachi, just say so. I'll spend the night at Ino and Sai's place."

He watches as she takes to eating again, avoiding his gaze the entire time. Though her reasoning eludes him. They both know what this is so why does Sakura look so guilty? Perhaps she is in need of reminding.

"There is no need for you to stay there, Sakura. This is your home as well as mine. However, if you choose to stay, I will not stop you."

She huffs, shakes her head and rolls her eyes all at the same time. "Three years and you'd think we'd be better at communicating." she gripes and snatches her bowl of rice.

Sensing a shift in tone, Itachi tries to clarify, speaking slowly to be sure she understands him. "I've said my honest thoughts to you, Sakura. Where is the miscommunication?"

She avoids his gaze and bites her lip. Itachi waits with all the patience he has for her to tell him what is really behind her snapping at him this morning. Sakura takes only a few minutes before her cheeks tint pink. A lesser man would assume she is blushing from some lecherous thought. He knows that she can blush for a number of things...but lechery with regards to him is not one of them.

Sakura speaks. Hushed and muffled. "Why…? Why can't you...just pretend to care about me for once?"

Itachi blinks. Then blinks again. For a moment, he thinks he's heard her wrong. Is that not what they do everyday? Pretend? He's been pretending to care about everything for three years now. For her sake. More importantly and closer to her previous outburst, her frustrations confuse him because she knows what this is.

So why this? Why now? He frowns and stares at her staring at the kitchen sink. Sakura will not even look at him. That is even more of a reminder of their unique situation. She's had to heal this eye this morning, another reminder of his 'care'. Hell, he's in this village because of her, this marriage because of her, this...moment of uselessness because of her.

Itachi's fist clench to white knuckles as years of longing return and taunt with him with how he can't read her mind. He tapers his temper to give her an answer.

"That's not quite how this works, Sakura."

His words make her head snap in his direction and demands of him. "Then explain it to me."

Itachi shakes his head, not wanting to go there so early in the day.

"The agreements of this marriage is something we both know. You are my wife. I am your husband. I am here for whatever you need. You are here to keep the elders pacified."

The coloring in Sakura's cheeks darken as well as the storm in her green eyes. She glares fiercely at him and nearly splints her chopsticks.

"So that's it? We're just an agreement? Screw whatever the hell happens, so long as we keep our word?"

Slowly, Itachi shrugs one shoulder. "We are what we are, Sakura."

"How can you be so passive about this?"

"Would you rather I respond in anger?"

"I hit you!" Sakura yells, snapping her chopsticks in half and cracking the ceramic bowl of rice. She slams them both on the table. "You didn't even try to stop me last night."

To this Itachi nods once in agreement. "Yes, you did. Not for the first time, might I add. My response was the same last night as it was the other times your temper turned violent. Why are you so upset about it now?"

Sakura smacks her teeth at him. "Why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me just do that to you? Why didn't you do somethin-"

"With what?" Itachi quickly cuts her off, quirky a brow at her outburst. "Have you forgotten so quickly that you are the one that took my Sharingan? That you are here to make sure I am to remain without it and any sizeable amount of chakra?"

Itachi turns his palms up and spreads them before her. "Do you want my indignation at your actions?"

"Yes! God, Itachi give me something to show that...that you don't hate me." Sakura pleads. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry. Yesterday was so overwhelming and they were talking about Sasuke and I saw you and I...I just snapped. But you didn't even bat an eye at what I'd done. You started the day like every other day, making me breakfast and watching me eat as if nothing I do matters to you. I could give you a black eye or sleep at another man's house and you'd just take it all in stride."

Itachi closes his eyes and listens to her rant. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from telling her of the contradictions and hypocrisy of her accusation towards him. The very reason this marriage works is because Sakura hates him and he hates himself for what happened to Sasuke. Their mutual hatred allows her anger the best outlet. The target of her hatred is submissive to her abuse due to his own self loathing over the same issue. Itachi lets Sakura do as she pleases to him as penitence for not keeping his promise to keep Sasuke safe. And alive. She speaks of hate as if it is a nonexistent or one sided thing in their marriage when it is actually at its foundation.

Now, just like yesterday, he will suffer her abuse. Ease her burden, carry her anger, take everything as recompense. Even this. He's at the mercy of her indulgence and whims, her outburst and accusations.

Shaking his head, he opens his eyes and tries to soothe her ruffled feathers. "I don't hate you, Sakura. I also don't take what you do in stride. I understand you."

Itachi leans over the table and grabs her chopsticks, switching them with his own. He exchanges their rice bowls as well. "I'm sorry if my way of processing things upset you. I'll be more open, if that's what you truly wish. As for yesterday, you didn't hurt me as bad as you think. I forgive you for hitting me. And, unless I am on a mission, I make it a habit not to hit women."

She snorts at this. "So now you can't fight back because I'm a girl?"

He can't win with her. She'll find fault in whatever he says or does, whether it's eating breakfast or being a gentleman. Deep down, she despises him and her actions are all filtered through that.

Itachi knows that.

Sakura knows that.

They both pretend it doesn't exist.

"You're strong," Itachi appeases, "You can hurt me if you really wanted to and we both know that there is little I can do to stop you."

Sakura doesn't protest his words or his actions. Itachi watchs as she starts eating his rice, red faced but appeased. He could laugh at her misgivings. Last night and this morning is no different. In the end, he does as she pleases and it pleases her to be pleased. Itachi is open to her whims. Her power over him stems from her hatred of him turning Sasuke into what he was. So if Sakura wants to kiss him, he opens his mouth. If she wants to hit him, he doesn't flinch. If she wants to argue, he indulges then apologizes when she demands it. The balance and bases of their relationship has not changed at all.

Sakura will pretend this is just some normal marital spat. She'll go to work and gossip to her coworkers about their 'lovers' quarrel' this morning, but vent her hatred of him tonight to Ino. Itachi can't be angry at that. After all, this marriage is little more than a lifelong mission for her, one that's taken away a precious milestone that all women hope for. Her indignation is justified. He doubts that when she perfected her medical craft, Sakura dreamed that it will one day tie her and hold her hostage to a known criminal in an unhappy, sham marriage. For better or for worse, she is a glorified babysitter and prison guard.

"What's for dinner?" Sakura finally speak with a mouth full of rice.

Itachi's thoughts halts then discontinue altogether. He eases down on his cushion but doesn't touch the food. "What would you like?"

Sakura shrugs and finishes the eggs, "Surprise me."

He nods and watches as she stands up from the table. Sakura looks down at him and cocks her head to the side. She smiles almost lovingly. "Thank you for understanding, Itachi. Oh and I owe you a new vase. I'll find one on the way back from work."

Itachi's jaw muscles flex in tune with the sudden fluctuation in his chest. That vase was the only thing he had left of his parents. The same parents he killed, along with his entire clan in the very same massacre that should have left him with consequences of death. At the moment, he wished it had. But he will not say as much.

"There is no need," Itachi replies and looks at his eggs "That vase belonged to my mother. There are no more in production."

"Not even an old one in some antique shop?"

"It would be a rare find."

"Ah, I'll look into it," Sakura assures, "Besides, it's the least I can do." She walks over to him, leans down and presses her lips to the crown of his head. "I'll make it up to you."

Sakura pulls back and leaves the room with the linger scent of cherry shampoo. Itachi knows this is as close to an apologize she'll give him. In many ways it's better because she usually does make it up to him in one way or another. In an odd sort of way, he lives for those moments when Sakura is the sweetest she'll ever be to him.

Itachi finishes his breakfast and it's only as he's clearing the table does he realize Sakura did not take one sip of her tea. Itachi's holding the full cup, looking into its watery depth when his wife comes back into the kitchen, fully dressed. He looks up at her and she watches him.

Sakura ignores the obvious question on his face to ask her own. "Are you going out today or staying inside? It's nice out, maybe you could get some fresh air."

Itachi doesn't answer. He turns towards the sink and pours her tea, the rose tea Shizune bought for their wedding, down the drain of the kitchen sink. He watches the pink tinted liquid slide down and disappear. Its subtle rose aroma slowly fades and he sits the cup down to roll up his sleeves for cleaning.

"Itachi?" Sakura calls.

He doesn't turn around as he hears her approach. Sakura stands beside him then leans a little to get into his line of vision. Itachi takes great care to peek at her face through his hair. She takes his arm in both hands then wraps her fingers around the purple green and red markings up to nearly his elbows.

Itachi turns his body slightly to watch as the sting of healing chakra shoots up his arm up to his shoulder. Sakura keeps her head slightly bowed and if he leans in just right, he gets a nose full of the cherry scent skin products she favors. Itachi does just that, leans down and closes his eyes as he buries his face in her hair.

Sakura heals him with the same hands that hurt him. She warms his entire body with skills that can break him. The same woman that can make him taste cherry scents in the morning and bitter blood at night. His Sakura. His wife. Sakura's fury is, if anything, a small mercy. The gods could do so much worse than a whirlwind of his cherry blossom.

When she's done, Itachi moves his arm to pull her into his side. Sakura goes to him easily and holds still when he leans down to kiss her cheek. She sighs, he congratulates himself on an accurate assessment of her needs. This morning, Sakura wants affection from him. Itachi gives it freely and kisses her forehead and other cheek as well.

"I'll go outside," Itachi whispers to her ear.

"For how long?"

Itachi presses his cheek to hers. "A few hours, perhaps. I want to finish the back garden. Afterwards, I may go to one of the train grounds if they are empty. If time allows, I was considering going to see Sasuke."

Suddenly, Sakura draws back from every point of contact they have and turns away from him. Itachi stands straight then frowns as she walks away. He follows silently after her retreating form to the living room of their home. Sakura wordlessly puts on her shoes, fastening the small heels in place with her back to him. He doesn't need her to look at him to know that face she's making. Though he thought he'd given her an answer she would be pleased with, the aggression with which she forces her shoe straps in place screams otherwise.

"I've already changed the flowers at the site so if that's why you're going to see Sasuke, don't bother." Sakura informs the stands, "I'll be back with the vase. Try not to train too hard."

Then she leaves without so much as a backwards glance. Itachi looks at the closed door then sighs. Right. He broke the illusion by mentioning the person she likes to pretend he is. A small oversight that Itachi will be careful not to make in the future.

"Training will have to wait," he muses aloud and looks over his shoulder. Hopefully when Sakura comes home, she does not have a desire to destroy the living room again.

Itachi goes to sits on the couch in the quietness of their home. He'll plan dinner first, something nice that Sakura will enjoy and hopefully oversee his mess up.

Itachi grabs the notepad on the dining table, tears off the page with the sprinkles of dark red blood then makes his shopping list for all of her favorite things.


Word Count: 5,494 words

Musical Inspiration: Cherry Wine, Like Real People Do by Hozier

A/N:First ever published Naruto fanfic, courtesy of my Hozier binge. Hope the OOC-ness didn't perturb you too much.

Peace, Love and Pasta,

-CeCe ^^