Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Kishimoto's characters. All I own are the few OC's thrown into the background and the plotline. This disclaimer will only be posted in this first chapter, but it applies to the entire story.

All The Choices

Sadly, this wasn't the first time Haruno Sakura had been doing some mundane task like studying for an exam in the library or making lunch for the next day before everything went black. It wasn't a nightmare-ish black like one would expect to be engulfed in, but more like a reluctant peace; unwelcome only because she knew she didn't have time for the luxuries of napping. Not with all the extra classes she was taking to graduate with her peers, her part-time job, all those exams-

Her mind sputtered on that one thought. Exams. Biology exam. The one that held her graduation from medical school in the palm of its evil evil hand. How the hell could she be sleeping when she had only twenty-four hours before she had to ace the test? The sudden panic that flooded her mind was like freezing cold water splashed on her face. Sakura jolted awake, blinking away the black and white static in her vision as she fought the dizziness that was trying to take hold of her body and mind; trying to lull her back into its waiting arms so she could rest her eyes a little longer. She couldn't go back to sleep – even if it did feel like the most wonderful thing in the world. She still had a few chapters to review in her book, and some spelling to practice (she would not allow herself to be marked down because she couldn't remember how to spell a few words). She wasn't even close to being able to pass the exam with the flying colors she was striving for.

It may have not been the first time that she had blacked out from overexerting herself, but it was definitely the first time that she woke up someplace other than her apartment or the library. And what was worse, whatever small, cramped, black room she was in was moving; jostling back and forth so sharply that she was almost thrown into the wall.

"Good, you're up." Sakura regretted looking up so fast when a joint in her neck cracked painfully, leaving her to look up through watery eyes as she bit her lip and cursed her reflexes. "Sorry about all this. It was the only way to make sure you wouldn't cause a scene."

She blinked quickly and her eyes were drawn towards the only source of light (flickering lights that came and went) and her heart flew up into her throat, leaving her to cough and sputter when the van she was in turned sharply and threw her onto her side. She was expecting to land on a cold, hard surface – nothing about the mysterious, cold van screamed warm, carpeted floors – but she was even more alarmed when she landed on something warm and soft. And even more so when said warm and soft thing groaned and moved.

The man's deep voice finally seemed to reach her ears; an odd lilt in his voice said he found the situation more humorous and comical than serious. 'It was the only way to make sure you wouldn't cause a scene.' 'Cause a scene?' And dragging a body – two, by the feel of the person beside her – into a van at night wasn't a scene in and of itself? Sakura opened her mouth, ready to demand answers to her many questions, beginning with who the man was, where she was, how they had kidnapped her in the first place-

The word brought on an entirely new feel to the situation. Dread washed over her and her breath hitched in her throat at the thought. Kidnapped. She had been kidnapped. Well...was currently in the process of being kidnapped, but the details didn't change the fact that she was being stolen. She placed her hand firmly on the wall beside her when the van took a sharp left, threatening to give her one hell of a headache if she hit it.

She wanted to do so many things in that moment. Scream for help. Cry. Maybe even charge the man in the front seat in the hopes that it would throw him off guard enough for her to find a way out of the van. A few other ideas - slightly more colorful, but not exactly more realistic - flashed through her mind so quick she had a hard time keeping track of them.

Another clear thought came to her mind, and it felt like another icy cold bucket of water was thrown right in her face. She felt foolish for sitting there, wallowing in terror (and a bit of self-pity) when she should have been thinking about how to get out of this mess. She absently pushed the hair out of her face, though that didn't give her a much better look at her surroundings. Light flashed overhead, and she could see two people sitting in the front seats.

Holding her breath, Sakura leaped into motion and limped forward on her knees and one hand; feeling like it would be a bad idea to try and stand up in a van that made frequent sharp turns. She kept the other hand out to her side, sliding along the wall for what she was looking for. Sakura didn't take her eyes off the silhouettes in the front seats though, and kept her gaze locked on them as she moved forward, feeling along the wall for what she knew was there- Aha! A handle. The adrenaline pumping through her system made it difficult to pull at the handle quietly – hoping to maybe avoid detection until the last possible moment. The realization that the van was moving (and it didn't feel like they were moving too slowly) gave her enough reason to hesitate. What would she do if the door did open? Jump, duck, and roll? What then?

Jumping out would be better than being stuck in here with them, Sakura thought (with what she had hoped was the rational part of her mind). With her decision made, she jerked the handle madly, pulling at it several more times when the door didn't move. She had half-expected icy cold air to meet her, and let out a disappointed whine when the air around her didn't change. Dread seemed to take on a mass and make her stomach heavy, and her hands clammy - the door wasn't opening. Maybe it was just stuck, and if she could only pull a little harder it would-

"Stop it." This voice was different. Higher but colder, and it wasn't a request. Sakura pulled on the handle again, feeling tears finally swell up in her eyes. She heard movement from one of the men in the front seats and she jumped, pushing herself away from the door and scrambling back and away from them, suddenly feeling foolish for getting that close in the first place. Her hand slipped on something warm and wet under her, making her feel (and probably look) more helpless than she already was as she landed flat on her back. Whatever was underneath her was now soaking into her jacket and she shivered at the odd sensation and attempted to ignore the part of her mind that screamed about her newly purchased jacket being soiled so quickly. The man had merely twisted in his seat enough to look at her; the light flashing behind him made it impossible to make out any of his features outside of some unkempt hair. With a single finger, he motioned to the person laying beside her.

"She has a gunshot wound on her lower abdomen. You'll need to stop the bleeding quickly." That brought a whole new round of questions to her tongue – a gunshot wound? They would go as far as to shootus? - but with a glance at the pale body beside her, she realized she might not be in the best position to demand answers. After looking between the man and the woman with wide, fearful eyes the man chuckled. It wasn't dark and sinister like she would expect from an ordinary kidnapper. It was light and cheerful, like he truly found her akin to a stumbling and confused kitten. "There is some gauze over there," he pointed to the other corner of the van, "and I'd hurry up if I were you."

A flash of light from the streetlamps overhead gave her enough light to see a gray messenger bag. With a glance at the woman lying beside her, Sakura decided that now was as good a time as any to do what she was told. An escape plan could wait until the woman's bleeding was stopped. And if she stabilized the girl enough, she could escape with her without jarring the injury to the point that it would cause more bleeding. Sakura felt herself slip into what she commonly called 'medic-mode', banishing all other thoughts from her mind except getting the woman beside her to stop bleeding and access how much damage had been done by the bullet. A small, robotic voice in her said that there was a chance the woman's vital organs or stomach had been punctured by the wound, but she had to push that out of her mind as well. If that was the case (and the two men up front would most likely not take a detour to the hospital) the woman didn't have much of a chance.

Sakura slid over to where the man had pointed and opened the gray bag – it vaguely reminded her of her own medical bag – and stopped for a moment. If the first flash of light showed what she thought it did, then she had to wait for another one to confirm it. What kind of kidnappers have these kind of supplies? Sakura felt like she was wading through a mini supply closet of butterfly band aids, compression wrappings, antibiotic cream, bottles of morphine tied to several syringes by rubber bands, gauze-

Sakura stopped her hasty search when her eyes landed on the large pieces of gauze at the bottom of the bag – the only things not held in the many side pockets that lined the inside of the extremely well-stocked medical bag – and moved over to the woman.

The girl didn't look that much older than Sakura was. Her dark hair was half-pulled out of a pony tail, leaving strands to stick to her neck and face as she took deep, controlled breaths. She appeared to be concentrating hard on breathing evenly, determination set into the deep lines between her brows. Her black eyes were staring at the ceilings, open and glazed, but open – which was the important part. Sakura took a moment to inspect the woman who was taking being shot and kidnapped surprisingly well. (Luckily, she repressed the urge to make a lame joke about 'coming here often', and saved herself from looking even more uncomfortable and foolish.) The woman looked nothing like the medical student did. Didn't kidnappers go after the same type of people? A signature or something? She was wearing a pair of nice slacks with a light colored button up shirt – the splash of red by her right hip made it clear that the man was not joking about the gunshot wound – whereas Sakura wore comfortable jeans and a jacket.

Sakura felt a little embarrassed as she reached towards the woman to gently wiggle the shirt out of the waistband of her bands, then up and over her stomach, exposing the fresh wound to her eyes and the cold air. The woman breathed in sharply through her clenched teeth and the muscles in her jaw were taunt, but she remained still and otherwise quiet. Sakura sighed in relief. She wasn't thrashing, screaming, praying for mercy from whatever God she worshiped - she was merely still and calm. The perfect patient.

The moment she began wiping away the excess blood, the medic in her kicked in and she leaned over to glance at the woman's face. "How long ago did this happen?"

She tried to keep her voice low, but the shifting in the front seat told her that the man had heard her, and was now watching her. Yay, she thought sarcastically, I have an audience.

"Forty-five minutes-"

"It's been an hour," the man interrupted. Sakura's eyes snapped up to catch her first glimpse of him via a flash of the streetlamps and her new angle. His skin was very pale - almost as pale as the woman's beside Sakura - and his dark eyes were watching her intently; the first hint that he noticed how serious the mess they were in was. (Even outside of the gunshot wound, they would be going to jail for kidnapping the moment Sakura could get away to the police.) That illusion of seriousness, however, was shattered when her eyes dropped to his mouth. The corners of his lips were turned up in a semi-smile that seemed to fit his face, but not the situation. Does he always smile when it's inappropriate?

'Medic-mode Sakura' kicked back in, ignoring the man and focusing on the amount of time that had elapsed since the woman sustained the blow. The fact that she was still alive and conscious after an hour was astonishing, and it meant that nothing vital had been hit.

Sakura nodded once to show that she had heard him and looked away now that he was shrouded in darkness again. The van took a sharp turn and she had to grab the woman's hip and shoulder to keep her from sliding away and her body from bending. She heard Mr. Smiles (a substitute name Sakura decided on) mutter something about driving more carefully. She idly decided that she would learn his real name when she testified against him in court, a thought that almost brought a smile to her face. It only earned him a grunted reply from his partner, though, and if any other conversation took place, Sakura carefully placed it out of her mind and focused again on her new patient. A voice in the back of her mind quietly wished that she had some sort of hair tie to keep her pink locks in check, but because her own bag was nowhere to be found, she had to settle for simply brushing the strands away whenever they became too distracting in front of her eyes. The wound had been cleaned of blood that had been drying on her pale skin, but new blood was still replacing the old as she worked. Sakura slid back over to where the gray messenger bag was sitting and grabbed more gauze, and shuffled through it for a moment until she found some tape she could use as well.

"I have to put pressure on it," Sakura informed her quietly. The woman's dark eyes flickered for a moment - either in understanding or from irritation at the flashing lights - but other than that she made no movements. Sakura carefully folded up a large piece of gauze and placed it gently over the wound, using her palm to press down into the woman's hip with practiced pressure. The woman winced and let out a loud cough - drawing Mr. Smiles's attention for a moment - before letting her head fall back against the floor with a thud and staring into space once again.

Does she even realize what's happening? Trying to work with one hand, Sakura tore a large piece of tape off the roll with her teeth and placed it firmly over the gauze, making sure to gently smooth the tape over the woman's stomach to hold it in place. After a few more pieces were ripped off, Sakura sat back (sighing in irritation when she sat in - what could only be - another puddle of blood) and let the roll of tape fall to her side. With a jolt, Sakura's eyes swept the woman before her and she realized that in her panic, she had completely forgotten about another possibility.

"I'm just going to turn you on your side for a moment, okay?" The woman still gave no sign that she had heard or understood Sakura; her eyes were still fixed to the ceiling above her. Very carefully, Sakura slipped her hands under the shoulder and waist of the woman, careful to move her slowly as she rolled her over just enough for Sakura to see a wound almost identical to the one on her stomach, on her back.

Sakura helped the woman lay flat on her stomach, watching her tilt her head to the side enough so Sakura could just make out the part of her face that wasn't covered in shadows or wisps of black hair. "It looks like a clean through and through. I'll need to bandage this side as well." She wasn't too sure why she was talking anymore - the woman either didn't care enough to respond or actually couldn't hear and understand her - but she supposed it was just habit. Most people seemed to like knowing what was happening to then while their doctors did their jobs. Sakura set to work quickly, cleaning the extra blood off her too-pale skin and setting another bandage tightly over the wound.

"Will she be alright?" Sakura jumped at the voice. Her medic-mode-self had forgotten that she wasn't alone, and as the voice brought her back to her current situation, she felt the confident grasp she had once held slip away until she was sitting against the wall, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths and willing herself not to cry. A question quickly formed in her mind, and she had to stop herself from asking it automatically.

Why me? What made Sakura so special that two (probably insane) men would decide to take her? She got all of her school loans from good, reliable companies that would rather reposes her things than kidnap her, and she had no other close ties to any part of the community or surrounding areas. She didn't have the 'wrong' kind of friends, or many friends at all, and she knew the few that she did have would never be caught up in the drug or gang businesses. So why me? Why her? Sakura's eyes dropped down to the woman whose shirt was still raised up and over her stomach, revealing sickly pale skin and the blood-soaked gauze taped tightly to her.

"Will she be alright." The cold tone was sharper and deeper this time despite the voice itself being almost airy-light, no longer putting forth pleasantries like a proper question. Sakura forced herself to take another few shaky breaths, having not realized that she was holding them back and that her lungs and throat were beginning to burn.

"It's been an hour?" A grunt from the front of the van was her only reply. "If she hasn't lost consciousness already, that's a good sign." There was something that sounded like a low, angry growl from the front of the van and Sakura suddenly wondered if that had been the wrong answer. (That was her medical opinion, how could it have been wrong?) She heard that same, low and humorous chuckle from Mr. Smiles and she suddenly wanted to scream at him, utterly and completely outraged. What part of this situation is funny?

"A good medic doesn't make those kind of guarantees, Itachi." With a sharp turn to the left, the momentum threw Sakura clear across the back of the van – her head hitting the hard wall harshly - and the flashing lights ahead of them disappeared.

0. This won't be a long story, but hopefully the title will begin to explain itself soon - I know it appears to be really random. Three...four chapters maximum, but I'm hoping to make up for that with hella long chapters and hopefully some comical/interesting dialogue and situations. There really isn't a chance that it will be longer than that, since I know how it will end (and it can't really last that long). Sorry to all those who were expecting something longer.

1. I'm not one to hog credit, so I must say that this idea came to me while reading BlueGreenApples's wonderful oneshots titled 'Despotic, Quixotic and Everlasting'. I'll honestly say that I can't understand a lot of what she's saying with her insane vocabulary and frequent use of words that send me flying to the dictionary, but I still love the oneshots, nonetheless. Not all of them are in the mafia setting, but the ones that are sparked an interest in me that eventually lead to this.

2. I won't lead people on with the possible pairings, either. The main character is Sakura, and I didn't 'forget' to add her male counterpart because I wanted it to stay a surprise. There won't be any romance. Some harmless flirting? Perhaps. But no couples outside of the smaller ones that I've created in the story will make an appearance.

3. Since Shisui doesn't get much attention in the series, I can't really say if he is out of character or not, since I'm not familiar with his character outside of what Narutopedia can tell me (which isn't all that much). He seems like he'd be a more outgoing guy, and probably leaning towards Obito in temperament and such rather than Sasuke. Anyway, if you have a better source of information on Shisui's personality (not appearance or abilities - I have enough info on that) I would love to take a look so I can make sure he is in character.

4. Thanks for reading, and remember to review to let me know whether you're enjoying the short story so far or hating it with a burning passion.

Beta: FeatheredxWings