The Storm Outside

Sakura: 17-18 (Padawan)

Itachi: 22-23 (Master Jedi)

"Master Itachi!"

In the second tower of the Jedi Temple, Itachi stopped at the Minister's voice. His expression as even as always, he listened as the portly man tripped to a stop, grabbing Itachi's arm to support himself as he caught his breath.

"Ah! So-glad-I caught you!" He huffed and puffed. "I was curious as to your most educated opinion on the situation in—"

"I apologize, I am requested at the Academy," interrupted Itachi with a graceful bow, his robes ghosting across the floor soundlessly.

"Ah… of course. Well then, might you be free—"

"My deepest apologies, I am called away often and do not wish to disappoint such an esteemed authority. The High Council is always willing to listen to your concerns," said Itachi with well-rehearsed sincerity. With a smooth turn he was on his way again, his boots leaving the faintest of taps against the stone floor, muffled by his elegantly cut robes.

Itachi had nearly made it through three corners before he was ambushed again.

"Is that you, Master Itachi? I didn't know you were visiting. Do you have a moment, because the distant Suna galaxy recently approached us about—"

"Excuse me, I am needed at the Academy," said Itachi, not slowing his pace.

"—and we could use your talents, and... There was talk of…"

Breathing in and out through his nose, Itachi reminded himself that there were plenty of ears to listen to their concerns, and he was not to interfere in others' affairs. Suna fell within Master Temari's territory, as that advisor well knew. If they were too intimidated by Temari to approach her, they obviously weren't desperate enough.

The base of the Tower in his sights, Itachi exhaled slowly and relaxed his pace.

—and was snatched again, this time by a group of Senators who surrounded him at the base of the stairs.

"The man himself! Tell us, Master Itachi, when you said you had no interest in a position on the High Council, what were your reasons? For we feel that it is in everyone's best interests to at least consider the benefits of your participation in such a respected capacity. Please take a moment to elaborate. We are all your most devoted supporters and—"

The flash of irritation in Itachi's eyes warned them back as he sluiced through the sycophantic mob with determination clear in his every movement.

"Excuse me," he said coldly.

The icicles dangling from his words stopped them in their tracks.

There was a faint snap to his robes as they whipped around his legs when strode off again.

From that point on no one stepped in his path, and many froze as they approached him.

He wasn't misusing his gift with the Force, by any means… merely… nudging the annoyances clear of him in order to make his way to the…

His shoulders sagged minutely as he arrived.

… empty hangar behind the Academy.

Too late.

Entering the hangar and looking around, he stared hard at the location the ship was normally found. There was no one about. He was alone.

He exhaled before he heard the first tink from above him. Then another.

A plink, followed by several more, ricocheted off the transparisteel windows before the heavens opened and unleashed a noisy torrent of rain upon the duracrete structure.

Itachi closed his eyes.

Again.

His fists, covered by the long sleeves of his robes, tightened until the tendons stood out against his pale, silver-scarred skin, his nails carving pink crescents into his palms. His mouth tasted sour with disappointment.

There will be another time, he reassured himself, taking a deep breath and focusing again. There will be another time.

It isn't as if I promised… Or gave any hint… Or insinuated any intention…

"It-Master Itachi?"

Startled, Itachi's eyes flew open as he turned to the sound of her quiet, surprised voice. He poked his head out into the pouring rain and in the creeping darkness of night found the ship parked in the shadow of the large hangar, off the beaten track, almost hidden.

"Did you find him, Sprout?" called Kisame, his gravelly voice echoing.

"My name is Sakura!" she shouted back into a cavernous hull, her tiny fists at her sides shaking with her anger.

They were still there.

"Temper temper, Sprout. Keep shouting at me and I'll chop you off at the roots!" Kisame's laugh bellowed across the slick, grassy knoll.

Itachi darted out of the protective cover of the hangar, tracing the sounds of their squabbling until he found them.

And there, in the falling shadows, Sakura stood limned in light from the bottom of the steps that led up into the ship.

The moment Sakura laid eyes on him, the positive static of her unleashed Force nearly knocked Itachi off his feet before it wrapped around him like a warm, comforting blanket, embracing and soothing his frayed nerves and thinning patience. He had never encountered anyone who could suppress their Force signature the way she could; the way she had no doubt learned to while she was a refugee, running for her life, hiding from the genocide. Even now, when they traveled together, she often made so little sound that he found himself watching her, ensuring she was truly breathing, living, alive and—

—and there she was.

The tension in his shoulders melted away as he looked up at Sakura smiling down at him.

"Storm," she said, as if that explained everything. Her bright eyes softened as they met his.

"Storm," agreed Itachi quietly, his heart calm and serene once more as the choppy waters of his inner focus turned placid in her presence. She often had that effect on him, for reasons he refused to explore.

For he was a Jedi, and Jedi knew no bonds. Not true bonds.

Not bonds the likes of which he may otherwise have been tempted to examine, savour, treasure and encourage, had he been anyone but who, what, he was. Had she been anyone but what, who, she was.

Not true bonds. He was not Master Kakashi, after all.

No.

No, they were Jedi.

There could never, between them, be… bonds.

His Padawan, temporarily entrusted to his closest ally, bit her lip and distracted him from his thoughts.

"Do you have time to meditate? Someone keeps interrupting me when I try to focus," said Sakura, just loud enough for Kisame to hear.

Fighting the urge to smile, Itachi nodded.

"Of course."

"We're heading out as soon as the storm clears," said Kisame, climbing down the stairs to stand behind Sakura.

"Understood," said Itachi, already following Sakura as she turned back inside the ship. It was larger than a shuttle, but still compact enough to feel cozy.

Or perhaps that was Sakura's Force, still wrapped around him.

"Hn?" he asked his friend as he followed Sakura aboard. Behind them, Kisame stepped out into the rainy night, whistling.

"Master Kisame?" asked Sakura, looking over her shoulder.

"This is my kinda night," he said with a wink at them. "Have your meditation, if that's what you kids call it these days. I'm going to enjoy the rain."

With another loud belly laugh, he slung his light saber over his shoulder and strode out, tilting his face up to the pure water that greeted him.

Sakura made a strangled, scoffing, fed-up noise in her throat, and Itachi lost his struggle to hide his amusement.

"He's so… ugh," she said, throwing her hands out.

"Hn," agreed Itachi.

"You can change into the spare clothes in your quarters," said Sakura as they passed a corridor with several doors on it. She gestured to the door on her left.

"My quarters?"

Sakura paused, pressing her lips together as she looked at him over her shoulder. She shrugged.

"We thought you should know you're always welcome to join us, when you're, you know, free. We always make sure our ship has a room and clothes for you."

The warmth of her Force blanketing him, her genuine care for him, made his heart swell in his chest and Itachi found he couldn't speak, could only listen, rapt, as she babbled on as he firmly reminded himself, no, Jedi do not form bonds.

Jedi do not form bonds.

"...Anyway, you'll be more comfortable in dry clothes. I'll be in the common room when you're ready."

He nodded at her and entered 'his' room.

Closing the door behind him, he stepped through and ran his hand through the air before the drawer built into the panel wall slid open, recognizing his Force signature.

And there, as he turned to look at the bunk already made with fresh linens, he saw the comm-block on the bedside tablette.

Her comm-block.

He shouldn't.

He stepped closer, swallowing.

He shouldn't.

He ran a finger down the side of the comm-block, tracing its smooth and scarred edges.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned it on.

He knelt across from her on a blanket on the floor of the common room. It was cozy and cramped and his knees touched hers.

She did not startle; rather, she relaxed further, her eyes remaining closed, her hands resting on her knees.

I comfort her, Itachi realized.

Around him her Force-blanket continued to buffet him, soothing his emotions.

Once he was in her sights, she seemed to have trouble controlling its reaction to him. It was more and more challenging for her, recently. The feel of it against him, though, was one he could not deny.

"Took you long enough," she teased, her voice soft and calm.

"Ah," he said, settling into his own meditation. His heart, however, lay deeply conflicted with his mind. There was an imbalance within him when it came to Sakura.

There was a way to remove it.

"You should not leave things lying around," he advised, breathing in and out slowly as he reached for his focus.

"It is important to share with others who have… less… than we do," she replied.

Itachi, his eyes not entirely closed, looked at Sakura from between his long, inky lashes.

"Some prefer less," he said.

Sakura made a derisive noise in her throat.

"Some don't know that they don't know enough to choose," she said.

Then, after a breath in, a breath out, she added, "It's yours."

More conflicted than before, Itachi knew what he had to do.

With a small flex of his own Force in Sakura's direction, he opened his eyes to watch her reaction.

To his surprise, her Force immediately tangled with his, drawing it closer to her. It should have rebuffed hers, forcing her away.

His eyes widened as he watched her lips open on a small smile.

For the second time that evening, his breath caught in his throat.

"Sakura," he said quietly, unsettled. "You can't."

"Can't what?" she asked, calm and happy, and completely oblivious.

"You can't," he insisted.

Then he withdrew his Force, let it evaporate from between them, leaving the room bereft of his signature.

Her blanket around him seized him in reaction, grabbing him and reassuring her that he was still there. That he was still safe.

"You can't," he repeated, reluctantly disentangling himself from her signature.

It was then that Sakura's brows knit and lifted, that her mouth sagged… that her eyes opened and met his.

He shook his head once.

She pressed her lips together, swallowing.

His fingers pressed down sharply on his knees where he rested them and he prayed she didn't look down and notice them.

"I can't help it," she whispered, confused, hurt. "I don't… I don't mean to, Master Itachi."

And he knew she didn't, not entirely. Her Force reacted to his presence. It always had.

Even when she'd been a young child, stowing away on their ship.

But someday, someone else would notice. Someone who wouldn't ignore it and what it might mean, someone who wouldn't trust him, someone who would use it against him.

Or against her.

He couldn't stomach the possibilities of what would happen then. It was why he had distanced himself from her, temporarily. As her mentor, he could only be away from her for so long before another asked if she was truly his Padawan.

And he wouldn't risk anyone casting aspersions upon her, or her abilities, because of rumours, assumptions or gossip.

Because Jedi do not form bonds, he reminded himself.

"Sakura," he said, gentling his voice as she struggled to reel in her Force to calm it, even as it clung to him like a space-cast traveller would cling to their final ration-pack of oxygen.

"I'm trying," she said.

And the frustrating thing was, he knew she was.

He could see her hands clenching and unclenching on her knees, her forehead wrinkling with effort, the tiny beads of sweat forming on her brow. And all the while her control ebbed and flowed, pushed and pulled, coaxed and dragged, as she tried to withdraw it from around him.

"It's like pulling myself apart," she mumbled, strained.

But she had to do this, if they were to train together again.

But how to teach her?

Looking around the room for inspiration, he noticed his reflection in the mirrored surface of the polished aluminium cabinets.

It gave him an idea.

He lifted his hands from his knees, then stretched them palms facing out in front of him in the air.

Curious and cautious, Sakura relaxed her own fingers from where she'd been bruising her knees, and lifted her hands up to match his, close, but not touching.

"Bring it back, and catch it in your hands. I'll stay right here," he said.

Sakura watched him, her eyes flicking down to his hands and back to his face again, nodding.

"Breathe in," he instructed, doing the same.

Following his lead, Sakura's eyelids closed as she relaxed.

"Breathe out," he instructed, and she did.

"Breathe in," he repeated, and this time she drew her blanket of Force back with her. He refused to react as it gently released him from its grasp, as he noted the honest chill in the room's temperature as he suddenly felt alone. Separated from her.

"Breathe out."

And then he felt it, just the warmth of it, from her palms less than a centimeter from his, their poses mirroring each other as they sat in their meditative positions on the floor of the common room.

Her expression was incredulous and excited while he struggled not to show his loss.

"It worked!" she said, smiling at him in wonder.

"Hn," he agreed, shoring up the buffer he needed to maintain around his emotions when he was with her.

"So I just need to keep you close to get it to behave," she said with a grin.

"Hn," he disagreed, giving her a mildly exasperated, if fond, look.

Sakura laughed.

"Worth a shot," she said, shaking her head.

She sobered and Itachi lowered his hands. She did the same. They were quiet a moment before Sakura asked,

"Why are you staying away?"

He would not lie to her.

So he did not speak.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

He exhaled and shook his head.

"No."

"Then… why? Will you come back? You're my Master," she said, voice breaking. "I'm your Padawan… aren't I?"

"You must control yourself, always," he said, already missing the comfort of her presence around him.

As if he'd summoned it himself, he felt it snaking around his wrists and arms, and pulling him closer to her.

He glared at her.

"Sakura!"

"It was an accident. I'm trying!"

Putting one hand out before him again, Itachi watched as Sakura wiped at her cheek and stuck her hand out to meet his, her other hand pressing at her heart through her vest.

At the second gesture, Itachi's brow furrowed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Pushing it back in," she grit out, breathing harder.

"Pushing what back in?"

"My heart!"

Confused, Itachi watched her more closely and saw that as her control wavered, she pressed harder on her heart.

"It hurts?" he asked.

In his mind, he considered her reaction. His curiosity kindled.

"Yes, it hurts you—ngh!" she clenched her teeth, her hand twisting in the thin material of her vest.

Reacting to his concern that he was injuring her, Itachi's Force rushed out of him to aid her, unbidden and ignoring his efforts to restrain it.

—and then their hands met, palm to palm.

Then his fingers wrapped around hers.

… and remained that way.

After a minute or so, Sakura's shaking hands relaxed in his as he leaned forward. Meanwhile Itachi's Force wrapped around her as hers had once more surrounded him and their foreheads touched as Sakura panted in relief. Their eyes closed.

Hers, in relief.

His, in confusion.

Yet he felt like he'd finally come home in a more intimate way than he'd ever imagined.

Had he let their mutual use of the Force mingle like this before?

Sakura slumped forward a bit more, her back relaxing as she basked in the comfort of him. Against his will he set more of himself free to cocoon around her and protect her. It made him… pleased. Happy.

Itachi swallowed when he felt her sweet breath on his face.

Was this how she had felt?

This pull?

His eyes remained closed, his expression pained.

Yes, he felt it in his heart, too, now. He felt much in his heart in that moment. Far, far too much. For the first time in a long time he felt anticipation akin to anxiety; thoughts racing, heart pounding, palms reaching—

"Sakura," he breathed, his voice lower than he intended.

When had he tangled his fingers in her hair?

And then she was tilting her head, just enough, and whether conscious or unconscious, he was responding, closing the gap, their breath mixing together as he turned his head towards hers, their lips—

"We can't."

He almost didn't hear her voice, it was softer than the flutter of a bird's wing.

Itachi's heart still pounded wildly however, and something primal deep inside strained against a leash he never realized he had, struggling for control.

And yet he now found Sakura in his arms, her one hand clasped in his, her other gripping his robes.

"We can't," Sakura repeated, heartbroken, "M-Master Itachi."

It was like she dumped ice water down his back, using his title.

Their reality, their circumstances, their positions all rushed back to him in a torrent of rules, expectations and authority.

What… what had he done?

"We can't," he agreed, voice gentle and firm as they held each other's gaze a moment longer.

No, we shouldn't, a part of him argued. Nothing says we can't.

And in that moment, he truly, deeply, primaly wanted to.

Her eyes were full of want and apology. He imagined his own were doubly so, for he'd had no intention of stopping. Hadn't even considered it.

If she hadn't spoken, would he have surrendered himself to such feelings? Forsaken his teachings and oath? An entire lifetime dedicated to training?

The arguments flitted through his mind as they stared into each other's eyes. Yet they remained immovable another minute. Two.

Yes, he knew in that moment. Yes, he would have. In a heartbeat.

He, Uchiha Itachi, would have abandoned everything he'd ever strived for and believed in if it meant he could have tasted Sakura's lips, felt their texture against his, felt the softness of her skin press into him. Felt her hands in his hair and her eyes on him, gasping his name. Her soft smile only for him. Her infinite support and attention and lov—

How far would he have gone? How much would he have pushed? He honestly didn't know. But now that he knew what it felt like to savour their Force bonds mingling together, he craved it like he'd craved nothing else in his life. The shared joy, satisfaction, temptation clawed at him still for what little he'd tasted, and around the pair of them the Force tangled further, still attempting to draw them together.

He didn't want to fight it, if he was honest with himself.

But then he held back, swallowing, realizing what that meant.

Yes, he would have thrown his every teacher's lessons back in their face for another shared, intimate moment with Sakura.

And in doing so he would have ruined everything for her.

His fingers stroked her soft hair, unable to stop himself. Soon. He'd be giving her up soon. It was obvious to him now that being near her risked too much. He would speak to Kisame. Arrangements would have to be made. To protect her, most of all.

"You need to learn control," he told her, his voice husky.

The minute the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake.

She blinked slowly.

"With all due respect, Master Itachi," Sakura said. "I did."

She looked down at his lips before up at his eyes, then sat back, pulling free of his hands.

"Thank you for your help this evening," she said. "I'm going to see if the storm has cleared."

She drew away from him, bowed in respect, and disappeared down the corridor.

Her Force blanket disappeared with her.

His solace disappeared with her.

"You can't," he repeated to himself, closing his eyes. He failed to notice how his right hand had moved to rub at his chest, over his heart.

AN: Many thanks to tumblr user njstumblah for all her suggestions and headcanons for this AU-verse series!