A/n- Another story I probably won't finish. Potential SasuNaru, but only if I finish the idea. :-)
Extended Summary: He's been locked up for, how long has it been now? The scars on his body tell him nothing, and for a hallusinating second, he thinks he might see an escape. He always sees escapes, but this time, he sees something else; something more. This is:
The End
.o.
It's a simple thought, standing at the elegant oak gates to the village, which seemed a little less tall and a little less grand the older he got, that maybe, this time, he might not make it. He shakes his sodden gold head, his body in rough spasms that dirty the ground about him with blood, and presses a hand firmly against the ancient wood which creaks ominously under his palm.
This is the end.
There's a green eyed girl crying over an empty hospital bed so early in the morning, because now she's lost both her boys, and her hurt is twofold. Somewhere in the back of her head a mantra is beating in time to her descending tears.
Shinobi law Shinobi law Shinobi law Don't cry don't cry don't cry…But tonight, she can't bring herself to care.
In the mud on the ground, there's a broken headband, the black of the dirt seeping into its woven blue fabric and slashed metal center. There's a story behind it, and it's built on years of indescribable pain and loss, so there's something righteously off about the deep stains on its dulling surface. The raven teen won't look at it, because to acknowledge its existence without its vibrant owner means one of two things.
And neither prospect is without death.
---
It's shortly after Sasuke's betrayal (not for the first time, he reminds himself unpleasantly, sneering at his feebleness for not having dragged the bastard back already), and Naruto is vaguely aware that he's still bleeding. The prick had gone and punched another hole in him, and he is even without Kyuubi's aid to heal himself, since Sasuke's managed to block that as well.
The five pronged seal aches distantly across his navel just enough that Naruto knows he's drunk.
He's drunk, bleeding to death, and couldn't give a shit about any of it.
Somewhere, distantly, he hears someone, probably Sakura, and she's crying. Not for him, never for him, but because Sasuke isn't home yet, and she's still alone. (But you still have me Sakura-chan.) Only arms are tugging at his, and he realizes he's sitting in the mud, and hell, he's even swiped Jiraiya's flask of sake. Smart kid, he compliments himself, and he's not so sure if he's said it out loud, because Sakura's looking at him funny, and accuses him of being drunk.
Why, yes, he is. Very. Royally smashed, he'd say.
Naruto shoves away from her groggily, swatting about in the girl's general direction in case his push wasn't enough, and sways as he stands up to stagger over to the nearest food stand. There's not many places open this late –early?- in the day, but the lamps flash invitingly at him, and the blonde picks out the most familiar of the booths. He sits heavily on the stool, almost falling off, but someone's pushing him back on. He waves the person away, and Kakashi stares down at him in a mixture of pity and understanding. Damn Kakashi, always trying to understand, and not understanding what needed to be understood.
"Jus'… just keep em' comin…g t' me, kay, old man?" Naruto manages to slur out to the ramen owner and his daughter, whose face is a multi-hue of pity he just doesn't want to see, and tonight, he's not looking for ramen. Everyone's looking at him strangely, theycanallgotohell, but their faces are spinning in his vision, and aw shit, there's blood all over the shiny polished table.
Old man Ichiraku is shaking his head while Sakura is trying to get close enough to fix the gaping hole in his chest. "Son," he says sadly, firmly, "I think you've had enough to drink for one night. Why don't you go home, and get yourself some sleep?"
In answer, Naruto vomits all over his shiny clean counter.
It feels like the whole town has come to laugh at him, because here comes Iruka, and he doesn't look too happy. Naruto wishes the chuunin would yell at him, because he knows he's done something wrong, and even if he can't piece out right now what it is, a verbal fight is just what Naruto's itching for.
It's maybe the only thing he'd be good at now.
It hurts somewhere inside his chest (to the left, on the side that Sakura is subtly throwing miniature balls of chakra at, because this is where his heart is beating frantically under the torn skin) to cause Iruka this much pain, because the chuunin is just too nice to be worrying like this, but Naruto doesn't know how to stop. He smiles lazily at the man, slurping at his flask before someone removes it from his hand. He's not even aware of its absence.
"Naruto, why don't you spend the night at my place?" Iruka offers quietly, not even trying to fake a smile like he might have some years before.
Maybe he knows it won't work.
But Naruto is already shaking his head, because he knows the man will try to get him to talk about it, and even though in the end he'll feel a hell of a lot better, talking is not something he plans to do. He shakes his head again, just in case they didn't see the first time.
He's pathetic, he knows, and Sasuke would say the exact same thing.
"Dammit!" Fists slam on the table and Naruto somehow registers in his mind through the sharp jolt of impact that they're his, so he's lurching to his feet, and the world won't stop spinning. The teen wants desperately to choke out all his feelings, be done with it, but he's not quiet sure what he's feeling right now, except sick. He stumbles in circles, looking for a way out, and finally spots the wobbling gates that must be the largest physical exit he could leave through.
"Naruto, look at me." The calming voice behind him belongs to Kakashi, and there's the faint slip of cloth rubbing together. But Naruto won't look, because he knows his sensei's sharingan is waiting to capture him. It's not that he doesn't want to fall into it, leave this night behind and work things out logically in the morning, but he has no desire for that red, red stare, piercing through him and holding him.
Not twice in one night.
Terrified, he lopes off towards the gates.
"Just let him go," Kakashi is telling Sakura, and Naruto imagines his hand is resting on her shoulder, just the way it had the first time.
The night guards don't stop him, and Genma shakes his head sympathetically from his post.
Naruto isn't sure how far he's gotten from the village before he finally passes out, blood slipping slick between cold fingers, and drying under his nails.
Through the haze in his mind and the aches in his body, he hears someone laughing, and, it's not kind at all, he thinks fuzzily. Something's picking him up, and he wishes they would be more gentle with his body. Some part of him can't bring itself to care, but that part of him is laced with liquor, so he does the logical thing, and listens to it.
Reviews are to StillForgotten what...umm... Batteries are to cows. (You can't eat them, but they give you one hell of a jolt)