tie me up and hold me down
Sakura is brought back to the Akatsuki lair. Ten truths on the bonds that make and break and save. –SasuSaku
1.
He is not there when they bring her.
But he hears the others talking, boasting, about the hellcat of a kunochi they managed to bring back from Kohona. They say she is a wild thing, all fire and anger and raw determination, swinging fists and impossible strength; that she was near-impossible to capture, so it is no wonder she is a pride of the now-decimated village and will know plenty of useful secets, once she can be convinced to spill all she knows.
They say she has pink hair.
Sasuke tells himself that it pure incredulity – there can be no way it is her, can there? – that leads his footsteps down, down, to where the make-shift cells are set up. The ever-heavier thud of his heart disagrees.
2.
In his memories, Sakura is a princess.
Tiny and helpless, all wide crying eyes and high, breathy giggles ready to turn into screeching wails. She is a pretender, a falsity, a little girl playing dress up in the skin of a kunochi. Even in her strongest moments, with pink hair scattering to the wind and a defiant, furious scowl – even then she is a damsel the knights let play hero, for just a tiny second. She is a nag on Sasuke's conscious, because he must always look out for her, he must always protect her form all the things she is so very vulnerable to. And she is annoying, bothersome, because in he does not like remembering how much he cared.
The Sakura that stands, chained and beaten, glaring at him from between heavy iron bars, is not who memories dictate she should be.
She is human.
Not a thing of silk-spun memories and fairy tales, not a porcelain doll with flower-petal hair and spring-green eyes. She is sinew and sweat, bloody knuckles and tear-streaked cheeks; heart and veins and spine and skin and skull and living, breathing vitality. He can read a story in the lines of her body, map a punch and a slash wound and a whipping, read a refusal to divulge information and the punishment that followed. She stands there, on legs scratched and bruised, chest out proud, shoulders thrown and fists clenched tight where they are tied above her head, eyes narrowed and furious, and he thinks – before anything else – that she is more than the Sakura he left behind.
3.
"I won't tell you anything," she hisses, and it is not a voice Sasuke has ever heard before. "I don't care what you do to me."
Maybe she cannot recognize him in the dim light. There is no way that Sakura – Sakura, of love declarations and constant adoration, of small presents and unfailing smiles – could ever talk to him, Sasuke, like that. Not in that tone, that scathing whisper that is little more than a growl, so full of loathing and anger that a part of him cannot honestly believe it comes from Sakura, and not with those words, as though she, who always trusted him, who always looked to him for safety, thinks he has come to harm her.
"And I don't care that it's you, Sasuke."
She does know, then, and somehow that knowledge runs sharp claws down the inside of Sasuke's belly.
4.
Two days go by, and Sasuke manages to pretend that she isn't there, down in the dark, and she isn't tied up and down, and she isn't being tortured for information he cannot imagine her giving. He manages pretty well, all those years of denial and single-mindedness coming in handy for once.
Until he hears the scream.
He is eating in his room when it rushes up the hallway and explodes through the thin walls with such force and volume that his fingers twitch around his chopsticks; it is the closest he's come to jumping in years. The sound is unmistakable – it starts high, breaks somewhere in the middle, and then is back in a garbled string of what could be sobs, or curses, or just stiletto-fired shouts.
He doesn't know.
Silence comes after a short eternity, and when Sasuke tries to resume his meal, he finds the chopsticks are quivering in his hands.
5.
Usually, he dreams in shades of red and black. He dreams of wild midnight shadows with long, reaching claws and glinting metallic weapons. Sometimes the monsters have faces with wide black eyes and shirts emblazoned with familiar crests, and he remembers them in an old, vague way. And other times, there is a monster that is bigger than the rest, that has red blood dripping among the black and eyes that glow like hate; that has Sasuke's face.
This is what Sasuke dreams of, and has dreamed of for so long that is feels like forever.
Tonight is different. With Sakura's scream still ringing in his ears, he falls asleep and into a world bathed in green light streaming through the trees. He hears laughter from somewhere above and a flash of orange darts among the green, too fast to truly see. Then there is a voice from somewhere behind him, and he knows that it is her; that when he turns around she will be there, and she will be smiling, and she will be the girl she was so long ago. He turns, eager for reasons that don't matter in this dreamland, and he sees – he sees Sakura. The world fades into black and red, fades into something familiar, and Sakura is still standing there, still broken and bruised, still bleeding with both arms impossibly bent. And then the shadows twist up behind her, take form and shape, and Sasuke watches as his own face smirks to the sound of Sakura's sudden scream.
For the first time since childhood, Sasuke wakes up with a jolt, body soaked in cold sweat.
6.
"Nothing," Konan says, voice calm and low, but deadly nonetheless. Everyone in the room looks up except Sasuke, who does not want to see what weapons or devices the Akatsuki female might be holding.
"Uchiha," says she says then, and Sasuke grunt his acknowledgement, eyes still down, face still carefully uninterested. "She is from your village. She is friend of that Nine-Tails brat. Do you know her?"
No one knows he has seen her. No one knows that long ago, she was one-third of his world. Sasuke finally raises his gaze, careful to only look at the pale, pretty face, meet her eyes, and lie: "I don't know."
"Maybe you do. Maybe you should try asking her," suggests a voice from off to the side, and from the intonation, from the entire situation, Sasuke knows that 'asking' is not meant to involve words. It is very hard, far harder than is reasonable, to keep his expression steady. Sasuke shrugs.
"Yes," Konan looks carefully at Sasuke, and for a brief second, he is certain she knows of the building desperation clawing at his mind. "Do it."
7.
He goes to her in the middle of the night.
Weariness weakens the body and the mind; there is a slight chance it will loosen Sakura's tongue.
He hears her steady breathing as he stalks silently through the long, blackened corridor. But when his foot kicks a small, loose stone, that clatters softly as he skids, it changes and he knows that she has awakened. Sure enough, when he reaches the cell, lit by a single hanging light, s single green eye is staring at him.
He has prepared himself for this. He is ready for her physical form; for the way her body hangs, at once loosed from exhaustion and tight with fear, marred by blood and bruises. One eye is swollen shut, and her mouth is a rusty smear of half-dried blood. He is ready for the sight, even if something, someone, someone three years younger, who knows this girl, who protects this girl, sends wails of pure anger to echo in his skull.
What Sasuke is not prepared for is the sudden horror laced terror that enters Sakura as he gaze falls on his drawn sword. What he is not ready to face is the way she shakes in her chains, the way she tries to flinch away, to disappear into the wall behind her. Her head shakes, back and forth, fast and jerky, and she rises to the tips of her toes.
"Sasuke," she whispers in a raw, breathy voice that has screamed to often and trembles uncontrollably, "Sasuke. Sasuke. No. Please. Don't." Her fingers, all crooked and sticking out at odd angled, claw through the air in desperation, and he can see the hysteria, the fear, the cracks in her composure that she has kept so long, through so much, begin to show. Because of him.
And suddenly, Sasuke wonders what is wrong with him.
Once, he would have died for this woman, tied up and beaten right before his eyes. Once, he defined himself by her: He was Sasuke, teammate and Naruto, protector of Sakura. Once, those who caused her pain had to face his wrath. Once, she smiled when she saw him, smiled and knew she was safe, so long as he was there.
He wonders what that Sasuke would think of him know.
He wonders what anyone with anything, anything at all, in that space where their heart should be, would think of him now.
His sword clatters to the ground, and Sasuke is certain beyond any doubt that he hates himself.
8.
"You have to tell them," he says, stepping over his fallen weapon and through the barred door. "You have to tell them, or they will kill you."
"I can't," Sakura says, tears falling down her mottled cheeks. "Sasuke, I can't."
"Did you hear me, you foolish girl?" Sasuke finds himself reverting, speaking to her as he did so long ago. "They will kill you."
"They want to know about Naruto. They want to kill him. I – I won't let them. I won't. I'd rather die."
"Then you will die." He does not let his desperation, his fear, show.
Sakura looks at him, with that one green eye still spilling tears, and shrugs. "I'd rather die than loose another teammate."
For a second, Sasuke thinks she means him, and the thought is accompanied by a sting somewhere near his heart. Then she continues: "They killed Kakashi-sensei, you know." The tears come faster, and her throat works frantically, as if trying to swallow something huge and bitter. "They killed him and they destroyed Kohona and I won't let them have Naruto. I won't. I won't."
Her head drops down and slowly, she starts to sob.
In Sasuke's mind, Kakashi smiles and runs an undignified hand through his hair. Kakashi is teacher and mentor and almost-father. Kakashi is strong and smart and quick and a good ninja, a great ninja, too good to be dead by such scum, and too constant to be gone forever. On the edge of his conscious, Sasuke feels hysteria push, a frantic denial that borders on crushing pain. Eyes wide and staring at the matted pink hair of Sakura's head, he consciously reminds himself that he would have killed his own sensei, given the chance. He would have killed them all, cut them down like so many trees, let their blood stain his sword and heart without a single moment's hesitation. The thought helps press back the storm only until he recognizes the absolute lie. His sword, after all, lies abandoned on the ground behind him. And the thought of doing anything, anything at all, to harm or hurt or scare Sakura is seeming more and more revolting, more and more impossible. He has always cared too much.
He steps forward, close to Sakura, close enough to reach out and touch Sakura, if he could find it in himself to do so. The hate he has held onto for so long is shredding inside him, disappearing and reforming into the heavy weight of responsibility, so when Sakura looks up, finally, he tells her: "I'll be back."
9.
"We're leaving. Tonight."
His team looks up at him.
"We're are taking the prisoner. And we'll have to run."
There is a quick exchange of glances among the three, a lightening-quick discussion and decision made with nothing but looks and expressions. They all understand what Sasuke does not say: We are kidnapping their prisoner and we are leaving the Akatsuki.
"Why?" asks Karin.
Why indeed. Because I want to. Because I know I should. Because if I don't, I don't know who I am anymore, only that it is not someone I ever wanted to be. Because she was mine, once upon a time, and I was hers and I cannot, for the life of me, let that go. Because I need to.
"Just do as I say."
They nod.
10.
There are only a few new bruises when he arrives in her cell the second time, and both her eyes are open. They follow him as he unlocks the door and slides in, as quick and silent as a shadow. They widen when they see his sword, and the muscles in her arms jump as it swing through the air in a wide, quick arch.
Once free, she holds the wall for support. As Sasuke reaches to undo the chakra drainers, she watches him with an expression that is almost suspicious and almost fearful. But when he steps away and she tries to follow, the effort getting her no more than a few inches before her knees collapse and she starts to tumble, and he reaches out to catch her, hands wrapping clear around her upper arms, the expression crumbles.
There are tears streaking down her hollow, shadowed cheeks. "Why are you doing this? Why – why… When did you start to care again, Sasuke?"
He looks at her, at those wetly shining, brilliantly green eyes. Those eyes always got to him, always shocked in with the emotion they contained, the sincerity in their depths. It's hard to lie when trapped in such a gaze.
"I don't think I ever stopped," he says softly, mind focused on how close she is, how easy it would be to reach out and brush away the tear-tracks that run down her face. "I tried, but I don't think I ever could."
For the first time in years, Sakura smiles – really, truly, brilliantly smiles – at Sasuke.
endnote: A few things: 1) Takes place right after the Pein/Naruto battle. 2) Sakura is a bad-ass and obviously would be so if tortured for information. In number 3 she is still recently captured, thus this shows through, even in Sasuke's presence. By number 7, however, she's been put through the wringer and, as a human, is understandably in a less stable, weaker state. Thus, she is terrified at the thought of Sasuke, who was her friend and teammate and crush and who she loved, has come to hurt her. 3) Sasuke, throughout the fic, is in the same unstable, emotionally turbulent state that he has been portrayed in in the manga since Itachi's death. As such, I imagine he would be a bit delicate, a bit sensitive, and a bit less of a ice-cube when faced with a Sakura in such blatant distress. And, finally 4) I really don't think Sasuke is heartless, and I really don't think he could participate in or even live with the knowledge that Sakura was being tortured. I know that he has shown a willingness to kill her at points in the manga, but there is a difference between a second of murder in the heat of battle and a prolonged period of intentional infliction of pain for cruelties sake. And, if it really comes down to it, I don't think he could kill her or Naruto anyway.
So there.