The only light in the room came from candles and lanterns, positioned around the bed, on tables, on vacated shelves and stands, creating the scene of a haphazardly prepared ritual or rite. Funeral rite, he though to himself as he stepped into the radius of the light, slow and solemn. The thought didn't do anything to him. No, of course not, it wasn't true, wasn't... just a hypothetical, fleeting fantasy, conjured up by a wandering mind trying to focus on something other than the contents of the bed. He corrected himself at the last thought, after a moment. Person. He knew that. He knew it. Nodding his head, over and over. He stopped abruptly when he realized his motions, back going rigid, hands turning to fists. The flame from some of the candles flickered, and his shadow responded as if pulled on strings, panning around his feet before being flung back into sharp relief against the cool, pale floor. No running for either of us it would seem. He mused silently, as always. Silence suited him best. Speech was a gift he was intelligent enough to use, and wise enough to refrain from using unless necessary. Or so he always told himself.
Unlike some. He looked at the bed and remained motionless. There was no place to sit except for a chair at the end of the room, and the floor...Why did they move him here? It was a room fit for reading or quiet conversation, a space devoted entirely to the consumption of time. His mouth drew back. He controlled the motion, still again. Maybe that's why. It's just a matter of time now, time to rest, time to recover, time to...He placed one foot towards the bed, tentatively, like a small child. Father had been sick once, sick in his bed for days and days, and...he...him...Sasuke's teeth ground against each other, had told him that father would like to see his second son, but the first had come, now it was just a show. Another step, larger, and Sasuke had to look down to see the head resting on the pillow, face placid, eyes shut. He exhaled. Resting. The light flickered again, tentative in its subsistence. A nervous energy. He was sweating, but not from the heat, and he wasn't the one wrapped in wool and cut by steel. Damn. Damn it.
"Do I really look that bad, or did they just tell you I'd break if you did anything except stand there and stare at me?"
He saw blue. Blue against black and gold and red. Red. Slow rise of anger and strength. Scent of blood and metal. Hands wrapped around a throat. Pressure.
"Too stunned to talk, huh? 'S alright. I have that effect on people." He smiled. Not a grin, but it stretched his features into such a familiar expression that Sasuke's shoulders settled, his hands uncurled, as though heat had been applied to his body.
"Hm. No."
"Talkative as ever." He raised his head, eyes narrowing in pain momentarily, just so he could catch a look at the end of the room. "You look awkward standing like that. Have a seat in that chair. It's comfortable. I promise." Another familiar smile. "It might even help loosen up whatever's been stuck up your ass."
Now Sasuke couldn't control himself. His eyes narrowed, lips thinning. Stuck up my...I could tell you what's been festering since I was old enough to know what the desire to kill felt like. And his hands had wrapped around that man's throat. Anonymous. Faceless. Frantic then slowing. Stagnation in a bog. Sasuke. Sasuke stop. You're going to...
He forced himself to look down. His shoulders relaxed again. He took a diplomatic route.
"I'm actually more concerned about what was shoved through your midsection." His voice sounded hoarse from lack of use. He cleared his throat once, twice, looking down expectantly.
The smile faltered but didn't vanish. "Oh. That." The words came like an afterthought, a recollection of a childish accident that might have ended in a bleeding finger or a bruised shin.
"Yes. That." He doesn't care. Or he wants to spare me the burden of pretending to care? He doesn't think I'm capable. The damned flames might as well have been responding to his mood. His face must have looked hard and sharp in that light. A statue carved in a moment of controlled rage. If such a thing existed.
He heard a sigh. A smirk. "Don't worry. I heal quick. It'll take more than surprise to kill me. Come on. Have a seat. There's a chair back there."
"I prefer to stand."
"What if I said I don't give a damn what you prefer?"
"I'd say there was nothing new in that."
Back to the smile. And the sweat. "Well, if you don't want the chair, you can sit on the bed. There's plenty of room."
Sasuke closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Better to say only what's required. "Fine."
He brought the chair in front of the bed.
"You're such a stubborn bastard."
"And you're a loud-mouthed idiot with no sense of mortality."
"Oho, is Sasuke worried about me now?" He was rewarded with a grin now. A flash of white. He grinned when others, when Sasuke kept composure, needing neither pretense or encouragement. "I think you are." He was close to chanting his assertion.
Sasuke sighed. "Why did they move you here? You should still be in the medical ward, with a wound like that."
He waved his hand. "Nah, it's been a few days. Besides, I heal quick, in case you haven't noticed from before." A pause. "The healer in village is good anyway."
The healer. The physician. A man Sasuke should have respected. A grievous wound. Almost fatal. It would have been for someone who wasn't in such peak condition. Blood loss. Internal damage. It will be close. Difficult. He'd spoken with the cool detachment of someone who was used to seeing death protracted beyond its usual sharp brevity on the field of battle. It became a different battle at that point, all the frenzy and chaos of battle slowing, pain setting wounds to flame, the lose of blood turning to crippling weakness. The same skills were required. A deft, quick hand. A sure mind. And he should have been respected for that. The foundation of practicing with precision was the ability to let yourself be goaded by emotion just far enough to illicit passion, and then work, accepting the possibility of retreat and concession and reorganization, accepting that it would be conducted without remorse or distraction. Difficult. Just another case to him, unusual maybe, but nothing that would make him care any more or less. Neutrality. Grey. Neither one extreme or the other. Rage. He'd felt it, towards the man. Again like when...The pulse slowly left, died beneath his hands. A chocked gasp. Sasuke! Sasuke! What have you...Now what would happen when he was faced with the possibility of leaving to pursue his own ambitions? What kind of unexpected reaction would grip him?
"Sakura visited you yesterday?" Always loyal, wasn't she?
"Yeah. She was here...there, in the medical ward, until they forced her to leave." He hesitated, as though becoming a third party to residual pain. "She was incoherent when they brought me in. They dragged her away until she could...think, I guess."
Sasuke knew the gaze was on him. And the question? There was that too, wasn't there? And you, Sasuke? What did you do? Blood blood, so much. Dark and wet and red and it was mine, no his, and the other one's, it was on my hands but I didn't care.
"I...stayed for...I stayed to make sure that you weren't...I stayed to make sure you were being taken care of properly." Oh and I'd know about that, wouldn't I?
"I wouldn't doubt it. There are advantages to specializing in the rectal transport of rods." The laughter was in his throat, ready to rise loudly and without poise. Easy and free. A grin made vocal.
Sasuke placed his chin on interwoven hands, elbows planted firmly on his legs.
"Did she talk to you much?"
"Oh yeah, she talked. And talked. I think she wanted to make sure I wasn't going to evaporate the moment she turned her back. She should have known better. Can't get rid of me that easily."
No. No you can't. And that's... He couldn't find the words.
"She was worried about you, Sasuke."
He breathed out. Finally it came to a point.
"She's always worried about me. She likes me, apparently."
He took the distraction as a unprecedented occurrence. "Is that you trying to make a joke?" The grin. That damn grin again.
"Hm." He unfolded his hands and let them hang at his sides. The smile relaxed him, the grin made him restless.
"But Sasuke..." He hesitated.
"What? What did Sakura say?" A low, stream of words. A strong whisper.
The silence. Pulsing light. Running wax. A flicker of a shadow stabbed by the roving illumination of the lantern. His forehead rested against a closed hand, fists meeting. Now a slow spread of words.
"She said the man who wounded me was singled out. Both of you saw him and ran after him."
His fists tightened. Air rushed by. Cold. Wet. Buffeting against his face and body. A pain slowly being numbed. Trees were just smudges against the blue background. Heat ahead. He could sense it, low then high. Never steady. A pause. Ragged breath. Pain receding, flowing out of a shallow vessel, seeping into the ground. Quick motion. A cut across his arm. Warmth. Blood, slowly seeping. The heat came closer. Spinning steel. Spray of blood. Fire. The stench of it. Burning flesh. The two imprinted on his mind as an indelible mark. A hesitation. A rush, a growl, low. Feral. His hands. White and stiff. Tightening, slowly curling into claws. And Sasuke! Sasuke! Ragged breath. What have you done? Sasuke. He's...
One candle extinguished itself in a rapid hiss. Half the stump still remained. Sasuke stood straight, almost knocking the chair to the floor, walking to where thin delicate laces of smoke rose from the charred wick.
"Sasuke..." His voice came calmly. He knew. He wanted a reaction. He knew.
He took the burnt stick that rested amongst the candles, holding it delicately between thumb and forefinger, capturing small amount of flame from one candle with its tip. The offspring flickered, rising and dying in the same breath, springing back into existence at the last moment. Made sure. He'd had to be dragged off, leaving red marks in the bruised skin. Red. He'd steeled himself against the power of that color.
"Sasuke..." Again. He was saying it again.
The flame touched the twisted ruin, igniting it again. It was small and pale, growing slowly. Burnt wax. Rising smoke. He breathed deeply, resisting the urge to cough and spit. I did it out off...I don't have the words. To myself. No words. Without thought. Without plan or contingency or recourse. Because of...the blood, the blood. I saw the blood I lost control. I proved I could do it, but I lost control, and I don't have control against him I'd die, die before he did but I'm detached in that mission, like the healer. I despise the healer. I despise...
"Sasuke, please." There was no grin in that voice.
Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke. What have you done? What have you become? Have you lost your strength? Are you just the outline of a husk, have you lost the only thing that ever filled you? Is something else slowly seeping in as well? He closed his eyes as he turned towards the chair, creating only slits to guide himself back towards his seat.
"Will you at least look at me?"
His face and eyes moved by some compulsion. He stared at him, the occupant of the bed. Person. Naruto. He nearly spoke the last word aloud, the slow, hard syllables brushing his lips as they tried to form. It's an interesting concept, being considered a person, not an occupant or an afterthought, a spare, a poor copy. In his case, a shadow of a shadow. Hm. That would mean he didn't even have his own shadow; it would have just been swallowed by his brother's, like he was anyway. Perfect. Everything fit together so nicely.
He stared and saw blue for the first time since Naruto opened his eyes. Blue. The sky, which he almost never bothered to stare at, and his clothes. He didn't see the color anywhere else. Never such a shade of it. What some might call unique.
"I know," was all he said. His voice wasn't soft or low. He stated a fact, neither condoning nor condemning.
Sasuke said nothing. I know that. I know. I've been planning to kill for years. You know that too.
Now an expulsion of breath. He looked older. He was older. Whether by time or by the slow erosion of deliberate violence, he'd matured, losing some of his previous levity to the wayside. Tears didn't come as easily or as freely, but when they did, it meant that some part of him was undergoing a wrenching, upheaval, mutating into something perhaps unrecognizable. Undesirable. Sasuke looked on and took in the six scars, three on either side, which at times were faint lines from some old and fading ritual, and at others burned and tore his flesh with the energy of an implacable primal force. A terrible symmetry.
He'd propped himself up, moving slowly in concession to the pain. No he never conceded to that. He moved out of respect for their efforts. First he rolled himself over, placing his weight on an uninjured arm, evening the distribution with the opposite hand. He paused, briefly considering his next motion.
Sasuke stared in wonder until the stop in motion, leaning forward but being stopped by the raise of Naruto's hand and a shake of his head.
He returned to the original position, curling his legs towards his torso, stopping when he reached the limit of his current flexibility, which restricted him to a bare fetal position. He dragged himself towards the foot of the bed, giving himself ample room to push himself up, placing one hand against the headboard for support. The contraction and relaxation of his muscles lent a kind of grace to the otherwise abrupt motions, his whole body lean and easily able to compensate for the deficiencies imposed by his injury.
Sasuke looked away abruptly. "I shouldn't be watching. I'm sorry."
The motion stopped. "Why?"
Why, why, are you that dense? That base? "Because you're injured. Because you can't move normally."
"And you think I'm ashamed by that?" The laughter touched his voice again, the grin appearing in Sasuke's mind. "I know my limits. I know when I should push myself and when I shouldn't. There's no shame. Not in that."
He turned his head back, and Naruto had managed to sit up, his legs tucked as close to his body as he felt was apparently prudent. He could have risen faster. He might have exacerbated his injury, slowed the healing process, but it wasn't for himself. That grin. That was his. It was the group's. It represented the infrastructure of their team, and Naruto was its architect and its caretaker. He bore the brunt of the pain, the frustration; it rolled off of him in sweat and blood and tears. Seeping into the ground. If he faltered, he knew that the rest of them would feel the inevitable reverberations of that uncertainty, reeling from the epicenter of an earthquake. There was no shame unless he allowed it.
Naruto steadied his breath, closing his eyes as if in concentration.
"Don't close your eyes," Sasuke muttered.
"Hm?" And they were open.
"Your eyes. Don't close them. They're something I can focus on. They're...interesting." Another lack of words when words are needed. Am I slowly becoming useless even in that?
A smile. "Sasuke." And Sasuke held his eyes. "I...don't know if it'll mean much, but I know what it's like to lose your sense of restraint. I think it's worse for you, but I do know what it's like."
No, no. Not the same. Not. You have an excuse, a recourse of justification. I...the blood. That set it off, me off. Red. Metallic tinge, so much blood. A gasp. A look of shock, a...
"Dobe." The word came blunt and hoarse.
Naruto's face went blank, eyebrows raised.
"Dobe." This time lower, almost unintelligible, ground out from his throat only by anger. He moved forward, standing, then kneeling to level with Naruto. He saw blue. His hands reached out, hesitant, quick and then slow. He touched Naruto's neck. The warmth. Then his fingers moved slowly up, feeling the curve, like a blind man, his thumb running in a slow line along the three faded scars. Once, twice, as though looking for signs of their fiery incarnations, his other hand raking through matted hair.
He saw the smile and slowly withdrew his hand, lowering it to rest against the sheets. "I'm sorry, but...I don't know. I don't. Know." Hoarse and dead.
The warmth pressed against his face, his lips. His throat clenched, his hand curled, his body tensed as if in reaction to injury. Then his muscles unfurled, his shoulders dropping, his neck inclining. He let the warmth spread into his mouth, across his hands. He took breath through his nose and pressed down with his lips, earning a sound, from himself or Naruto. He didn't know. He only pulled away when the rest of his body started to react, gently detaching himself from the man on the bed.
Gold against blue. "Was it shameful or difficult?" The words vibrated against his body. A smile. Maybe a grin. A grin.
He breathed. He sighed. He grasped. For a moment, for many, he felt warm.