Am I the one to blame for your dreams?

Do you ever wake at night and scream?
Call out my name, pretend he's me

Whoa oh, pretend for me.

"I Ruin Dreams Not Nightmares"

-Watchout! There's Ghosts

The moment he sensed the swords against his torso, it was over: he knew where they were aimed. Though he couldn't feel the blades as they slid into his body, he could hear them. They made an odd squeaking sound as they sliced through wood and metal, and, if he hadn't trained himself long ago to be immune to those particular feelings, he figured he might have found it mentally disturbing.

It was another thing entirely when the swords bit into his heart.

It was odd, feeling pain again. Sasori couldn't remember the last he had felt pain so... he found that he didn't know the right word. He had heard humans describe pain in more ways than he could count, and so he borrowed the one he had heard most often: intense.

He didn't much care for it. His whole body was unfeeling, save for that one spot in his chest. It annoyed him, that one area of... intense feeling.

"You lowered your guard at the last moment... Sasori..." Chiyo's voice drew him back from his thoughts. He only half-heard the rest of what she said - a new kind of pain was distracting him. It was his heart, only in a much more... metaphoric manner.

He ignored it.

He was pulled from his thoughts again when the pink-haired girl slumped to the ground. He watched dispassionately as Chiyo tried to save her. He knew it was useless; she was beyond help. She would die along with him, leaving only Chiyo. He found it fitting.

"Impossible," Sasori felt a prickle as he realized he might be gloating, "I hit a vital point. Even without the poison, she's going to die." He was stating the obvious, but then again, wasn't that what gloating was? He wondered idly if he was acting so oddly because he was so close to death or because of a separate reason entirely -

He stayed his wonderings there, focusing instead on Chiyo, as she said, "This is not medical ninjutsu..."

He listened as she explained. It disgusted him, that she would believe he would want to have life given back to him. When he had turned himself into a puppet, he had known what he was giving up, and he had never once regretted it.

His metaphorical heart betrayed him, however. Though it had been as diligently hardened as the rest of him, he knew it had attained one soft spot. Even as he told his murderers differently, he knew it wasn't true.

Since he had turned himself into a puppet all those years ago, he had felt nothing but contempt for his grandmother and humans in general, and even that feeling had died to nothing somewhere along the way. It remained that way, even as he felt death claiming him. But that one soft spot was very quickly growing.

It was growing for only one person, and even as he tried to stop it - or at the least, ignore it, - he couldn't.

He couldn't stop thinking of the obnoxious, bold, ignorant man that he had had the misfortune of being partnered with.

Sasori had never liked the missing rock nin, and had never failed to communicate that in their exchanges.

There hadn't been many, as their conversations had been mostly limited to mission strategy, planning, and brief, one-sided attempts at small talk on Deidara's part.

The partners' frequent spats about their different views on art had been their only real communication, as far as personal conversations went.

At first, Sasori had simply stated his opinion and ended the conversation, but recently, he had participated more, letting the argument drag on.

In retrospect, he figured that was where the softening had begun.

His growing tolerance of the persistent man had seemed to elate him to no end.

It was then that Sasori had started catching Deidara looking at him. It was only seemed to happen when Deidara thought he wasn't looking, and, if Sasori returned the stare, it would only result in a quick look-away, and sometimes even a blush.

At the time, Sasori hadn't paid any attention to the instances, but now, he realized the implications. And he almost found himself wishing he had returned the feelings.

There was nothing for it now, but still, Sasori almost wished - for the first time - that he wasn't dying.

But he was dying, and indeed, he could feel himself starting to slip away. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, and he didn't try to fight it. What he did try to fight, however, was the regret he felt. He regretted leaving Deidara behind; he regretted not acknowledging his feelings. Most of all, he regretted that he was only realizing these things now, when it was too late.

So, though his last words went to his grandmother and the pink-haired girl, his last thoughts went to Deidara.