Please keep in mind that this IS the end of Thank You, but not the end of Her story, necessarily. After thinking about it for a while, and debating whether or not to post a second part, I decided to change my original plans for what Itachi said to her -- this is not the ending I had in mind when I orignally came up with the idea. If y'all ask, I will post the alternate ending as a seperate story (which, by the way, will only differ from this one by a few paragraphs at the end).

He tried to ignore the feeling of blood smearing up his face as he brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. It felt like tangible betrayal – the evidence of his treachery. The choice had ached in his gut and worn at his senses for so many days before he had chosen. His clan or his home: that was the choice that presented itself to him.

And he had chosen his home, the village he would leave behind to protect it, the village he would likely never see again. He knew that on his dying day he'd stare up at the sky – or would he be face down in the dirt, as several of his clan had been when he let them fall, lifeless, to the ground? – and regret that he had not died in Konoha. He knew he would die with his home thinking him a traitor, but somehow, it was worth it.

Was it? He wasn't really sure, but he had to tell himself it was, or he wouldn't have the guts to finish this.

He had kept track until he hit murder eighteen. He had remembered the looks on their faces and felt a wrench of guilt at their expressions, but only until the eighteenth had fallen. After that, he couldn't let himself remember them all. It was too much, and the guilt of his clan remaining faceless victims of his sword was less than knowing they had seen his face.

He took a shaky breath – so far, the other had been the one to kill the children, he had escaped that torture. He knew that every petrified child's face would remind him of his brother, remind him that soon, his brother would look at him with those same eyes, that same expression. That would be the hardest part – knowing his brother's blood stained his soul forever.

On silent feet, he landed before her. She was the first child he would kill that night, the first truly innocent person he would kill – somehow, he could tell himself that none of them were innocent, but the children… He couldn't convince himself they were guilty.

And so, when she looked at him with fear in her teary, coal-black eyes, he froze and stared.

She didn't move for several moments – spare the hysterical shaking and sobbing – but then she was shifting onto her knees, stumbling upright and standing unsteadily. She made a soft, pathetic sound, and brushed her medium-brown hair from her face with an ironic impatience.

He wondered, for just a moment, what he looked like to her – did she see a madman? A vicious killer with naught but malicious hate for his own family? Did she even see him at all, or was she blinded by her own fear? It would certainly explain the way she just looked at him, unmoving.

She was familiar and he tried to place her in his memory, though that was a difficult task when he was trying not to remember anything – it made things easier.

It came to him though, the familiar face, full, trembling lip and wide, coal-coloured eyes. Her name escaped him, but the blast of memories surrounding her broke his trance.

He could remember several things about her, but the way she had smiled at his brother and played in the snow with them both at Christmas – admittedly just one of many Uchiha children who had taken part in the Great Snowball War – stood out. She had caught him by surprise with a quick, hard snowball to the face, and giggled childishly when he chased her to exact his revenge.

Before he could let himself dwell on it, think about it any more, he flickered forwards, behind her in just milliseconds. He felt her tense unconsciously, and raised his sword once more, ready – no, no, he was never ready, he would never let himself be ready – to grant her quick passage to join her loved ones.

"Thank you."

He froze again, the words plucking some chord deep inside him, but then he moved before he could let his pacifistic side get the best of him again. His sword wasn't all that moved, his lips let fall the two words he had been aching to say every time.

"I'm sorry."

And then blood splattered against his face, and he caught her as she fell. She would face the sky in death, even if he might not have the same luxury.

Ick... this came out WAY too wordy... Sorry, please forgive me. Hope you enjoyed it, though.