"I still recall the taste of your tears.
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.
Scraping through my head 'till I don't want to sleep anymore."
You make this all go away, You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing, I'm starting to scare myself
You make this all go away, You make it all go away
I just want something, I just want something I can never have "
(Nine Inch Nails, Something I Can Never Have)
Sasuke knows that he is going to be closely monitored until the Council is sure about his loyalty –even after. Maybe forever –and that at the minimum insubordination he is going to be severely punished.
He knows well that he is not allowed to do solo missions but he doesn't care.
As he leaps from branch to branch his mind is only able to process the same questions, repeating them over and over.
Is Itachi really alive?
If he is why doesn't he come back to the village he protected so much?
If he is why doesn't he come back to the brother he sacrificed his life for?
As he leaps from branch to branch Sasuke is pulled by two opposite forces.
His mind, angered and confused by his absence, wants to know why he didn't come back for him.
His heart only wants to see him again, to hear the voice that resonates in his ears at night, when he wakes up abruptly after hearing his brother's calm, low tone as he calls his name.
Sasuke spots a secluded farm. And familiar chakra.
His brother's chakra.
His dead brother's chakra.
He can't fall for this hoax, he commands himself steadying his breath as he activates his sharingan.
He must think rationally.
There must be a logical explanation. When Zetsu and his clones transformed into someone else they also copied their chakra. Even if the human-plant hybrids are considered extinct it's obvious that they are not.
Hiding behind a tree he catches a glimpse of a tall, slender man, standing in the open, sunlight adding brownish, almost auburn shades to his dark, dark hair.
The first thing Sasuke remembers is a bundle of sensory impressions.
He just woke up; warmth encircles him; a soft voice is humming a melody; the sunlight shines through dark strands of hair, adding them a reddish undertone.
He doesn't think, he doesn't feel. He just lives in that moment, unaware of himself, unaware of everything but the one holding him, giving him support and safety.
That other being is not just home, for home would imply there's somewhere else outside.
Sasuke orbits around Itachi. He is Sasuke's whole universe.
Why are these memories coming back now? The boy mentally scolds his weakness.
Zetsu clones always surprise their opponent, tricking them into a false sense of familiarity, and Sasuke's naive falling for it puts his ability to shame and hurts his pride.
Itachi's body is one with the earth since a long time. His soul told him words of love before leaving him forever.
Sasuke came here to see this desecrating fraud with his own eyes -Itachi's eyes.
A silent prayer, for his brother to light up the way to the truth, flickers in his mind.
It's not him. It can't be him.
Can he?
Sasuke can only see the man's straight back –it was the same during their like childhood. It was the same during the fight against Kabuto –and his low ponytail.
His feet move on their own, stopping only when the man quickly turns around.
The same shinobi reflexes.
Moving, speaking, even breathing is impossible: everything freezes, even his heart, because his late brother is right there in front of him.
He looks pale, just like that time.
When he let Sasuke believe he had finally killed him, when he gave him the chance to return to Konoha as a hero, when he freed him from the curse mark, when he offered him his eyes and his life as a parting gift.
How could he not notice his brother was sick?
Sasuke had the same milky white skin as their mother, while his was honey colored like their father.
When he was in Konoha he was slightly tanned like their cousin Shisui, because of their training in the open.
Sasuke was jealous because he wasn't old and strong enough to join them, and the only thing he could do was retrieve their kunai or call them back when it was time to go home.
His brother's skin was fairer when Sasuke saw him at the inn.
He had been so close that the boy recalled every shade.
He looked healthy back then. And strong, and cold, and so unreachable.
Instead, in the Uchiha hideout Itachi was almost as pale as him.
It was obvious that he must have been in indescribable pain, coughing blood, not being able to dodge his modified shuriken, but Sasuke was so determined in making his longtime ambition come true that he kept carrying on each step of his plan, blind to each signal.
He was so focused on his future vision of avenging the past that he failed to see the present, thus missing the truth.
If only he had stopped for a moment…
Unlike his own, there is no sharingan blazing in this person's eyes.
Ever since he left, Sasuke had only seen Itachi's sharingan, so much that he almost forgot that his brother had black eyes, just like him.
The last time he saw them was the morning before the massacre, when the elder poked his forehead before going out.
Had Sasuke known what was about to happen, he would have hugged his brother tight, so tight, so incredibly tight. He would have never let him go.
Why is he sentimental again? He warns his inner self.
This man standing in front of him is not his brother.
His eye shape and color is the same as him, just like his long lashes and the tear troughs, but it's not him.
He is dressed like a civilian. His brown trousers are rolled up to his knee, his white tunic is a little too big for him. It can't be him.
It definitely can't be him: in his arms –the same arms that killed their parents to prevent a civil war and save him from certain death –he is holding a baby.
The man who looks like Itachi tilts his head on the side, taking in Sasuke's figure with an inquiring look, not unlike that one time before their fight, when he casually commented how he got taller.
Sasuke thought that his brother was making fun of their sibling relationship with that question.
How painful it must have been for him, pretending to not care about his precious little brother, hurting the one he had cradled when he was younger and smaller than this toddler...but Sasuke understood it too late.
Back then, black burning hate gnawed at his heart, its flames incinerating everything else, just like he wanted.
Just like he needed to defeat Itachi.
He almost made it, quickly filling the holes whenever a different, unwanted feeling –uncertainty, longing, love –threatened to come out.
He almost made it, but when he used all his techniques, when he was out of chakra and even Orochimaru's cursed power was gone, he succumbed to fear as the elder approached.
He didn't care about how he won, as long as Itachi was dead.
He didn't care about dying, as long as he accomplished his goal, but that wasn't going to happen because he was paralyzed against a wall and at the same time he was pinned against another wall, an arrogant kid who thought his newly learned chidori was enough to make him strong, and at the same time he was a child who twisted his ankle imitating his adored big brother who was coming towards him, only his look was scary and his voice was different, even his face was different, covered in blood as it was as he pronounced his last words. As he gave Sasuke his last gift.
The black flames of Amaterasu.
Right when the man is about to say something, a woman comes out of the house.
Her smile is warm, like their mother's. She takes hold of the small bundle before politely asking Sasuke is she can help him.
She is friendly and not afraid of a stranger entering her property. Probably because she knows the war is over.
Or because she has the strongest shinobi by her side.
What an inappropriate thought, that is not Itachi. That is not even a human.
Maybe she is a Zetsu too. Maybe the baby is one as well.
"You two really resemble each other…"
She muses out loud before asking Sasuke where he comes from, remarking that it's quite far. He must be tired and hungry, she adds, inviting him to come inside.
The man doesn't react when she brings up their resemblance, nor when she mentions Konoha.
When he finally speaks Sasuke is aghast.
The same deep voice he hears at night.
His brother's voice…but it can't be.
This man didn't react at his sight or at Konoha's mention, therefore he is not Itachi.
There are no burn scars at all on his arm. There aren't many able to heal such wounds so well.
Only Tsunade, Orochimaru and Kabuto could. As resourceful as they were not even Akatsuki members had that ability, unlike Zetsu, who could heal itself.
Besides, even though he looks calm and collected like his late brother, something about him is off.
Sasuke holds on to this thought. Until the man speaks.
"Do you know me?"
Such a simple yet difficult question is the answer Sasuke was looking for.
Except that Sasuke wasn't just looking for answers.
Sasuke was looking for his Itachi. Or for an impostor so he could destroy him, for no one desecrates his brother.
Sasuke was looking for something else –his love.
Something more –the hope of a life together.
Something he can't have.
That's why he hasn't come back to Konoha. That's why he hasn't come back to him.
That's why he looks off.
Itachi doesn't know his identity. He has forgotten his past.
He has forgotten the war he witnessed when he was just a child.
He has forgotten the endless training, the missions, the assassinations.
He has forgotten being a double agent and carrying the hate of both Konoha and the clan on his shoulders.
He has forgotten Shisui's suicide and the massacre, the Akatsuki and his illness.
He has forgotten the baby he cradled in his arms and their games in the woods.
He has forgotten the pokes and the stormy nights, sleeping in the same bed.
He has forgotten his brother's chidori piercing him, his katon burning him, his Kirin electrocuting him.
He has forgotten a life of sacrifice, only for his sake.
He has no idea of who Sasuke is.
Sasuke's mouth curls into a bitter smile.
Finally his brother got lucky: Juubi's chakra gave him a new life, destroying his past and freeing him from his younger brother, the heaviest burden.
The woman is saying something but Sasuke doesn't pay attention, too busy shutting his heart down as it threatens to break and spill out in liquid form.
Look at him; he is living in a peaceful country. He has a wife and a child. He is going to be a great father.
He has a new life: he doesn't need anything else.
He doesn't need you.
"Are you happy?" Sasuke asks him abruptly, ignoring his question, his tone slightly taller than normal.
In the past he would have given anything for his brother to look at him with the same interest he's showing now.
He never noticed that Itachi's gaze was always on him.
Anyone else would overreact. Not Uchiha Itachi of the Leaf, hero, shinobi, brother –not anymore –who simply tilts his head and squints slightly, as if he were trying to see beyond the surface, like he always did.
That was a personal question, meaning that they know each other, which is confirmed by the resemblance they share.
Itachi's onyx-black eyes, no longer glazed by blindness, are still penetrating as they study the young man with messy hair, slender frame and a look that is screaming his pain to him, and he feels he should understand but he doesn't and he feels guilty and confused and frustrated, and he thinks he should say something to voice this struggle but he just can't.
Maybe it's not in his nature to express his inner thoughts.
Sasuke's memory has stored everything about the brother he adored and chased through his whole life; he knows that under a gracefully concentrated look there is more. That for someone who knew so much, not knowing must be terrible.
Itachi spared Sasuke from the burden of knowing the hard truth. Now it's Sasuke's turn to keep his precious soul untainted.
"Your eyes. Why…"
The elder takes a step towards him.
His voice is too soft, too caring, like a perfect brother, and he can't be because he is not his brother anymore.
"…are you crying?"
Tears stubbornly refuse to fall –he's a shinobi, he can't cry –until the older man's words turn them into a too heavy burden to carry.
Itachi's hand instinctively reaches his face but stops midway, for the boy turns to the side, a clear sign that he doesn't want any physical contact.
Many, many times, when loneliness was too much to bear, Sasuke closed his eyes and caressed his face, imagining it was Itachi's hand, like he used to do when he was a child, but his touch was never as light as his brother's and his fingers were never as warm.
Outside their own inner worlds there is only the quiet symphony of the wind rustling through the grass and the trees.
And two hearts beating. One is fast and loud, the other muffled and irregular.
They stand still, facing each other, so close that they could touch, but they don't.
They can't.
He can't.
If he did he would never be able to let him go.
The baby's whimper breaks the silence. His mother cradles him, heading towards the house, and Sasuke's comes out of his bangs.
This baby is lucky to have Itachi as a father. He will feel safe under the spell of his humming voice, sleeping in his arms, clinging to his hand as he learns how to walk. Just like he has.
Unlike him though, he won't lose him.
Sasuke won't allow it.
"I…I wanted to see if it was true, if it was really you …"
He takes a deep breath.
This is the right thing.
Don't hesitate. Don't be selfish.
Be like him.
"This life…is good for you."
He manages not to stutter.
He can't. He must be perfect like Itachi.
"Farewell..."
Sasuke doesn't look behind as he disappears in the trees.
"…brother…"
Author's note: that was a ton of stream of consciousness. Sorry for those who like a linear writing. I find myself writing inner worlds more than the outer one. Must be because I live in my head so much that I like inner thoughts and feeling so much.
I'm the opposite of "show, don't tell", I guess...
This chapter is still inspired by Maco's doujinshi Kondo No Hikari and so will be the next one. Doujins are a different form of expression, just like drawing and visual arts, they express every emotion, feeling, motivation, with a facial expression or a gesture. Writing can do this or the opposite, expanding or dissecting a gesture and an expression, like I do. When I like something I want to know everything about it, same for characters and stories. I want to see/read a scene I loved from every point of vue and angle, analysing everything behind it, over and over.
This fic is going to be long and slow, more than What He Wanted, whose plot followed an opposite direction/vibe compared to this one.
If you are looking for something faster, hotter, less introspective...I'm sorry, it is not going to happen.