Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Naruto or any of its affiliations…I am merely borrowing its characters and settings to indulge my own fantasies and then share said fantasies with other people who equally do not own Naruto. I am not making any profit off this.

Author's note: First off, thank you! Thank you everyone for your support. (I need it) Secondly, as a warning, this story has the potential to be very uncomfortable for some. Lots of unhappy topics. Be mentally prepared.

o o o

Sakura couldn't keep her head from dropping to one shoulder or the other, couldn't keep her chin from hitting the stones behind her or dropping to her chest. What ailed her was an exhaustion she had never felt before in her life, making her body thick like sand in a canvas sack, her limbs magnetized to the floor on which she sat. She was wedged into the space between the bed and its side table, her back to the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. She settled herself leaning into the mattress and decided it would be easier to think if she didn't have to focus so much energy on posture.

The Akatsuki had taken her hostage with the intention to make her heal one of theirs.

It was a strange thing for her to accept. It felt separate from reality. She thought they must be lying to her.

What would they do next?

They needed something from her, but they couldn't torture her to gain compliance, as they might risk making her incapable of functioning. She had to be mentally and physically able in she were going to act medic.

Perhaps they would take the route of emotional manipulation. Threats of retaliation against loved ones was on the table, as well, but that was a distant, nebulous potentiality on which they could not immediately and obviously act.

Maybe they would physically torture her. Maybe they would start with her toes and take a little bit more each day she refused. Working up one leg to her knee and maybe higher. She didn't need both legs to do her work. They could take an ear, or both, her tongue and teeth.

Back in Konoha, during her training days, she had once treated a man who had been sliced across his chest in torture, both nipples cut right off. Another woman had suffered from clamps and screws set into her knees and elbows, wrists and ankles. Maybe Sakura would be burned by fire or acid. Or kept perpetually in a state of near complete energy deprivation. Just coherent enough to diagnose or heal with rudimentary methods. She wished she weren't a medic just then. The knowledge she had gave her too much insight of the body and her ideas for torture became more elaborate than her captors could probably ever conceive or dare to try.

Still – she was pretty much fucked. It would not be good if she didn't make a move, fast.

In her situation, there were certain courses of action that were likely to happen: Firstly, she could just do as they asked; there was the torture route, well explored already; there was a potential for rescue, but very unlikely; and there were two manners of escape, one in which she lived and the other in which she died by her own hand.

Well, not escape so much, but at least the Akatuki wouldn't get what they wanted from her.

For the moment, Sakura focused on thinking of a successful escape.

Things to consider: she was stuck in unfamiliar territory; she was without her team (two of whom were dead); she was without her tools; she was abysmally low on energy. But she had her clothes and her boots and those things were good. She had only minor injuries and she was mostly lucid. Also good.

As for the state of her captors, Sakura knew of at least two and that there was a chance of a third, though his condition was unknown. If Akatsuki had been desperate enough to kidnap her, of all people, to heal Uchiha Itachi, then it was possible he was in no state to fight. Not that she could count on that assumption, and so she gauged him at his fullest capacity in her equation for the sake of avoiding any mortal estimations.

Which meant, she thought as she ran her dried and cracked lip between her teeth, in order to escape (into unquantified territory. On her own. With no supplies) she had to get through three fully-fledged and able S-class nin – who were also some of her country's greatest enemies.

She needed to outmanoeuvre three men who all just happened to be geniuses in different fields of combat: Deidara, a strategic long-ranged fighter specialising in explosives, as she remembered from her mission to Suna, but who was also unquestionably accomplished in close-range fighting as well; Hoshigaki Kisame, an expert swordsman whose weapon could suck her chakra dry without even having to touch her; and Uchiha, of course, had acutely honed hand-to-hand skills, weapons skills, and prodigious strategic acuity, all on top of a bloodline limit that was powerful beyond comprehension.

Additionally, they each possessed greater speed, stamina, and raw power than most of the higher ranked operatives in her entire village.

Sakura had her clothes and her boots. And her comparatively feeble amount of chakra. But they wanted something from her. She had leverage, too. Akatsuki needed her medical skills. She might delay them torturing or killing her for a little while, get herself some opportunity to escape.

And in the mean time, she would... act friendly? And hope they didn't get bored of her or find someone else better suited for the job... But how long did she really have to wait, to sit idly on her hands with no direction of action?

She really – she really wasn't ready to die yet. Not here. Not like this. She couldn't die away from the battlefield, in the enemy's possession, alone. She could take her own life, save her village the trouble – and sure, cost them the investment they had put into her as a combat medic – but she could do the honourable thing and make sure she couldn't ever be used to advance the goals of Akatsuki by ending her life discreetly as a true operative would.

No one would ever know what had happened to her, they wouldn't know how she had acted for their interests, but she could always do that.

But she wasn't ready to give up. Maybe she was too immature, too hopeful, too scared, but she couldn't go without a fight.

One minor problem being she didn't know where to start in fighting Akatsuki. She needed to know how to move before she moved.

Sakura ripped off her leather gloves, tossing them aside spitefully, and lifted her hands to tug at her hair in frustration. It hurt to move, and she pulled the rough locks and scraped her fingers against her scalp and made herself hurt even more. She hoped the pain would trigger some brilliant plan.

Instead, she felt the material of her Konoha headband and her frantic movements stopped momentarily before she ran her hands up to the metal that rested on top of her head. Sakura thoughtfully traced its shape as she remembered the day she had earned the symbolic piece of armour and taken an oath to serve her village to the best of her abilities.

For a few minutes, lost in recollection, she was completely still but for her fingers deftly flitting over her greatest pride.

After a while, her hands lowered back to the top of her knees and her body felt lighter than it had since she had regained consciousness.

She wasn't sure whether to smile or to cringe, but her heart was beating with so much determination that she couldn't be sure it wasn't visibly shaking her ribcage.

Sakura had a plan.

o o o

Deidara stood in front of a mirror, eyes scrutinizing and hard, looking at the damage the kunoichi had done to his jaw. His other cheek, forehead, and nose – most of the good parts, thankfully – all remained unharmed.

Dejected, he poked at the reddened and swollen part of his face. Earlier he had managed to find ice from the freezer to keep the tissue from becoming too tender, but from what he could tell, there was definitely going to be bruising. Which wasn't so bad. He was used to such things. But this was his face that was jeopardized.

Plus, if it got any worse, he wouldn't be able to keep his scope on without chafing his skin. And that was never pleasant.

He clicked his tongue, grimaced. The girl was doing favours for Uchiha already and she didn't even know it.

He frowned as he replaced the piece of ice against his jaw, deciding that staring at his face wouldn't make the problem go away any faster. He didn't dwell on how much worse the damage could have been if he hadn't avoided her strike at the last second. The thought of losing a few teeth, let alone having his bones shattered, was enough to make him wince.

At the same time...it was sort of invigorating. Her technique was explosive, if somewhat differently from his own jutsu, but it was commendable. Cracking open the earth in one move and in the next pulverizing the bodies of people who by all means were physically stronger than her. Hundreds of thousands of microscopic explosions resulting from her skin just touching her opponent's.

That was really something to see.

And if the victim of one of her hits were a friend, after all the damage was dealt, then her chakra would come back to them. Only it would different – there to heal and patch up and cleanse.

It was always churning, her chakra, never static in state or purpose. He could appreciate that dynamism.

In fact, Deidara thought as he left the bathroom to the adjoining room, he really wouldn't mind being on the receiving end of her mystical palm jutsu. Maybe she'd look at him with those wide eyes and bite her lip as she worried over him.

Well…she probably wouldn't worry over him.

Shit, it was sort of unfair that he had been the one responsible for picking up Haruno Sakura; the time spent observing her, planning out how best to pluck her like a little leaf while none were the wiser, and all his efforts went to some other chump's benefit. The worst of all the chumps, actually. Why did Deidara have to be the one to see all that Haruno Sakura was – all the potential she had? – only then to leave her. Leave her to some fucking birdshit stain like Uchiha Itachi.

Fucking shame. Criminally boring. She had killed Sasori! She had left that chamber to dusty fragments, littered in felled masterpieces of the greatest ninja to come out of Wind, and now she was supposed to patch up some insipid, artistically benighted, genetic cheater like Uchiha?

Wasteful, really.

As soon as the other man was well enough, Sakura would be gone. She'd crumble, broken, and they would fumble with whatever scraps of her might survive.

Deidara wouldn't have much reason to see her again, let alone fight her.

Fuck, how he'd like to fight her.

But as soon as Uchiha got around to her, she would disappear for good.

Deidara's steps paused as he felt a detection seal go off. It was the one placed in the doorway of his quarters, where the girl was staying. She was awake, moving around, and she must have realized she'd set something off because her chakra flare immediately retreated back into the room. But this was something enough that deserved some chastisement nonetheless. He grinned, ice pack sliding out of his grip to land with an unheard clap on the stone floor.

Not bothering to retrieve his cloak (which he had tossed on his new bed hours ago in favour of getting a better look at his bruised and cut up arms from where he'd stopped Samehada) Deidara left his room still smiling.

His expression darkened as he passed Kisame in the cramped room that served as a common library and lounge area. Acting deeply affronted, he said, "let me take care of this, yeah."

"Gotta be pretty bored, kiddo," Kisame said, eyes curious and sharp, "jumping to your feet."

"Your 'old man' company somehow isn't doing it for me." So he was bored. Was there any fault in that?

He was young, he was without a fight, he wanted something.

"Hold up."

Deidara slowed to look over his shoulder to where Kisame sat reclined, feet up on another chair, at the card table.

Reaching to the ground next to him and out of Deidara's eyesight, he retrieved a metal bucket. He shook the thing as if to say, 'here, this.'

"What's that about?" Deidara asked, noting the smug look Kisame donned.

"Shit bucket," he replied, tossing it to Deidara.

Not at all wanting to touch something labelled as such, he leaned back an inch so the bucket passed him and clanged to the floor a pace away. Kisame gave him a bothered look.

"The fuck is that for? I don't need that!"

"It's clean, idiot." Patiently, with some tempered humour, "and it's for the little lady."

Deidara made a face. "Fuck that, yeah. She can just use the base facilities."

Kisame snorted and stood from his seat.

"What's so wrong with that, yeah?" He asked.

"Never been in charge of prisoners before, eh? They always get the drop on ya when you give 'em luxuries." Pushing passed Deidara to retrieve the bucket again, Kisame then pushed it into Deidara's chest. "I did do her the favour of having a second bucket. I am giving her that."

It was true. The two were stuck together in a stack. Deidara didn't quite follow the significance. "How... generous?"

"Years ago, when I was prisoner in Kiri, I got a shit bucket," Kisame volunteered. "Guards took it out for me when I'd used it. Real nice of them. Brought me back a water bucket right after."

And then, with a vicious sort of smile, he said, "fuck if wasn't the same damn bucket. Didn't bother with the courtesy of emptying it."

Deidara groaned and tried not to gag at the unfortunate image.

"She'll need to eat." Kisame said, taking to heart that Deidara knew nothing of managing a captive. "And she can't stay in your room for lodgings. She'll definitely kill you if you get close. If she's sick, she's faking. You stripped your bedding, right? No, for her...more than that; she shouldn't have furniture. Anything she can pick up, she will use it as a projectile or for bludgeoning."

Deidara's impulse was to be snide and dismissive, but the man had some fair points. He looked to the buckets in his hands and pulled an exaggerated frown. "Anything else, yeah, mister CO?"

Kisame had five more words of advice. "Don't. Get. Close. To. Her."

"Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time."

But where would the fun be in listening to that?

The room wasn't far from where Deidara had left the other Akatsuki member, so when he got to the kunoichi he made sure to shut the door behind him. It would do some good for their privacy.

Sakura had backed into the corner of the room adjacent to door on its handle side. She had her arms loose at her sides and her shoulders straight. She was standing, but otherwise looked the same as when he'd left her. Hair and clothes disheveled, bruises purple and brown on her skin, only little scabs red and fresh left from gashes of her last skirmish. Her eyes were bright and her face void of emotion – at least until she noticed what he was carrying and made a curious face.

"What's that?" She asked.

Deidara – who had forgotten all about Kisame's damned buckets – almost lost his cool demeanour. A beat passed and he tossed the things over his shoulder as if they weren't worth mentioning. They were never there! They banged loudly into a wall and rattled as they came to rest on the floor. He kept his face very even in expression and mentally dared her to say something. "I don't have – It's nothing, yeah."

"...Okay," she offered after a moment.

"So, you've accepted the proposition?" Deidara asked, quick to move the subject forward. "Or are you using this chance to measure up your obstacles to ditching this joint."

At least she wasn't brandishing a desk leg or something like Kisame had suggested.

She rolled her eyes and a sigh left her, easing her stance. Not answering his questions, she said, "I'm really just thinking about how hungry I am, actually. If you expect me to do any healing, then I'll need food, water, adequate rest. You know, maybe less physical violence."

She went on to say something else, but Deidara had stopped paying attention. He was watching the way her fingers dug into her arms, tensing and relaxing in a cyclic pattern as if she were constantly having to remind herself why not to just up and deck him in the face again. She was trying too hard to keep her composure and it showed. The muscles in her arms tensed, her feet shifted, her fingers twitched. Her body was anticipating a fight even as her voice and countenance placidly tried to deny as much. Maybe it was a new tactic of hers? He raised an eyebrow as he wondered over her motivations and, seeing this, Sakura trailed off halfway through her sentence.

"What? What is it? I'm not being unreasonable." She retreated further into her corner, becoming a bit defensive. He followed the retreat without thinking. She watched his feet and his eyes, back and forth between the two as he took his steps. "Nutrition is important for people like us who are always using so much of our chakra."

Deidara perked up, still carefully moving closer. "People like us, yeah. That's funny you'd say it like that."

She waved her fingers impatiently. "Well, it's true. I'm sorry, but we're in the same profession. I hope you're not going to try and say otherwise."

"No, that's not it." He didn't move again, he'd be within her striking distance if he did. "It's a method, yeah, linking us together. You're getting my sympathy with that. Trying to, at least."

"Believe me, I'm not excited about grouping us together." She lifted a shoulder. "And I don't care a damn bit for your sympathy. Just want something to eat."

"Before you heal Uchiha."

She hedged her response. "Also not excited at that prospect."

Deidara 'hmmed,' understanding her reservations. He would prefer the man to drop dead. Or, well, he might really prefer to kill the man himself. Either option would suffice. At least she was beginning to appreciate the situation she was in, was a bit more reasonable after her stunt earlier. He said, "fine. I'll get you something to eat. Get you a shower or something, too."

The offer caught her by surprise and she, out of habit probably, slipped out a 'thank you.' It sounded sincere, too. As he turned to leave, her expression was more open and optimistic. He also caught in his peripheral her dominate hand shifting behind her back.

His reaction was one born from many repeated scenarios. She had gone to reach for a weapon and Deidara immediately snapped to her spot in the corner to stop her. He grabbed the reaching arm, swept a leg out from under her, and slammed her body to the ground. He followed her there, using his weight on her back to incapacitate her facedown on the floor.

Under him, she was cussing and writhing in pain. She seemed to have figured out the cause for his response. "I don't have anything on me, you ass! You took all my weapons, remember?"

Ah. So she was unarmed.

He could let her go... but then... they were already pretty much fighting, so he could also just let that happen as well. From his position, he had all the control and so he shifted his weight ever so slightly to give her an out. Obligingly, she seized it and wriggled one arm free to jab two fingers into his hip.

For normal people it would be a pointless endeavour, but from her the hit stung like a hot iron rod smashing into the joint.

"Fuck," it hurt. Deidara sank to his right side, to the hip that wasn't throbbing like teeth shattering together, and he lost his hold on her. He pushed himself away to lean against the end of the bed frame.

She was laughing. It was short and forgotten in a second, but she had let out a victorious, smug bite of amusement at his folly. But she was winded and her movements were tar slow with exhaustion as she dragged herself into a seat with her legs under her knees.

Deidara hissed and rubbed at the offended leg as he eyed her righting herself. "Shit... Was that necessary, yeah?"

"You gave me the opening."

"That hit had chakra in it. Should've saved that last bit of energy for a more mortal injury."

She was panting, shaking, and it looked like she was fighting to keep her eyes open.

"I was aiming to hit hard enough to shatter your bones and rupture your femoral artery," she told him. "Like an internal severing."

"Pleasant, yeah."

"I think it's justified."

"Ehn. I think all you managed was to dislocate my hip." He smiled, one-sided and sly. Sweeping a hand over his hips. "Come over here and check it for me?"

Her answer was a very put-upon roll of her eyes. "Oh joy, you're the first to ever ask me for that."

"You're obviously not in the proper shape to fight anymore, yeah. Might as well pass the time more amicably."

"Or, counterpoint –" She punched him.

The force behind it was mediocre, but the aim was perfect and it landed on the same spot she'd kneed him in the face previously. Another wave of pain through his head and shaking down his teeth. It wasn't enough to deter him, but it wasn't all she had to offer.

She had leaped for him to make the punch land, and she followed through with using her entire body weight to get him to the ground, returning the hold he'd used earlier. On top of him, straddling his middle, and he was left to gaze up at her. A petite stature and her current lack of stamina made the whole effort seem trivial to him, and he caught her wrists before she could wrap her hands around his neck. She could return a boulder to rubble and yet she couldn't break his grip. As he laid out beneath her, staring up at her, holding her there, Deidara found he didn't have anything to say.

"See, us like this? This is alright." Well, except for that.

"Quit it. Stop doing that," she said. Sakura had all the chance she needed to crack his hyoid bone, let him suffocate, send a chakra scalpel up his nose, snip into his brain – whatever she wanted. But she was wincing and considering him with hesitation.

He waited. He wondered if she liked this new arrangement for them. He was't minding so much.

Was she bored like him, too? Always wanting for more.

She asked, dismayed, "are you not fighting back because I'm too beneath you to even merit the effort?"

It was another revelation of her background and insecurities. She couldn't shake it. After everything, all she had done and all he had done to get her and only her...

"I'm half interested in fighting," Deidara told her. "And if anyone's beneath anyone, I'll call attention to our current position. I'm not opposed, yeah."

"Ugh." A flustered breath followed and then, "you're acting like we're not even enemies! You killed the Kazekage."

Deidara pointed out that he'd lived, eventually. As well, "our intelligence says that guy tried to kill you first."

She was unconvinced.

"And not to be one to point fingers here, yeah, but you killed my partner-slash-mentor. You don't see me holding any grudges for it."

"You've taken me prisoner."

"You say 'prisoner,' I say we're recruiting you... With some teeny-tiny, extra encouragement."

She bounced her eyebrows in a perplexed fashion, not at all impressed. Her body was otherwise motionless save for the rise and fall of her chest and the jumping pulse on her neck. He watched her as she studied his face. She said, "idiot. I really am going to end you."

Her quiet assuredness in the declaration made his blood hot in that nice sort of way. Hell, if that were the case, he'd love to have a no-holds-barred battle with her one on one. Outside this damned little room, in the open air, explosions taking them each to ruin. He would stifle that little flame of oxygen she carried and make her dance – but it would be such a rush. He wanted to fight her, be up against her. Move with her.

"Promises, yeah," he returned, just as softly and confidently.

She was sat on his middle, her knees tight to his sides, and he felt her squeeze him and then relax her hold. He had her hands between them and the tension in her resistance there lessened, too. Her eyes were on his bruised jaw, his nose, his mouth, thoughtful and unhurried.

He thought they moved together when her arms dropped to ground on either side of his neck. She was leaning over him, weight dropping to her forearms and his hands had found their way to the curve below her waist. But he was thinking about her lips just then and she was closer still.

Rolling his hips was in part to alleviate the strain on his newly received injury and, perhaps a little bit more, to relieve other tension he had. She moved with him and his eyes slipped closed as he shared the whisper from her lips.

And then she smacked her forehead into his and there was a crack as his skull met stone.

o o o

Reclining on a half broken sofa, idly searching the twelve-country inclusive bingo-book for a good time, Kisame frowned when he felt the energy in the base shift. It was sudden and discomforting enough to get his attention. Deidara's shielded chakra signature was still in the room with the medic-nin, but the oscillating spikes and dips so often associated with it settled into a relaxed state rather abruptly.

Kisame looked up from the profile of a one-armed, bisento-wielding kuniochi to stare at the bookcase in front of him. Eyes unseeing, he focused on the room a few walls beyond, trying to feel out what was going on.

Was that shrimp unconscious?

He hadn't been surprised to find Deidara with the medic-nin early in the morning, but Kisame had been a bit wary of the interest he seemed to have with her. She was young and pretty and strong, but she was just a kid. There was no reason for Deidara to be harassing her. She needed to be sane enough to heal Itachi, and having the attentions of a sadistic rogue-bomber focused on her would most likely only result in upsetting her mental state.

If she could not focus on healing Itachi, then Kisame would have to kill her. Meaning that more time would be wasted on finding another, equally qualified and equally obtainable medic-nin. And his partner could not afford that time; his condition was bad and getting worse.

Deidara, who had been coerced into the organisation in the first place, held no loyalties to Itachi, and therefore couldn't be bothered to restrain himself when it came to meddling with something that caught his attention.

In that way, Deidara was still sort of a kid himself, too.

No. Worse. Deidara and the medic-nin were teenagers. Young, fumbling adults with too many hormones and way too much access to destructive weapons and overpowered techniques.

Yep, definitely an unconscious kid, Kisame confirmed.

He sat up, strapped Samehada to his back, and set off to find out what had happened. The chakra signature of the girl was still in the room, feeble and fluttering.

Kisame turned down a hallway and came to a stop at the closed door of their captive's room. Deidara's quarters, usually.

Opening the door, he frowned and wished for the good old days, when he had been the young and stupid one in his group and he had never had to worry about walking in on such scenes.

In front of him, the medic was on top of Deidara, looking guilty, and the former was slack in his spot laid out on the floor.

"He dead?" Kisame asked.

"Uh..." She looked from him back to her hands wrapped around Deidara's red throat, the skin pale from the pressure under her fingertips. Setting back to it, "give me one sec – "

Taking the sword from his back, Kisame tsked. "Tried to warn him. Kid's too blind. Must be that damn scope he's always got on. Messing with his perception."

The medic was low and placed in an inconvenient spot with the door and the bed. He wanted one clean strike and it was an awkward swing to make, what with constrictions from the dimensions of the room and his weapon alike, but not impossible. The ideal arc was just – like – so –

He didn't miss. He never missed. The sword went exactly where he wanted it to go. He just didn't hit his target.

She had dodged like she knew how he was going to attack. No, it was almost like she had planned for his movements, had put them into place before he had even been in the room. With the way he had swung his his sword, right handed, as usual, he had crossed his body, pivoted on his foot and exposed his flank.

His exposed flank was precisely where the medic put herself, her hands glowing and reaching for his spine.

Kisame dropped his sword, clamped her against his side until a rib or two of hers snapped, and then grabbed her by the back of her neck to yank her up and away. He caught one of her hands with his, but the split-second decision welcomed the chakra scalpel in her free hand to his bicep. The medic started to choke and gag and fuss in his hold and the scalpel she had formed struggled to pierce his skin or to sink very far into his flesh. He smirked.

"You'll find I'm a little more durable than most," he said.

Her legs spasmed and he hoped she would black out soon enough. She kicked out, pushed into his chest, used her hands to scrape and beat on his forearm, trying to tear into the muscles there. It was a little pathetic.

It was when one of her feet came to rest on the wall behind him that he thought she was going to calm down and accept the inevitable, but her other leg was tucked to her chest between them, her foot tapping its way up his torso. Which was strange, because from this distance and position, she would never have the force behind a kick to do very much damage –

– unless she could also somehow release destructive chakra from her feet, too.

From her foot to his sternum, now directly under her toes...

He swore just as the wind was knocked from him.

The effect was instantaneously; his grip faltered, his stance weakened, his vision blurred and his face went hot. He couldn't breathe. He threw all his mass forward, trying to crush the medic in a tackle, but she crouched low to the ground, went under and behind him, and kicked one of his knees out, dropping him.

She hit him again and he could feel how it was her hands threaded together in a fist coming down to his spine. He grunted and she must have put chakra into the blow, trying to snap his back. His face hit the floor and his vision darkened.

He thought he heard the muted pattering of her feet as she fled the room.

Well, fuck. Kisame groaned. So the medic was a little less pathetic than he thought.

o o o

She built her strategy on all she had observed of Deidara and Kisame's behaviour in the few minutes they had interacted. She used the only environment she knew to her advantage. She acted how she needed them to see her – vulnerable, uncertain, weak. She took all the hits they sent her and she curled her fingers into fists.

Sakura was a kunoichi of the Village Hidden in the Leaves and she was going to escape Akatsuki.

Sakura's greatest weapon was her mind. Sure, being an apprentice to Tsunade had given her so much more than she – than anyone – ever thought her capable, but when it came down to the quick, if she didn't have her wits about her, she would just be a brute who could break trees in half.

Knowledge and the ability to efficiently put whatever facts she had to good use would be her route to survival.

She had cleared a few hallways so far, mentally mapping out her surroundings while taking in as much information about the environment as possible. The building she was in was made completely of stone and was lit by seals attached to the ceiling every few metres. From what she'd seen of the rooms so far, this was a sort of storage complex, housing archives and weapons, as well as rooms full of what looked like pilfered goods, and all of them were guarded by sensory seals like the one from her room.

By the thin slickness on the surface of the rocks, she figured that she was underground, and the damp chillness in the air backed up her deduction. Sakura had counted several air ducts on her way, though none large enough to fit through, but had yet to find any staircases. She figured the area was a basement level beneath a possible upper-level 'front' building. She kept one hand to the wall on her right, knowing that her 'centre,' consisting of the bedroom, was to her left. The schematics of the place weren't entirely clear to her yet, but logic told her that the wall further from the centre would likely be the outer one. So far all she really knew was that the building had an impossibly large number of chambers and seemingly no staff or occupants other than the two Akatsuki members she'd already felled. It didn't seem like her intended patient was anywhere around.

Sakura crept as quietly as she could for a long time. Everything looked the same. She turned another corner and entered a long stretch of hallway with doors lining each side, but at the end she could steps leading to a floor overhead. No mask or obfuscation, not even a door, just steps. Sakura's chest was lace light and she couldn't keep a smile from her lips. She felt it – the promise of freedom. Hope. Escape.

The fractures in her ribs seemed to dissipate, as did her near delirious state of lethargy. Sakura sprinted. She ran faster than she ever had. She hit the stairs and stumbled so that she had to climb the first few before she regained her momentum and took two, three steps at a time. She saw a door straight ahead. There was a draft of fresh, cool air. It tasted like rain crisp on her tongue, was sweetly sharp in her lungs.

The door burst open as she hit it, insubstantial and inconsequential as she staggered out into the open.

Everything was pitch black. Above her, around her, below her. The door was gone, the stairs were gone, and she stood on solid nothing. No air stirred as she spun in place, her adrenaline-mad heartbeat stormed in her chest and her mind went as empty as the space around her.

"No," she said. A chant, "no, no, no..."

Whatever was holding her upright fell out from under her and Sakura plummeted. Her tongue cut under her teeth, filled her mouth with copper warmth.

She gasped as she came back to her senses.

"Careful. You would not want to inhale that blood."

Sakura wasn't alone. She was back in a hallway of the Akatsuki base, her entire body trembling and begging for collapse, and stood in front of her, the image of leisurely control, was Uchiha Itachi.

He didn't react at all as she coughed red and spat at his feet. His appearance and proximity was much less tangible to her than his genjutsu had been. He was all wrong; facing her with coal dark eyes and without the signature Akatsuki cloak, he looked too normal. Too unassuming. And still Sakura couldn't get her body to move, couldn't feel anything beyond her uneven breathing and thudding heart. Her vision seemed to keel to one side and she realised her knees were giving.

"Will you lose consciousness as well?" Itachi asked her, though it sounded rhetorical.

Sakura couldn't answer anyway. She slowed her descent, barely, and managed not to violently meld her head with the stone flooring.

"Pity," he said, watching her fall. "Playing mother to the three of you is not how I would prefer to enjoy my evening."

She wasn't going to pass out, she refused to allow it.

Sakura had failed in her first gamble. Her cleverness had been shortsighted and her best chance for freedom was gone. She did't make it.

"I got two out of three," she said, breathless and satisfied. She smiled. At least that much of her flight had been real.

Next time she would do better.

o o o

Author's Note: My gad. Typos. I'm so srory.