Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto.

Rated M: Due to coarse language, violence, and some adult themes.


"Ugh, maybe I should just donate this to the Goodwill?"

As if they'd even take it…

Groaning with mild exaggeration, Sakura sets the small canvas against the edge of her coffee table, studious eyes scanning it critically for flaws. Paint layered too thickly in a few spots, sub-par blending, and – ugh! – indistinct edges that make everything look like big, obscure blobs.

And Bob Ross made it look so easy.

Pouting, Sakura kicks her foot out threateningly, hesitating just before impact and lowering her foot back to the carpet. Even though the final product is something she is sure a ten-year-old could have managed, it's still the evidence of a night well-spent with her friends after a week of constant paranoia.

Thankfully, the incident with Genma's failed brakes hadn't recurred, but that hasn't saved Sakura much peace of mind as she continues to answer the door each morning to her assigned police escort and make her way into work.

And work…

Someone has been sending her warning letters. Warning letters which she could almost detect the faint message of a threat concealed within the bland typeface printed on each thrice-folded sheet of paper.

'You are getting too close to something far outside your realm of concern. For your own good, you are asked to discontinue your search into the case regarding Shisui Uchiha's disappearance.'

Sakura, after getting over her initial case of the heebie-jeebies that someone was monitoring her private activities, had wanted to scoff at the anonymous letter's sender for using "disappearance" rather than "murder" or even "death."

Since that first letter she received the day after the car accident, two more had shown up, unobtrusively yet threateningly in her work mailbox, each a day apart.

After the appearance of the second one, Sakura knew it would be foolish to keep such a concern to herself. She had handed over the letters to Genma who had promptly rushed it to the top of the priority list for the police department's lab technicians. After the brake incident, Genma could only see in colors of justice and nothing would stop him from finding the perpetrator.

Yet, for all his determination and confidence, the analysis report yielded little in encouraging news. No fingerprints or DNA were detected, nor were the materials used to produce the notes particularly novel. Nothing could be used to trace them back to the sender. Even the security footage from the hospital cameras showed the everyday mail carrier (who had been thoroughly questioned) making his usual rounds to the employee mailboxes.

Neglecting such worrisome thoughts, Sakura rises tiredly to her feet, most of the buzz from tonight's earlier escapades having dulled her thoughts to sleepy contentment.

Ha! At least my painting isn't as bad as Ino's!

Snickering to herself, she tromps into the kitchen to reach for a wineglass from the cupboard and pours herself a generous dose of her favorite pink moscato. A blend of rich citrus and peach hits the back of her throat, leaving behind a savory sweet aftertaste. The wine and canvas event she had attended with Ino, Hinata, and Hanabi had offered bar services…not included in the original price. Sakura had begrudgingly bought a glass of wine after Ino's incessant badgering to loosen up and have a good time.

Carefully nursing her single glass throughout the guided painting session, Sakura watched as Ino delightedly ordered drink after drink, her painting progressively becoming the manifestation of her dwindling sobriety.

What an idiot.

Sakura smiles fondly at the recent memory. Luckily, the Hyuga sisters were notorious for abstaining from alcohol and were always reliable for being the designated drivers. Sakura can only shake her head at how perfectly their paintings had turned out – even better than the instructor's if she's being honest – making Sakura suspect the girls' well-to-do family had at some point pushed the two of them into taking private painting lessons.

Leaning her lower back against the lip of the kitchen sink, Sakura scowls at her painting through the kitchen doorway. Even from this distance she isn't happy with it.

Slipping her phone free from her pocket, Sakura checks the screen for any missed texts before setting her alarm for tomorrow morning –

To hell with it, I'm sleeping in tomorrow!

Promptly deleting her action, she downs the last of her moscato, flicks off the overhead light, and heads to her bedroom with the definitive plan to change into her pajamas and watch some mind-numbing reality television about one celebrity family or another before passing out.

Passing through the laughably short hallway of her apartment with its coat closet and equally closet-sized bathroom, Sakura's ears twitch at the nearly imperceptible thud of something in her bedroom. A thud similar to that of someone setting down something on her white, oak dresser. Both antique and an absolute monster to try and move, setting down anything from a hairbrush to a picture frame on its polished surface made a satisfying clunk. Immediately, all drowsiness is dashed from her system as her mind goes on high alert. Inhaling a silent breath, Sakura inches forward, berating herself for never getting around to purchasing that baseball bat she thought about stationing at her front door.

It's probably nothing…Maybe something fell? Maybe it was the asshole cat?

But the cynical though rational side of her argues she knows for a fact that she left nothing near the edges to fall off. And she doesn't have a cat.

Someone is in there, moving about, going through my things…I should call the police.

And for a moment, Sakura hesitates, believing she's learned from the mistakes of all those senseless teenagers in the trashy, B-rated movies Naruto likes to bring over. She wouldn't walk headfirst into a dangerous situation without any back-up or even a weapon. She'd turn around, maybe go to a neighbor's apartment, and call the cops from a safe place. She'd –

The sound of a drawer being closed causes angry fire to shoot up from her belly and engulf her cheeks with glowing red intensity.

Kill the son of a bitch!

No way was the prominent Dr. Haruno going to suffer the indignation of some lewd bandit pilfering through her unmentionables. She'd gut the fool and string him up by his own intestines.

With fingers falling away from her back pocket where her sensible phone is left rejected, Sakura silently stalks up to her bedroom door, pausing for a few short seconds with her ear pressed against the wood.

Not a peep greets her waiting ears, all she can hear is the steady (if somewhat elevated) pulse of her own heartbeat. A heady sensation fills her head, the edge of danger to the situation not quite piercing through the odd feeling.

Without any conscious thought to do so, she abruptly twists open the doorknob and leaps into the room, a fierce expression already in place to scare the crap out of the would-be panty raider.

But for all her bravery, an empty room is all she catapults herself into. Through the partially opened blinds, enough moonlight filters through to show her the bare patch of carpet in front of the dresser. Her bed is left in pristine condition with the red and white striped comforter pulled down tautly over the edges and decorative pillows stylishly arranged near the headboard. A rare occurrence for her part, but its undisturbed appearance is counter to her belief that someone has been trespassing in her room.

Walking to the window, she fully opens the blinds, peering out into the small parking lot provided for the tenants, but finds nothing visibly amiss. The latch locking her window is still snuggly in place as she left it.

Turning back to the dresser, Sakura's stiff shoulders collapse with an exhale of breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Crossing the short distance, she observes the collection of framed pictures whose smiling faces stare back at her, almost sinisterly in the weak light. Quickly, her attention focuses on the jewelry box, but nimble fingers are able to detect that her few meager pieces of fine jewelry can be accounted for. Kneeling down, she pulls open her two large dresser drawers one at a time. Socks, underwear, jeans, old T-shirts, hats, and random knickknacks all seem to be in order.

Mentally scratching her head, Sakura leans forward with her palms pressing into the edge of the dresser. Her downcast eyes rest on the photo of her and Sasuke taken on a field trip to the zoo back when they were only about six or seven years old.

The teacher had to have known I had a crush on him. That's why we were partnered together so often.

Agitatedly, she taps her thumbs against the edge of the dresser, her mind scrambling to come up with an answer as to what exactly she heard.

At the same instant her head swings up to meet her reflection in the vanity mirror hanging behind her dresser, a thought enters her head with chilling certainty.

The closet.

And less than a second after this conclusion registers, something, or rather two somethings, latch onto her hips and Sakura is left gaping at her own horrified face, with eyes widened so far some small part of her detachedly observes her irises are each enclosed by a ring of white sclera.

The start of a high-pitched scream is promptly cut off as something hard is clapped over her mouth and Sakura registers the sensation of a cool, smooth palm pressed against her lips.

Bite it.

But, as if a mind reader, the owner of the hand squeezes his fingers and thumb into either side of her face, the pressure allowing little movement of her jaws. In the mirror, she sees a single, pale forearm snaked across her lower stomach, anchoring her to the front of the burglar. In the shadows at her back and just above her right ear, she feels the calm, warm breath of her attacker and a shiver creeps down her neck at the closeness.

Her cry is muffled as the attacker swings her around, forcing her back onto the bed and, despite her best efforts, he manages to pin her wrists under his legs on either side of her tense form as his weight settles across her hips.

No, not this. Anything but this.

She always thought she'd have some way to fight back if she ever found herself in this kind of predicament. She'd kick and throw punch after punch. She'd scream like a banshee.

But when truly put in such a situation, she can do nothing. With her knees hanging right at the edge of her mattress, her shins bounce up and down uselessly before she lets them hang down limply over the side. Though she can't make out any clear details of his face in the dim light, Sakura fixes her own murderous gaze approximately where her attacker's eyes should be and waits.

He'll have to uncover my mouth eventually, even for just a second. And then I'll scream bloody murder. I'll get my hands free. I'll scratch his face to get DNA under my fingernails and –

"Ah, you've settled down. Good," a familiar voice reaches her ears, breaking through her instructive thoughts. The tone is almost uncaring, as though he's merely a passive observer rather than an active participant in restraining her.

Sakura completely stills, her nostrils flaring out as her brain processes whose voice is coming in loud and clear in the dark shadows of her bedroom. And with quiet dread, if not utter disbelief, she matches a face and name to the man straddling her waist.

They were wrong.

"Itachi," her lips attempt to form the name despite being mashed against his hand.

The cops said there was little chance he'd come after me!

"It seems I'm in need of your assistance, Sakura," his voice is unmistakable in its promise that Sakura isn't going to find whatever he has to say agreeable.

They were wrong. Wrong. Wrong. WRONG. WRONG. WRONGWRONGWRONGWR –

"And it seems," Itachi pauses as he leans down toward Sakura's face, close enough that she can feel the tips of his long bangs brush across her cheeks and see the reflective glint in two dark eyes, "That you are in need of mine."

At this, Sakura's hysterical inner chant is broken as her stressed mind works to rearrange his words into some kind of semblance of rationality. But she can't. He needs her help and she needs his?

"You're being watched," he states simply.

Some combination of disgust and incredulity must mar the upper half of her facial features as Itachi gives her a warning look before slowly withdrawing his hand.

Sakura manages to get out one shrill syllable of a scream before Itachi's hand is slapped back in place, a harsh look of reproach drawing down the stern line of his mouth.

"That was very unwise. As I said, you're being watched. At the very least, listened to."

Sakura squirms to free her hands out from under Itachi's weight, but his knees press down on the backs of her hands with even more force, making Sakura wince.

"Now, we're going to try this again Haruno, and I expect you to cooperate."

When he doesn't remove his hand, Sakura realizes he's waiting for some sign of agreement so she nods her head as best she can while lying flat on her back.

"Very well," and with that, his cool hand retracts once more and Sakura hesitates a moment to speak, all of her thoughts battling for dominance.

"What do you mean by I'm being watched? Of course I am! The police are out hunting for you and they've assigned someone to keep tabs on my apartment and escort me to and from work," Sakura can't keep out the bitter edge in her words. Itachi's reappearance has severely disrupted her life in the worst ways imaginable. The invasion of peace and privacy, the lost sense of security…She could go on with her list of grievances, but those are the most important.

Yet, despite all of that, he couldn't leave well enough alone. He has to come and completely destroy everything I have.

"Yes, but I doubt part of the police department's protection program involves spying on the victim, don't you?"

At Sakura's confused scowl, he continues, "Someone has planted listening devices in your apartment, someone I'm betting you didn't invite into your home. Want to take a guess as to what they find so interesting about you?"

Sakura can almost detect a hint of mocking in his voice, as though he's belittling her for bringing this upon herself. And how dare he! She never wanted any part in this whole mess! She was coerced by an insufferable Chief of Police and the begging of an old friend. She thought her part in all of this would be minimal.

"One bug in the living room and one in the kitchen. I wasn't able to finish checking in here, but I haven't come across anything. Neither have I found any cameras, but I believe they're more keen on what it is you have to say than what it is you're doing. And what exactly are you doing, Sakura?"

Nose-to-nose, Sakura grits her teeth threateningly, though she's powerless to fight back, physically or verbally.

"Unlike you, Itachi, I'm not a wanted criminal. I can move about a bit more freely and my business is my own. And I certainly don't have to take advice from the likes of you," Sakura spits back defensively.

"A naïve perspective. It's the ordinary, law-abiding citizens that are the most shackled to societal norms and regulations. On the contrary, I can do as I please because I ignore them entirely," Itachi replies easily.

Sakura grunts as she renews her energy to buck Itachi off, but he is immovable.

"You've been poking into matters that don't concern you," Itachi's flat tone is all but accusatory.

At this, Sakura's eyes, dark and narrowed, squint up into his face as the gears of her mind grind rapidly into action.

"It was you!" she crows, "It was you who sent me those stupid threats, wasn't it? Why bother with that? Why didn't you just leave?!"

"I did not send you any threats," Itachi says slowly, "But now I'm interested to know who has."

Sakura's body goes still once more as this news sinks in. Truly, she thought she had figured it out.

But if not Itachi…Then who?

"I've received three notes in my mail that comes to the hospital…They all said I was getting too close to finding out something I shouldn't and that I had to stop," Sakura says, almost as though pondering aloud to herself and not trapped underneath the body of a wanted convict.

"You didn't listen. I said to keep your nose out of my cousin's death. The case is cold and you don't need to be the one that re-opens it."

"But why not?" Sakura asks almost petulantly, "Don't you want justice for Shisui?"

A moment of embarrassing (at least for Sakura) silence passes between the two as Sakura re-evaluates who exactly it is she's speaking to.

"It doesn't matter now," Itachi replies stiffly, "However, this changes things. You've made yourself a target. These people aren't just after knowing how much you know. They'll want to silence you," he finishes grimly.

Sakura gapes like a fish, "B-But I-I don't really know anything! The police report on the case hardly gave any details at all and – ''

"You went to the police department?" Itachi asks sharply, the hand resting next to Sakura's head sinking down into the mattress even further.

"I – Yeah, I requested to have a copy made. Why is that so bad?"

A frustrated sigh escapes Itachi as he sits up straight. Sakura wishes he'd release her hands; uncomfortable tingles shoot up her arms as they start to fall asleep.

"I've suspected for some time now that there's a mole working within the department. Possibly more than one. Now that you've been assigned a police escort, you've come to that mole's attention. It's possible that they've even ensured they were one of the officers assigned to you."

Something cold and slimy slides down Sakura's spine at this thought. The idea of someone who was specifically designated to protect her actually having a hidden agenda to harm her…It's scary. It's madness.

"How do you know this? Who do these moles work for?"

"The organization I work for has an extensive intelligence network. But this group here in Konoha, I came across even before joining Akatsuki. They call themselves ROOT and their boss is someone I'm sure you've heard of."

"And who – ?"

But Sakura's question is interrupted as the sound of someone knocking at her front door travels back to the bedroom where Itachi and she both freeze, temporarily coming out of their little, private bubble of conspiracy and murder.

For a moment, Sakura blanks, unsure of what to do in such a situation.

Try to break away and make a run for the door and help?

Get caught with having a wanted criminal in her apartment?

Let the door go unanswered and say good-bye to any hope of rescue from this awful, messy situation?

But the ball isn't in her court, so to speak. Itachi is in control of the situation and it's his decision to make. Making a point to flash a gruesomely curved knife in front of Sakura's eyes, demanding her compliance, he brings a finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence.

Reacting quickly, Itachi yanks Sakura to her feet, a hand slipping back into place over her mouth as he tugs her along to the front door. Expertly, he maneuvers around the furniture in her living room despite the lack of light, and silently pulls Sakura up to his side as he peers out the peephole of the door and then has Sakura do the same.

A police officer in full uniform stands waiting on the other side.

Sai.

Whispering lightly into her ear and without removing his hand, he asks, "Do you recognize him? Nod once if yes, twice if no."

Not knowing why she bothers to be truthful with him, she nods once.

"Is it usual for the police to come to your door at night to check in on you?"

They never have.

Exaggeratedly, Sakura nods her head twice to indicate no.

She feels his grip on her arms tighten as he readjusts his hold ever so slightly. Her thoughts flash to the knife concealed in Itachi's back pocket.

Is he thinking of killing Sai?

"I think we may have our mole right at your front door, Doctor," Itachi's breath tickles the shell of her ear and for a moment Sakura wonders if she heard him correctly.

Sai?

And though it seems ludicrous to think that Itachi might be telling the truth, a part of her wonders…And thinks that maybe it's not so outlandish as it sounds.

Would Sai betray her like that? Did he have it in him to do that?

Some small, fearful voice within her whispers, "Yes."

Now, all she wants to do is back away from the door, but that causes her to bump lightly into Itachi's chest. Truly, she can't determine which is the bigger threat.

"Change of plans. Is there a back door to this place?"

Sakura nods twice.

"A fire escape?"

She nods once, lifting her foot to point back toward her bedroom. Out the window is a rickety looking fire escape that Sakura had prayed long ago she'd never find herself using.

"Go."

Itachi pushes her in that direction as another series of short raps at the door momentarily distracts her.

If Sai is here to 'silence' me, then is going with Itachi the better option? I mean, I didn't actually even see any of the bugs, I'm just taking his word for it. And why? Why should I believe anything he says?

Frowning to herself, Sakura unconsciously allows herself to be guided to the window and unseeingly watches as Itachi unfastens the lock and slides open the glass window and then the screen, letting in the brisk night air.

Because I think there really is something important being hidden in Shisui's murder. I don't think Itachi is lying about that. But if I leave with him…What's going to become of me?

But Itachi leaves her with little time to think and sort through the pros and cons of following a wanted criminal. Right now, there is only time for action. Prompting her to raise a leg over the windowsill, Itachi gives her freedom to speak right as they hear a loud bang coming back from the way they came.

Sai has broken the lock.

And his odd check-up coupled with the forced entry is enough to propel Sakura out onto the fire escape, glad she had yet to find the time to take off her boots since getting back home. A metallic cling vibrates through the rusty, old structure under Sakura's less than graceful landing and Itachi is soon next to her in the cramped space, ushering her down the steps.

As her feet touch down on the asphalt of the parking lot, Itachi tugs on her arm, leading her to the back of the fenced in property where a chain link fence overgrown with vegetation divides the surrounding property.

"You expect me to jump this?" Sakura glances up at Itachi's blank expression.

True, the top of the fence is about at eye level with Sakura, and thus not all that impressive in stature, but regardless, it's still a bit much for anyone to expect her to hurdle over it.

She could probably awkwardly clamber over it…and snag her clothes in the process.

Debating on the most strategic way to surmount her obstacle and hearing an invisible clock ticking away as Sai is likely finishing up with searching her apartment, Sakura is caught off guard as she's hoisted up without permission.

Kicking out on instinct and subsequently being counterproductive to Itachi's intentions, he squeezes her biceps harder as he lifts her up to step along the narrow width of the fence before she quickly makes friends with gravity and drops down to the ground.

In the time it takes Sakura to dust herself off from clinging leaf debris and grass and rise to her feet, Itachi manages to jump as lithely as a cat onto the fence and then land lightly on his feet next to her. This leaves Sakura to wonder just how often Itachi has found himself in similar situations that such physical feats have become second nature.

Darting ahead into the landscaped backyard of a neighboring house, Itachi grabs hold of Sakura once more, his hand finding hers. As she follows alongside her longtime crush's older brother, hand-in-hand, Sakura silently asks whatever higher power that exists in the world why these events have befallen her.

Though she doesn't receive an answer, she takes some small comfort in the sight of a nearly full moon illuminating the sky and the unknown path Itachi takes into the city.


Author's Note: Merry Christmas (or whatever it is you may celebrate)! This is just my little gift to you for the holidays. Hope you all enjoy, and hopefully there aren't too many errors as I typed this up rather quickly!

Thanks for reading!