DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters. All rights belong to Masashi Kishimoto. I also do not own the song 'Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers'. All rights belong to Jack Off Jill. I only own my OC's (Original Characters), if any appear at all, along with this fanfic. Thank you.

Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers

"…ughh…"

Slowly, Konan's eyes opened, as her vision adjusted to the fluorescent lights. She sat up, head pounding and stomach churning. She was seated at the bar in the kitchen, empty glasses and bottles strewn around her. As she struggled to keep her balance, massaging her aching temples, the memories of the day before started filtering in, like water down a rainspout.

After her bizarre encounter with that pink-haired street rat, dragging her upstairs to meet with Pein-sama, she'd ended up in the kitchen, trying to drown her conflicting thoughts and emotions with as much booze as she could get her hands on. She stared weakly, bleary blue eyes landing on a bottle of vodka. It was one of the giant ones-and it was half empty.

"How much…did I drink, anyway?" Rising to her feet, she stumbled-she'd forgotten that she was in heels-and desperately grabbed at the nearby counter, to keep from falling. Like a newborn in the wild, she staggered out, past the large conference table, and into the parlor.

"Fuck…I hate booze…" To be honest, Konan wasn't a big fan of distilled spirits. But when she needed something potent, something drastic to take her away from all the twisted memories, she'd reach for a bottle. Keep on chugging, until the world disappeared, until her body faded away, until the voices became nothing more than the hum of a mosquito.

'TNK' "Shit!" 'FWUMP' Konan cursed, as the scenery began to spin around her. She'd missed a step, and her ankle had bent. Now she lay on the floor, blinking and lost. Like a ship in a storm. Where was she, anyway? She could barely recognize the décor surrounding her. Did she really live here? Had she truly been living here for over a decade?

"My fucking head…I can't breathe…" Can't see, can't hear-is my heart beating at all? Maybe I'm dead. Maybe I drank one too many shots, and keeled over from alcohol poisoning. For some reason, this thought comforted her. She didn't want to be alive. Not here. Not now.

'TMP' 'TMP' "Konan-san?" Her shoulders stiffened, as she tried to determine the source of the voice. It sounded familiar, but…she was so groggy, she couldn't find a face or a name to place it to. As she racked whatever pieces of her brain that were functioning, she felt a pair of strong hands lift her from the ground. She turned her head, to try and see the owner of these appendages. But she moved just a little too fast, and almost wound up hurling. One of the hands removed itself from under her arms, to rub her back in soothing circles. "Take it easy there, Konan. There's no rush."

This time, she was able to lift her head. Bloodshot blue locked onto calm, deep brown. Then a smudge of red, which slowly rose up, expanding above the pair of concerned orbs. "Konan? Are you alright? What were you doing out here?"

"Sa…Sasori?" The name tumbled from her mouth, raw and heavy. It seemed like her tongue weighed a ton. He nodded, the colors swaying to and fro. "Yeah, it's me. What were you doing out here?" He was repeating himself. With a gawky motion of her left hand, she swung it in the direction of the bar. She heard him sigh, before turning back to face her. "Rough day yesterday?" Carefully, he led her towards the couch.

"Oh, you have no idea," she muttered, dropping onto the plushy seat like a stone. She felt it bounce beneath her body, and she had to breathe hard, to keep her stomach from ending up on the floor. The labored tones worried the redhead who stood over her, and, releasing his grip from her arm, quickly headed for the sink. He pulled a cup from the wash rack, rinsing it under the tap before heading to the fridge for some ice and water.

"Here. Drink this." He came back, gently pushing the cool cup into her stiff hand. Her fingers somehow managed to close around it, and she obeyed, lifting it to her parched lips. She felt the chilled substance pass through, drenching her mouth in a much-needed burst of freezing liquid. It was as if her insides were on fire. The water slid down further, down her throat, loosening the vocal cords and settling in her jumpy abdomen. She blinked, staring down at the clear cup in her hand, before looking up, to see Sasori watching her with a tense expression.

"T-thank you," she rasped, and a sigh of relief escaped him. He sat down next to her on the couch, fixing her with a small smile. "So…what exactly brought on this particular binge?"

"I…I don't know. A lil' bit of everything, I think." He chuckled, and she took another long sip of water. "We…we had to or-organize-assemble the recruits, for eval-u-ation." Her tongue was too big for her mouth. Sasori's eyes narrowed. "I see…and then what?"

Before she realized it, the words had tumbled forth, pushing and shoving until they were out in the open, where nobody could pull them back. "There's-there's this girl, with them-and she has-has pink hair. She makes me…makes me feel."

He blinked. "Makes you feel? Feel what?"

"Nothing in-in particular. Just…feeling. I don't like it-I don't like it at all." She furrowed her brow for a moment, but was forced to forgo the expression, as her head rumbled with another barrage of pounding, painful tremors. She didn't like feeling. She wasn't used to feeling. Especially not for something-or someone-who was beneath her.

"Do you feel sorry for her?" Sasori could only sit there, trying to decipher the root of this problem; trying to understand why the woman had nearly killed herself with an overload of liquors. He was starting to see some of it: as Akatsuki, they were trained to care for nothing but themselves-and the organization. So any sort of feeling for another, such as a victim, was confusing. And in Konan's case, the only other she was supposed to care for was Leader-sama. To feel anything for anyone else was like a betrayal of their relationship.

Maybe. Or perhaps, he was just reading too much into the whole situation.

"No!" The single word was like a bullet, sharp and piercing. "No, I don't…I just…I don't know. And I hate not knowing." That last sentence-it sounded as if it had come from the mouth of a child. Always curious, always needing, always wanting for all the answers. He shook his head.

"Well, right now, you need to get some rest. Come on-I'll take you to your room." Helping her up, they headed for the hallway. Konan was slightly slumped over, making it look somewhat like the redhead was a boy scout, leading an elderly woman across the street. Eventually, they made it to the bedroom at the end of the line. He turned the handle, and the door swung open. He didn't make any motion to step inside, though; none of the other members were allowed into Leader-sama's chambers.

Sasori gave her a reassuring smile. "Go on. Get some decent shuteye." Without question, Konan went inside, and the door closed silently behind her.

"Shut…eye…" Wandering over to the gigantic bed, she placed the cup atop her dresser, and crawled over the thick covers, until her head was right above the fluffy pillows. Her arms gave way, and she collapsed onto the soft surface.

Yes…sleep is good…sleep is what I need…just sleep…sleep it all away…

In a few minutes, she was out cold.

……

'TNK' 'TNK' 'CRASH'

"Aw, jeez! Can't you be more careful?! That's expensive china, right there!"

"Oh, like I give a fuck, Kakuzu! Why don't you stop humping your damn wallet, and help us out here, huh?"

It was mid-afternoon, in the main hallway of the Akatsuki hideout. A select few of the members were busy clearing out one of the rooms, located at the entrance of the long pathway.

The orders had come down from Leader-sama himself. A new face was going to be joining them up there soon enough. And they needed a place to stay. So, Pein was having them clean out the 'storage room'. It was mainly where they kept track of all valuables; anything that had been gained from their various activities. Some were given as gifts, while others were ill-gotten. From statues to fine dining wear, and everything in between, it was all stored here.

And now, it was all being moved. To make room for a bed and other similar objects.

"I don't see why they can't just share a room with one of us, un." Deidara was marching past, a large cardboard box in his hands. He set it on the conference table, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "What's so special about them, un?"

"Maybe they're female." Kakuzu returned to counting the inventory. But Hidan's eyes had widened, as his thoughts lingered on the previous comment.

"A chick, huh? Well, that's just fine and fucking dandy!" His lips curved up into a sneer, as he elbowed the blond roughly. "Hey, maybe she'd be willing to-pay us for our services, eh? You know-since we're going through all this trouble for her ass!" Dei rolled his eyes at the suggestive remark. "Keep it in your pants, un. What little you have, anyway." This remark sent Hidan into a fury, and soon enough, he and Deidara were playing tag around the large table.

Kakuzu let out a sigh, as he checked off the last name on the list. "That's it. We don't have to unload any more items." The other two forgot about their previous argument, as they wandered over to see for themselves. "Really? That's it?"

"Yep. He only said to move half of the load-enough to fit in a bed, chest and lamp. The rest can stay." The two exchanged surprised glances, before heading for the double doors.

"Hey! We still have to move this stuff! You're not leaving it all out here! This is expensive! What if one of the rookies decides to run off with it?" The two retreating males groaned, as the miser stamped his foot impatiently. "Well? Hurry up!"

Apparently, being a big-shot criminal wasn't all fun and games.

……

"Mm…ngh…"

It was evening now underground. The activities of the day were starting to slow, as nightlife routines began taking their place. Most of the main members were relaxing tonight, though; there wasn't really anyplace that they were required to be. So, the main hub was quiet, with only the lights to signify that anyone was around at all.

In the bedroom, Konan lay tangled atop the blankets, sweating and shivering. She was dreaming-but it was one that she had hoped to forget a long time ago. Her memories were rearing up once again, taking over and forcing her to watch. She was helpless, unable to do anything but allow her subconscious and damaged mind to drag her down-into the depths of the past.

'CRASH' 'TINKLE'

"Please don't find me…please don't find me…please-please don't let him find me here…"

The sounds of breaking plates and angry curses lingered in the air, as Konan drew her knees up closer, against her chest, and pressed her palms as hard as she could, to block out every shatter, every swear word and every furious stomp of his feet.

She was nine. And huddled in a corner, inside her closet. Her heart was pounding, as she heard him begin the trek upstairs.

"Where are you, you little bitch? I know you're in here somewhere!" Her father was drunk again-no surprises there-and was searching for his favorite outlet to vent his rage upon. Namely, her body. She let out a soft whimper, and shut her eyes tight.

It had been like this forever. Her mother had left when she was six, leaving her at the mercy of this-this man. No-he was a monster. She wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go. And who would believe her, anyway? Her father paid the bills, owned the house. He was respected enough in the community. Who would believe a freak of a kid like her?

'WHAM' "Get out here, you little bitch!" He was nearing the top of the landing. She tried to pray, but she couldn't remember the words. What good would it do, though? God wasn't listening. He couldn't be-not if he was allowing this to happen. Her breaths grew quicker, as his footsteps creaked against the hallway floorboards. One…two…three…in ten steps, he'd be outside of her bedroom door. It was broken, hanging at an awkward angle from the hinges. That's what had happened when she'd tried to lock it.

"Come out, come out…come out, Konan! You can't hide…can't hide from Daddy…" She winced. She hated that word. Daddy. It was supposed to represent warmth, and protection-instead, it embodied fear, and loathing. "You little blue-haired wretch! Can't believe I'm expected to support you…" She heard him coughing, as he stopped, five steps from her room. He could still beat her, still cuss her out like a sailor, even with all the booze he shoveled down his throat, and all the packs of cigarettes that he chain smoked on a daily basis.

Konan knew that there wasn't a God then-nobody loved her, nobody cared, and she shivered as he resumed his lumbering march down the hall. She remembered her bitter, feeble cries in the night; her pointless hopes for him to just one day keel over, and set her free. She knew it was a sin, to wish ill-will upon another. But how could she be expected to love him? This wasn't a life of caring-it was an existence of manipulation. And she was the toy.

"Kona-an…" His voice had taken on an almost sing-song quality, as her door creaked feebly. He was inside, inside her room. She didn't move, didn't cry out, didn't even breathe. It was as if she'd been frozen in time. He was drawing closer, closer to her hideaway-to the closet.

The same whispered wish from before was echoing, like a mad mantra in her mind, as his thick hands closed around the tiny doorknobs. She knew that it would do her no good, no good at all, as the doors swung open. Her blue locks hung in her face, as her head was lowered, tucked down with her chin pressing into her knees.

Her heart was racing, and the cold sweat dripped down her neck. From her wide eyes came the hot, salty tears, as she heard him chuckle, heard him laugh. He reached inside, easily stretching his arm past the hangars and boxes. She heard him growl, as his hand latched around her ankle-

"NO!" Konan woke up screaming. She was drenched in sweat, and her heart was going too fast to track. Her stomach churned; the drinks from the night before were mingling with the familiar terror of her youth.

Heeled feet thudding across the floor, she rushed into the bathroom, the retreat of her adulthood evenings, and vomited into the stainless white toilet bowl.

A/N: And here we are, at the end of another day underground with the Akatsuki. Still holding on?

I know, I know-Sakura wasn't in this chapter. It's mostly the crew and Konan. But don't worry-she'll be back next week. Until then, let me know if these characterizations are believable. I don't know how, but for some reason Konan and Sasori have ended up as sometime acquaintences here. ^^; Good, or no? Feedback is welcomed.

We also got another peek into Konan's past, and how it shaped her into the woman she is today. Did it fit? Was it too much? Dull, lagging? Or has it made you curious for more? Again, drop a line.

Next week: Sakura's movin' on up! Konan assumes the awkward role of teacher, with a dash of humor on the side. Happy holidays!

Ja-ne! =^.^=