As always, thank you to everybody who was splendid enough to review. :)

Chapter Nine: Fire


She hated Sasuke. Despised Sasuke. Sure, he was the hottest guy she had ever laid eyes on (even though the thought made her feel quite guilty…Suigetsu was a close second, but still) and his chakra was a ten on her scale, but Karin had never been so glad that she had decided not to pursue him romantically. Because, hell, despite the fact that he was physically irresistible, he was still an asshole.

Jugo was freaking blue and Suigetsu's sharp teeth were chattering at a mile a minute, and Sasuke still hadn't let them stop for so much as a hot drink. Hell, they hadn't eaten all day. They had been traveling without rest for ages, even after the blizzard struck, and that was how they had ended up here, in some fairly affluent town on the edge of Stone. Karin was on the verge of ripping her hair out with frustration – Sakura's chakra signature had disappeared, save for the faintest of trails…so much that all they had to go on was Jugo's composite sketches. It was a good thing that she had such outrageously memorable pink hair…

"This is fucking ridiculous," she muttered quietly, as the four of them strode down the deserted main street.

Unfortunately, Sasuke heard, and he glanced back at her, giving her a cold, cutting look. "Is your resolve wavering already, Karin?" he asked snidely.

She fought the urge to bare her teeth at him. "No," she retorted. "It's just that, if you let us at least wait somewhere until the blizzard dies down, there's less of a chance of us losing our bearings and totally losing Sakura's trail."

"We can't get much further in this weather, Sasuke," Jugo cut in sensibly, even though his entire body was shaking spasmodically.

Sasuke looked back and forth between the members of his team, letting his gaze linger on each of them, before he turned back around, the breath leaving his body in a frustrated sigh. "Fine," he said shortly.

He made a sharp, immediate turn left, apparently into the first appropriate establishment he saw, leading them through the glass doors and into the expansive lobby of one of the numerous hotels that lined the town's side streets. At first glance, Karin could tell that it was one of the higher-end establishments: chandelier, expensive gold décor, plush red carpeting. It was luxury that she had never even seen before, and even though she didn't want to look like the small-town girl that she was, her eyes widened appreciatively.

The clerk sitting behind the large, hand-carved oak desk was a young man with short, elaborately styled red hair and pale, thin-framed rectangular glasses. Even though Karin could guess that a group of extremely weather-battered teenagers wasn't the customary clientele for a place like this, he still nodded at them politely, doing a good job of shelving his surprise. "What can I do for you four tonight?"

"We'll need one room for tonight only," Sasuke replied brusquely, reaching into one of the inner pockets of the dark flak vest that he wore.

The clerk inclined his head, accepting the money gracefully as he searched his registry for an available room. "With luck, the storm will have abated by the morning. I only have one suite available, sir, although I do not think it will prove to be a problem – double rooms, sharing one bathroom. Third floor, room 301."

Sasuke nodded curtly, accepting the keys without a word.

His bad mood was practically radiating off him in waves that supplemented the darkness of his chakra, and Karin bit her lip. Suigetsu and Jugo looked as concerned as she felt, and in an attempt to calm him down so that the entire coming night wouldn't be utterly insufferable, Suigetsu turned back to the clerk, unceremoniously tugging one of the scrolls out of Jugo's hands. He unrolled it with a quick snap, allowing the drawing of Sakura to fall free. "One thing, before we head up – have you seen this girl?"

Sasuke sighed quietly, despite the disparaging look that Karin sent him. He appreciated Suigetsu's efforts, but…it was common sense, really. Sakura was traveling alone with absolutely no currency whatsoever. She would never be able to get a room in a place like this.

The idea took root in his mind in just an instant, and before the clerk even had a chance to properly look over the picture, Sasuke stepped forward, pulling the scroll that that contained the sketch of Itachi out of the inside of his flak jacket. He released the fastening in one smooth movement, and the rice paper unraveled quickly, so that the flawless rendition of Itachi fluttered next to Sakura's. "Or, perhaps more accurately, have you seen this man?" the younger Uchiha inquired, although the muscles in his jaw twitched at the very thought of Itachi…of the fact that he was possibly occupying the same space as Itachi had; retracing his brother's path as he received his keys and walked toward the nearby elevators.

The clerk's eyes widened, his gaze skipping between the two sketches. There was a thick, sudden tension in the lobby, and for the first time, he noticed the shapes of concealed weapons underneath all four teenagers' winter clothing. He took a small, unconscious step backwards, racking his brain for the familiar faces he saw before him.

"Actually, I have," he acknowledged slowly, squinting his eyes at them.

Sasuke exhaled impatiently, rolling up Itachi's drawing again in one terse movement. "Uh, which one?" Suigetsu asked quickly.

The clerk tilted his head at the two of them, looking a little confused. "Both of them. They checked out this morning, together – shared a room on the top floor, actually."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, Sasuke's heart stopped beating, and for a few seconds, there was utter, deathly stillness in the lobby.

He couldn't even formulate a single thought. When he tried to take a step forward, the world spun crazily beneath his feet, and Sasuke blinked, trying to clear the dark spots that had suddenly stolen over his vision.

There was a roaring, rushing sound in his ears, and maybe he had gone deaf as well, because Suigetsu, Jugo, and Karin were staring at him like he was in the process of growing rhino horns out of his forehead, and their lips were moving – they looked so very worried – but he couldn't hear anything.

And then Karin pushed Suigetsu and Jugo aside roughly, slamming her pack down on the floor, and her eyes were wide and anxious. Sasuke could see her lips moving urgently as she leaned over to the clerk, looking like she was barely restraining herself from grabbing him by the collar and screeching her inquiry at the top of her lungs, and finally, he could hear the other man's reply, but very, very faintly.

A pink-haired girl and a man wearing a red-and-black cloak. Together. Yes. He was absolutely certain, and he would bet his life on it.

Oh, kami.

Sasuke's stomach turned over, and a small, despairing, disbelieving sound that couldn't have come from him forced its way past his throat.

His vision blacked out again, and for the second time in his entire life, his mind shut down completely, unable to comprehend what it had just heard.


When his eyes snapped open, he was in a room with Suigetsu, Jugo, and Karin. They had sat him down on some kind of couch, and their concerned touches and voices were all over him, but he couldn't concentrate on that.

It was replaying in his head again. Scenes from that horrible night. His parents' still, lifeless bodies, and Itachi's cold, dead voice, and the screaming, oh, god, the screaming. He could hear himself whimpering, like the frightened child that he had been all those years ago. Nothing had changed. He was still helpless; still powerless to stop the events that were unfolding around him.

Sasuke fell forward convulsively, gripping his hair in his hands so hard that a few strands were separated at the roots, and curling into himself so rigidly that even his teammates' combined efforts couldn't get him to sit up straight and relax. His breathing was so loud and harsh and ragged that it echoed in the still room, and every gasp for breath felt like a tortured scream.

Sakura. Her face flashed through his mind over and over again, sweet and smiling and exotically beautiful as she was, and it was clever and resourceful and even though for some reason she didn't enjoy knowing she had that kind of power over others, she could kill a man with five hand seals.

She wouldn't stand a chance against…him.

Of course Itachi would have heard, somehow, that when he had defected from Konoha, he hadn't been alone…that he had foolishly allowed somebody else to be sucked into the dark descent into madness that Sound had been, for him. Itachi would have rightly assumed that, since he brought her along, that he…well, that he cared about Sakura, in his own limited way, as much as he could care for anybody.

And that was why he had made her a target.

Itachi had destroyed everything that he cared about. Ripped it apart and mutilated it and obliterated it. To test his strength. To prove his power. And now he had Sakura, and he was going to—

"No," Sasuke muttered feverishly as he began to rock back and forth, raking his hair back with his fingers, and he felt the blood beginning to drain from his face. "No, no, no—"

Somebody grabbed his shoulder, saying his name firmly, over and over again, and he jerked back spasmodically, a sound halfway between a snarl and a hiss ripping free of his throat. His entire body was overcome with tremors, and his eyes and the curse seal burned as they never had before.

One of the others – no, two of the others – shoved him against the back of the sofa roughly, holding him down, despite how he lashed out blindly, his fists and fingernails making contact with the fabric of their coats and ripping them through. They sounded more upset than he had ever heard them. "Sasuke, man, we're really sorry for this, but Karin's worried you're having a mental break—"

And before Sasuke could even fight for another shuddering breath, Karin's hand was on the back of his neck, and her voice was higher-pitched than usual, and unsteady. "Sasuke, look, please cooperate – I'm sorry, but I'm doing this for your own good. You'll thank me when you come around, I promise."

In the next instant, the darkness overcame him again.


Northern Region of Stone


It took a few seconds for Itachi's heart to start beating again, and detachedly, he realized that he wouldn't have been more stunned if Sakura had slapped him across the face without warning.

All too suddenly, he was subtly fighting to catch his breath. Sakura hadn't even blinked; she was staring at him patiently, with her wide, too-perceptive eyes, and Itachi could see that she was waiting for any sort of reaction on his part with bated breath.

The tense silence and stillness stretched between them, forming a blanket much heavier and more uncomfortable than the Akatsuki cloak that Sakura had thrown around over them. Despite herself, she flinched when Itachi readjusted his positioning minutely, even though the movements were slow and obviously meant not to startle her. He wouldn't look her in the eye as he gently took both of her hands in his own, lightly tracing his thumbs over her knuckles and the backs of her hands, before carefully interlacing their fingers.

Sakura's breath caught in her throat, and she couldn't help but lean back a fraction of an inch, unnerved…both by the tenderness and unexpectedness of the gesture, and at the same time, how right it felt. She and Sasuke had never indulged in something as simple and intimate as holding hands, but she realized now that she liked it. A lot. Her hands warmed Itachi's, and they were so much smaller, compared to the length of his fingers and the broadness of his palms. They both stared at their interlocked hands, and even though her head was pounding in reaction to the sustained tension, she glanced up at Itachi warily.

His face was contorting a little, like there were words forming in his mouth that he didn't like the feel of, and he looked…well, torn was the only way to describe it, although it didn't do full justice to the conflict that was written all over his face. Sakura squeezed his hands as lightly and reassuringly as she could, frantically wondering whether there was a way to gently push Itachi to it without it backfiring and having the opposite effect by making him clam up again.

Itachi's lips parted despite himself, and he hastily closed them again, looking back toward the mouth of the cave in an attempt to distract himself. There was a vice-like tightening sensation building in his chest, driving the breath from his body and nearly making him nauseous. The unfamiliar emotions making his heart seize up and his skin tremble, regardless of Sakura's warmth, took a moment to identify. He was furious with himself, for so many reasons…reasons he couldn't fully understand. He had kept this secret for seven agonizing years, seven years, and this close to the end, only a short while after coming to know Sakura, he had slipped up so fatally and inexcusably. And, for the first time in recent memory, he was actually angry. Angry that he had allowed his iron-clad self-control to slip like this, and above all, angry that, for a fraction of a second, he had been within an inch of spilling the whole sordid tale out.

It was disgusting and pitiable and, more than that, pathetic, that he allowed himself to be so influenced by Sakura's soft words; her touch; the coaxing expression in her vivid green eyes. That, after such a long time spent living this horrifying lie, he had very nearly confessed his secret just because a pretty girl had asked him nicely.

It was just that – for a fraction of a second, he had seen what would have happened if he allowed himself to let his guard down. To tell her the truth. She would have been stunned and maybe disbelieving, but then it would have followed a predictable pattern. He would have convinced her, and she would have believed him. And that, more than anything else, would leave them on equal footing. Once essentially absolved of her responsibility to despise him, Sakura might have even…

Itachi closed his eyes tightly, rapidly shutting down that train of thought. Stop, for that way lies madness, his mind quoted, somewhat irrationally. He had sacrificed so much already. What was one more? One more possibility, one more could-have-been. He could not allow such weakness in himself.

Sakura watched him, somewhat bewildered, but not daring to pull away. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him for more than the time it took to blink. It was like she had pulled him to the edge of a precipice, and if one of them made the slightest movement, it could send both of them toppling over.

Finally, without opening his eyes, Itachi slowly lifted her hands up a few inches, still keeping them locked with his. Sakura felt her muscles tense imperceptibly – she couldn't see what he was doing; he had inclined his head so that his long hair fell over his face, shielding it from full view, but it took all of her self-control not to jump back when he actually brushed his lips along the knuckles of both of her hands. The feather-light touch felt electrifying, and her heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was going to implode. There were words rising in her throat, but she swallowed them down reflexively.

When Itachi finally looked back up at her, she was startled by the expression in his dark gray eyes; intense like she had never seen them before. He swallowed visibly a few times, glancing down, before locking gazes with her again, in a way that seemed like he was silently pleading with her to understand.

"You are the only one that I have told this, and it is just because I would like at least one person to know. Sakura, from the beginning to the end," Itachi said, slowly and deliberately, his voice even lower than usual, "…I did what I thought was right."

There were a few more heartbeats of silence before he slowly untangled their fingers, glancing off into the shadows, and even though her heart had leaped into her throat, Sakura still noticed how completely mute Itachi had seemed to have rendered himself. Like he had absolutely no intention of saying anything further.

Too disturbed by what she had just heard to care about anything as trivial as pride, Sakura reached out, grabbing his hands and tugging on them insistently, practically forcing him to turn around and look at her. Itachi didn't even flinch when they were suddenly nose-to-nose, or close to it, her hands fisting in the material of his shirt. "What?" she demanded, feeling her face flush with something approaching anger. His words implied that he thought killing his entire family had been the right course of action, even though his body language was saying the exact opposite.

Itachi looked at her calmly, before detaching her fingers from his shirt, and even though he tried, he couldn't bring himself to let go of her hands as easily as he would have liked. "That is it, Sakura," he replied, his tone a parody of its usual noncommittal manner, and each word made him ache in a way that had nothing to do with the cold and the sickness.

Sakura went stock-still, studying him clinically, her eyes scanning over his face as if she was trying to read him like one of her volumes of medical knowledge. At last, her eyes blazed, and Itachi could see the effort she was exerting to even inhale calmly without slamming a fist-sized crater in the cave wall.

"You did what you thought was right," the pink-haired kunoichi echoed flatly, and even though she was thinking as hard as she could, trying to connect the dots in her mind, she didn't want to play word games or mind games or whatever Itachi wanted her to do. She just wanted the truth, and she refused to believe that it was as simple as what he had just told her.

Itachi inclined his head a fraction of an inch, and Sakura fought the frustration rising up within her. She made herself take a deep breath in, leaning forward and refusing to let him break eye contact. This was a mind game, and she would not lose. The answer was there somewhere; it just had to be found.

"You did what was right for you," Sakura spoke, slowly and carefully, keeping her sharp gaze trained on him for any sign of reaction. "Because, from such a young age, the clan forced you to train as a shinobi and pushed you to heights that most grown men have difficulty achieving, even though your…" she paused abruptly, unsure whether she wanted him to know that she knew about the sickness. "…Your, um, physical, emotional, and mental health was severely damaged by what they were making you do…and they pushed you too far."

Apart from the slight lapse, the words came out as understanding and confident as she had hoped, and Sakura held her breath, but Itachi's face remained as impassive and unchanging as glass.

She reached out, taking his hand and rubbing her thumb in soft circles around the inside of his palm, sitting back on her knees. Her head ached, but Sakura's mind was working frantically. She had been the second smartest kid at the Academy; arguably the most book-smart and overtly intelligent of her teammates and friends in Sound as well. Kabuto-sensei had often told her that there were adult logistics analysts who would envy her sheer tenacity. For her entire life, there had been no problem; mathematical or logical or analytical, that she couldn't solve. The answer was here, somewhere, and she would find the solution. There had to be a way in.

"You did what you thought was right for Sasuke," Sakura commented, and the words came out softer than usual. The implications of this one disturbed her more than anything else. "Because if you didn't do anything to stop them, the clan would do the same thing to Sasuke as they did to you, and you didn't want – you couldn't stand the thought of them doing that to your own little brother."

Both of Sakura's hypotheses struck too close to home for Itachi's comfort, but this one especially sent a dark shiver down his spine, and he pulled away from her, bringing his hand back to himself. At once, it was worrying and reassuring – worrying that she was coming up with such strong reasoning, and reassuring that she had listened to his words (the closest to the truth that he had ever spoken to anybody) and given them serious thought. If Sakura considered the bigger picture…

It made Itachi wonder, fleetingly, why she was trying so very hard to justify his actions, such horrible actions; actions he would never forgive or come to peace with himself for, when she had originally loathed and condemned him as much as Sasuke had. It was becoming obvious that Sakura had more perceptiveness and depth that he had given her credit for.

…Nothing.

Sakura had to bite her tongue hard to keep her frustrated sigh from escaping, and she stared up at him, feeling more…well, more deep, actual despair than she had ever anticipated. There was no reaction. She had gotten nowhere. Her heart felt weighed down and her throat was tightening and closing over, and why did it matter so much to her? Itachi refusing to disclose any real information was just him signing his own death sentence, so—

Bad choice of words. The thought triggered a reaction in her that she would have never expected. For the first time, she was the one to turn away abruptly, and Sakura was thankful for the coverage that her long hair provided as it swung forward, hiding her face.

She was so pathetic.

Itachi had been the only guy – besides Naruto, Suigetsu, and Jugo, who were like brothers to her, anyway – who had ever treated her nicely. Like a girl; somebody worthy of attention, consideration and care; not just a tool or a convenience to simply have nearby, use when it was suitable, and ignore the rest of the time. And Itachi, the one who was so kind to her, just happened to be the person who had killed almost his whole family, and she was so misguided that she was desperate to find an excuse for him. A reason behind what he did; a justification for his actions. And that was why this was hurting her so much. He was the one who was resisting her attempts to try and make what he had done a little bit less wrong.

And, to be honest, was what she was doing as much for Itachi as it was for her? To make her feel better about potentially growing closer to a mass murderer who had, oh, only done it because it was the right thing to do? Which made everything okay. Of course.

And now she was upset because Itachi wasn't telling her what she so badly wanted to hear…and by the knowledge that he might not be the misunderstood nice guy she thought he was.

She closed her eyes tightly, unwilling to face the truth. Her mind was a mess. She was a mess, end of story.

Sakura lifted her fingers up to run them through her hair, trying to keep herself under control, even though her eyes stung with repressed tears of utter frustration and anger.

Itachi watched her quietly, even though it felt more than a little masochistic to be doing so. His instincts demanded that he reach out and at least touch her shoulder comfortingly, but he knew that it was impossible. He had missed his chance – and that was a good thing. For both of their own good, Sakura had to go back to distrusting him. If things were any different, it would only be more painful in the end.

The elder Uchiha forced himself to turn away, staring at the opposite wall. For a few minutes, there was utter quiet in the cave, broken only by the distant sound of the wind's howling.

…And then he felt something tugging gently on his sleeve, right above his elbow. It was light, plaintive, and insistent, and even though Itachi knew that it couldn't be; it reminded him so powerfully of Sasuke that it made his vision blur momentarily. How many times had he been studying the complex, mind-numbing strategies that his father had given him, in preparation for the jounin or ANBU exams, when his younger brother had come up to him and tried to get his attention like this? "Aniki, will you please do shuriken practice with me now? Please?"

It was foolish of him, but he turned instinctively, so overpowered by the strength of the memory, and instead of Sasuke, it was Sakura who was looking up at him, a strange emotion in her expressive, red-rimmed gaze. At first, she opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something, and then closed it again, looking at him as if she was evaluating some unknown quantity written all over his face.

…The pieces clicked into place, and she blinked, confused. It was elementary, really, and in reflection, Sakura was surprised that she hadn't realized it sooner. If she was developing some kind of…weakness, attachment, whatever you wanted to call it, to Itachi…well, it stood to reason, considering his actions, that he might feel the same towards her.

She didn't know how that made her feel, and she didn't even want to think about it. It was a risk Sakura didn't really want to take, but then again, this was her last real hope.

Itachi's heart hammered out a few extra beats as Sakura inched herself even closer to him, much as she had earlier, before reaching out and draping her arms over his shoulders with a long, shaky sigh, turning her head so that her cheek rested against his collarbone, and she felt him stiffen warily.

And then Sakura's nose brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck when she sat up a little straighter, closely followed by the lingering caress of her lips, as she carefully curled one hand around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her.

Itachi stilled completely, his mind ordering him to pull away. This was wrong. Sakura wasn't in her right mind. She was confused, vulnerable, and she obviously didn't know how to deal with her feelings, and he needed to end this immediately.

Even though the two of them had been fighting through snow and ice for the majority of the past day, he still managed to smell good, Sakura noted as she breathed in, parting her lips slightly as she slowly nuzzled against Itachi's neck. She felt his pulse jump dangerously, and suddenly, his hand was cold against her lower back. The touch felt off, somehow, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to hold her tighter or push her away. She didn't feel good about what she was doing. It was cold and manipulative, and perversely enough, it reminded her too much of Orochimaru.

"You know," Sakura said quietly, shoving those thoughts away, and she didn't have to try to make her voice sound as pensive and almost regretful as it did. The words weren't too elegantly phrased, but she just needed something that would push the right buttons, leading him to the reaction she wanted. "…I…I know it's wrong, but I kind of wish things had been different." She stopped, trying to calm herself. This was veering dangerously away from the realm of skilled persuasion to the area of spilling-my-guts-to-Itachi.

Sakura gulped, stroking the back of his neck in an attempt to release some of the stress she felt. "I – I just…well, if you were…if you hadn't – I think that I might have been able to really like you."

The last sentence was mumbled and nearly inaudible and she could only hope that it had conveyed the right meaning – she couldn't have gone out and said 'if you only had a good reason for killing your whole family, I think I would let myself fall for you', after all.

There was a bit of a delayed reaction before the words sunk in, and when they did, Itachi felt roughly as if an icy hand had locked around his heart, threatening to squeeze it for a pulp. The implications of all she had said shook him to the core, and this time, he knew what would happen between them if he told her the truth. And, kami help him, because it was dangerous and irrational and borderline unethical, but he wanted it – more than he had ever wanted anything else. Itachi could hardly believe that he was thinking this way about his own younger brother's girlfriend – if that was what Sakura was to Sasuke – but it was undeniable.

Itachi closed his eyes, lowering his head until his lips brushed the top of Sakura's head, and he felt a slow, shaky breath escape him. His self-control was wavering dangerously, as it never had before, and—

I have given you so much, Sasuke. Surely you won't begrudge me this one single act in return.

The only warning Sakura had was the slight tug of her hair as Itachi pulled her upwards, and before her eyes could even widen in shock, his lips were pressed against hers, and he was kissing her, long and hard.

Her reaction was immediate and reflexive, and Sakura gasped, sliding her hands down to his shoulders as she tried to push him away and pull her head backwards at the same time. It didn't seem to have much of an effect, though. Itachi had run his hands through her hair so that they were cradling the back of her neck, while his thumbs gently traced the delicate line of her jaw, and even though the hold wasn't painful in the least, he was strong, and it was difficult to break. Despite his apparent refusal to let go of her – she didn't even know if Itachi had felt her attempt at resistance – the kiss wasn't at all forceful, demanding, or aggressive. It felt good…gentle and passionate all at once, and so intense and focused that it felt like he was dehydrated to the point of being near death, and she was his own personal oasis.

It scared her; how meticulously and painstakingly he was trying to coax her into responding to him, and more than that, how close she was to giving in. Sakura knew what would happen if she let her guard down for even a second – it would be like her dream, heart-melting and incredible, and she remembered the happiness and the feeling of being so loved—

Against her will, her body relaxed somewhat, and without realizing what she was doing, Sakura instinctively reached up, brushing her hand against Itachi's cheekbone tenderly, before letting her fingers tangle in his silky hair as she changed the angle of the kiss, practically falling toward him and parting her lips slightly. She felt the soft sound, almost a purr, that started in his chest as much as she heard it, and he slid his hands down her back in a slow caress, pulling her more fully into his arms as he did so. She liked the way Itachi touched her: slowly and lingeringly, like he couldn't get enough, and she was something that would vanish within a matter of moments.

She wanted her mind to be quiet, for the vehement protests to stop; for it to let her enjoy the first real kiss she'd ever experienced. There was so much emotion and tenderness in it that it broke Sakura's heart. This was what she had dreamed of when she was younger. This was what she had always wanted from—

Her body stiffened, and Sakura's fingers' grip in Itachi's hair relaxed until her hand fell, limp and lifeless, to his shoulder. No, part of her pleaded, desperate to forget. Sasuke had no place here. For once, she wanted to do something for her own sake, without having Sasuke at the forefront of her mind.

Itachi continued kissing her thoroughly and almost desperately, curling his hand over one side of her face and tilting it up towards him as if he was trying his best to elicit the same kind of reaction from her as he had before, and she tried. But her rational mind was gaining control again, screaming at her to stop and making each gesture more and more halfhearted, and finally Sakura gently but insistently pushed at his chest and shoulders, making it clear that she didn't want this anymore. No matter what else one could say about Itachi, she trusted that he would never utterly disregard her feelings.

When he finally, slowly and obviously regretfully pulled away, she turned her head to the side and looked at the floor, unable to reconcile what was going on inside her: the burning desire to simply fling herself back into Itachi's arms, her conscience be damned, and the wave of self-condemnation that had suddenly overcome her. Sakura didn't consider herself the most outstanding kunoichi or label herself as one of the prettier girls, and even though she knew that she at least had her intelligence, pitted against someone like Shikamaru or even Temari, she didn't even have that as an advantage. Her intelligence and her logic were always in conflict with her compassion. She was just an average person – in her own eyes, her only truly exceptional quality had always been her faithfulness; her loyalty…whatever you wanted to call it.

Now, she didn't even have that anymore.

"Sakura."

Itachi's quiet voice, combined with his light touch of her limp hand, got her attention, and she glanced back up at him wearily. He looked removed and almost resigned, and the pink-haired kunoichi couldn't even begin to guess why.

Sakura's sudden passivity disturbed him somewhat, but Itachi made himself discard thoughts of that nature. He had indulged in his moment of weakness; got his…fix, so to say. For a few minutes, he had been able to pretend. He had gotten it out of his system, so now, it was time to do what was necessary, regardless of his own personal feelings about it.

When Itachi's dark gray eyes slowly bled into crimson punctuated by three pinwheels, Sakura felt her mind go numb with instinctive, overwhelming terror.

Oh, god. The Mangekyou Sharingan – she recognized it by Sasuke's description, and in spite of her earlier words about Itachi not being the person she thought he was and the whole incident where he actually refused to take somebody's life, Sakura felt her eyes widen, and she willed chakra to her fist, trying to force herself to lift it and slam it into Itachi's face, but her trembling muscles refused to obey. She was literally paralyzed with fright. She had seen what the Sharingan could do firsthand, and it was horrible – but she'd never had it turned on her; not even by Sasuke. Her mind started spouting lists of what the Mangekyou could do automatically, in the only defense mechanism that it new. Countless torture genjutsu, painful death by incineration…

The expression of pure, undiluted fear in her eyes was difficult to bear, but Itachi reached out nevertheless, locking his hand around her limp, unmoving wrist and pulling Sakura closer. He exerted more force than usual to deal with the fact that she had buried the nails of her left hand into the cold stone of the cave's floor – the sound of the tips of her fingernails scratching and breaking against the stone was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of his neck – until they were perfectly eye-to-eye. She snapped her head down, flinching visibly, but Itachi gripped her chin as gently as possible, forcing her to look at him. He could only hope that Sakura would not close her eyes, as prying her eyelids open would be unpleasant for both of them.

He was exceptionally skilled at this particular usage of the Sharingan - inducing a unique brand of hypnosis that involved suggesting actions and thoughts to the opponent through simple eye contact. It was a distasteful technique, though; one that Itachi tried to avoid unless it was absolutely imperative.

It only took a few seconds of eye contact for Sakura's vision to blur…everything became indistinct and almost completely dark, save for the crimson light of the Sharingan. The choking panic rose into her chest and throat with astonishing speed, and Sakura lashed out immediately, slamming her fist into his chest. The impact was stunning, but Itachi caught her wrist, pushing it back to her side. "Stay still," he ordered, layering the complex genjutsu even thicker, and Sakura stopped moving at once, staring up at him confusedly.

Itachi paused, momentarily unsure of how to proceed. Suggesting thoughts was always a little more complex, and Sakura would be a difficult case, as she was particularly strong-willed.

He increased the concentration of his chakra even further, and Sakura's forehead creased into a troubled frown. "Listen to me," Itachi said quietly, and even though he detected the slightest amount of resistance, she still nodded once, her body language receptive. He moved even closer, trying to convey how imperative this was by the intensity of his tone. "…Think of this as a dangerous game, Sakura, one that you have no role in and no real understanding of. You are just a powerless pawn who happens to have ended up on the wrong side of the board."

Her lips twisted unhappily, and for the first time, Itachi was pleased at seeing such a reaction.

"…You have to stay out of it," he told her softly, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, tucking a disheveled lock of hair behind her ear, and letting the touch linger at her temple and cheekbone. "You know nothing, and that is how it should be. You have absolutely no influence. Nothing you can ever do, say, or think will change the outcome of the game…of what is destined to happen. It was predetermined a long time ago. Focus all your energies on returning to the other side of the board, where you are supposed to be…where your loyalties lie."

He formed the thoughts and images and ideas to correspond with the words within the genjutsu with so much clarity that her mind could never overcome it, and Sakura, still looking deeply upset, nodded several times. Still, Itachi hesitated briefly before releasing the technique. Doing this…well, it meant the loss of any possibility between him and—

There was never any chance of that to begin with, an inner voice told him cruelly.

Itachi closed his eyes once, and when he opened them again, his eyes were free of the Sharingan. He watched Sakura warily, and after a few moments, she sat up straighter, looking around with renewed awareness.

Sakura blinked a few times, feeling a little lost. The threads of her mind were scattered and confused, and it took her a little while to remember what had just happened. Itachi had told her that…when he killed the clan…he had been doing what he felt was right.

But

What Itachi felt was right for whom? Himself, or Sasuke?

Her lips parted, but the question died in her throat, and no matter how hard she concentrated, the thought refused to form again. It had just been there for a fraction of a second.

Where was she going to go from here, with this new information? Should she start leading Itachi back to Sasuke? A faint, unexplainable mental image drifted into mind: she and Itachi, standing alone on one side of a chessboard, with Sasuke, Suigetsu, Jugo, and Karin waiting on the other side. As she thought of it, Sasuke advanced two steps, and she saw herself grabbing Itachi by the hand, trying to pull him back to the other side…making him meet Sasuke in the middle.

Sakura drew her knees to her chest, wrapping both arms around them as a troubled sigh worked its way free of her throat. What was wrong with her head? She was still warm, but she felt cold on the inside. Something was…off. Undoubtedly she'd be able to think more clearly in the morning.

Sakura subtly glanced over at Itachi. He was sitting a few feet away, still not looking at her, and despite the Akatsuki cloak that he wore, he was still shivering a little. The pink-haired kunoichi looked down at herself uncertainly. She was as warm as a furnace, so—

No, her mind told her firmly. You heard him. He thought murdering his entire family was right. There is no justification for that.

She closed her eyes slowly, unable to deal with how unsettled she suddenly felt.


As the next week proceeded, Sakura eventually deduced that Itachi was actually leading them back to Rain. She fiddled with her radio compulsively whenever she got a few minutes to herself, but she could hear nothing but static. It was likely that the blizzard had tampered with the original units. This was frustrating, especially combined with her newfound, almost desperate need to find Sasuke and lead Itachi to him as soon as possible, but Sakura figured that, as Sasuke's priority was to find Itachi, he would probably try and head up to the Akatsuki base in Rain as well, so they were likely heading in the same direction.

The thought gave her a strange feeling of excitement, mixed with a deep, irrational foreboding. Something subtle and elusive was telling her that this was not what she really wanted to happen, but those thoughts never flitted through her mind for longer than a fraction of a second, and never long enough for her to grab onto and follow them. It was unusual, but Sakura just figured that it was her subconscious, blinding her logic with the usual emotional entreaties.

Besides, there were other things that could be responsible for her unshakable feeling of constant, spine-chilling apprehension. It always felt like Itachi was watching her out of the corner of his eye. Always, no matter what innocuous thing she was doing. That, combined with the way that the sun never seemed to come out here at the border between Stone and Rain, and the unceasing sheets of slate-gray sleet that blanketed the ground, created a distinctly eerie atmosphere.

Sakura sighed deeply, sliding each of her hands into the opposite sleeve of her sweater in a futile attempt to warm them somewhat. She and Itachi had set up camp for the night against a sheer rock face of intimidating height, so they didn't feel the wind, but the chill in the air was pervasive. She was alone for now – Itachi had disappeared in search of one of the natural hot springs prevalent in this area – but, as they had been doing more and more often, her thoughts returned to him. She had been trying to keep her distance because it was the right thing to do, but the two of them seemed to have reached an awkward deadlock. An impasse, of a sort. Itachi, of course, never elaborated further on their conversation in the cave, and she hadn't pressed the issue. She doubted that anything she could say could cause him to disclose any information.

Still, Sakura woke up every night when Itachi released the chakra barrier and coughed, and even though she didn't dare bringing the issue of his sickness up to him, she had been mentally reviewing as much information as she knew, and locked on to a tentative diagnosis.

But you're still not trying hard enough to get the information about the massacre out of him, something small and insidious whispered disapprovingly, and by the time she blinked, the thought was gone, and she couldn't get it back. Sakura sat in contemplative silence for a while, her back to the small clearing. She felt Itachi's presence before she saw him return, taking a seat next to her. His hair and the clothes he was wearing were both damp, freshly washed, and his skin slightly flushed. Since she had only ever seen him looking deathly pale before, the sight drew her unwilling attention for a little while…along with the way that his damp shirt clung to the lean muscles of his arms and chest. Sakura's eyes traced the lines of his silhouette appreciatively, and it took a great deal of effort not to let herself imagine her hands doing the same thing.

She remembered, back when she was younger – when Team Seven still existed and they would go on missions, Sasuke would always be in charge of stoking a fire at night, while Naruto and Kakashi-sensei foraged for dinner, and she put up the tent. While she and Sasuke were alone, she would always wonder what would happen if she went up to him and hugged him, pressing herself against his back and draping her arms around his shoulders. She'd never been brave enough to try; anticipating rejections like being roughly shrugged off and called annoying.

Involuntarily, Sakura envisioned doing that to Itachi, and her arms and chest began to tingle pleasantly at the thought of being pressed up against him like that. She wondered what his damp hair would feel like if she pressed her forehead to the nape of his neck and just rested it there. Somehow, to her surprise, she couldn't imagine that Itachi would ever reject her as rudely as Sasuke would.

…Or, if he would even reject her at all.

"Three miles due north," Itachi stated emotionlessly, breaking the silence, and Sakura nearly jumped. His eyes were fixed on the rapidly darkening sky, but she had the feeling that he had caught her in the act of staring at him like…well, like a teenage girl faced with an almost indecent amount of eye candy.

Her face flooded with heat, and the pink-haired kunoichi rose hastily. "I'll go, then," she blurted, before practically fleeing from their campsite. She was suddenly furious at herself, but why? For the past two and a half years, the only guys she had been around were Sasuke, Suigetsu, and Jugo. She had anticipated from the beginning, after seeing their constant feuding, that Suigetsu and Karin would eventually grow tired of the unresolved sexual tension and finally hook up, and Jugo…well, he was probably the nicest guy she knew, but Sakura couldn't think of him in a romantic sense. Sasuke was the only one for her. She hadn't even allowed herself to like anybody else since she had been, what, five years old? She had deluded herself into thinking that was normal, that it was true love, but…

The hot springs looked promising, and there was a nearby stream where she could wash her clothes and underwear. Sakura stripped everything off with quick, anxious movements, washing them thoroughly, before laying them out on the rocky streambed to dry, and slipping into the hot springs so that she faced an oddly-shaped rocky outcrop. She was just attracted to Itachi physically, because – because…

Well, it was like she had been eating ramen her whole life, and suddenly, she was faced with a platter of delicious, perfectly-seasoned shrimp tempura. Even if the tempura was bad for her; even if she was allergic and it'd make her break out in hives, she still wanted to try it. Just once.

(Try it? Do you mean sink your teeth into it, run your lips over it, tangle your fingers in it and touch it everywhere, wrap yourself around it and start unbuttoning your shirt and see what it does to you in return--)

…It was the novelty that made it so attractive.

Sakura groaned aloud, sinking further into the blissful heat of the natural springs. It was an awful metaphor, one that did nothing to convey the depth and complexity of the situation and her feelings. As a matter of fact, it was one probably used by philandering husbands all over the world.

Great.

Sakura closed her eyes, unwilling to think on the matter further, and soaked for a long time, basking in the warmth.

When she finally opened her eyes again, a little languidly and her vision blurred somewhat from her impromptu nap, she received a little bit of a shock: it was completely dark, and the small, cool things that she felt touching her arms and top of her head were tiny bits of sleet.

Her head snapped to the side, reflexively searching for her clothes. Shit.

They were still soaking wet, having been caught in the sleet downpour, and bitterly, Sakura wished she'd had the foresight to hang them on the branches of the tree that sheltered this spring. Sitting under it, she had only felt a few drops of sleet, while away from its shelter, the ground was coated in a thin layer of the snow-rain mush.

She turned around, sighing with exasperation—

--and froze, her eyes widening to the size of bottlecaps.

Sitting, approximately two feet from her head, was Itachi's Akatsuki cloak, neatly folded and, when she edged out of the springs enough to reach out and touch it, warm and dry.

Oh, what the fuck. Sakura didn't know whether to be grateful because Itachi had just been considerate enough to save her from the health risk of wearing freezing cold, wet clothes – or a mix of enraged and severely discomfited that he had been within two feet of her while she had been sleeping and naked. Her body was pretty much hidden by the water and it wasdark outside, but…still. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

Grudgingly, she pulled herself out of the hot springs, decided to risk putting on her soaked underwear, and then plodded over to the folded cloak, shivering hard as she did so, before lifting and pulling it over her a little awkwardly. The warmth it provided was instantaneous and incredible, and it covered her from about neck to toe. The lining was made out of silk, and it felt odd against her almost bare body, making Sakura fidget as she checked the clasp on the thing. Granted, it was immature, but she couldn't work her mind around the fact that she was nearly naked and wearing what Itachi wore on himself almost every hour of every damned day. It even smelled like him, and the thought made every square inch of her body tingle with renewed awareness; so much that she wanted to curl up into herself and give an entirely pleasurable shiver.

The walk back to the campsite was longer than she remembered, but it finally came into view through the brief layer of trees. There was a large fire burning, and Itachi sat across from it, looking deeply immersed in whatever he was reading. However embarrassing it was to admit it, the sight stole Sakura's breath away for a moment. The play of the firelight and shadows against his face only served to highlight his achingly handsome features even more, but it wasn't that that'd drawn her attention so.

Itachi just looked so…peaceful. Contemplative. The muscles of his face were relaxed and at rest, and when they were like this, she could see that his features and expression were naturally gentle and kind, completely unlike the tense eyes-narrowed almost-glare that she was used to. The book really seemed to draw his attention; his shoulders were bent somewhat over it, making this the first time she had seen him display less-than-perfect posture, and as she watched, the slightest of smiles tugged at his lips for a second as he read what was probably a particularly memorable line.

For the first time, it felt like she was looking at the real thing. No assumed indifference, no face that was entirely, unnaturally wiped clean of emotion, no walled-off, icy inapproachability, no replies that felt forcedly curt or like something was making him stay silent…no pretense, no mask. Just Itachi.

Sakura blinked suddenly, as startled as she would be if someone had just slapped her across the face.

There is no 'real Itachi', Sakura. Nothing that he says or does is a pretense. He is cold and unfeeling and as heartless as anybody could ever be. There is no good reason for killing your family, the voice that had been a mainstay in her mind for the past week or so repeated again. Nobody who could do that is a normal, mentally healthy person. Nobody who could do that deserves to live.

This time, though, those thoughts didn't carry as much weight as they had before, and Sakura's feet carried her forward of what felt like their own accord – but instead of taking a seat across from Itachi, as he had done to her earlier, she sat down as close to him as she could. She felt the questioning look that he directed at the top of her head, but she fixed her gaze onto the fire. She didn't want to go back to her conflicted thoughts about him or about Sasuke. She just wanted to focus on feeling the fire's warmth on her face and inhaling the comforting scent of smoke and ash.

Sakura stared at the fire so long without blinking that her eyes started to burn, and all she could see in it was the red – the deep red, at the base of the fire, the hottest color in the flames, like the color of blood.

Like the Sharingan.

It happened so fast that Sakura could barely comprehend it. She blinked, because she was seeing things and it couldn't be the Sharingan, and in the same instant, she saw Inner Sakura. This wouldn't have been unusual…except for the fact that she hadn't heard even a single peep out of her usually vocal alternate personality in a week…since her conversation with Itachi in the cave…

And that had never happened before.

Her lips parted with shock, and suddenly, Sakura understood. She saw what had happened, in her mind's eye; through her inner self's point of view. How she had tried to confront Itachi and force him to tell her what had happened, and her attempt at persuading him, and how he had reacted to that. The kiss (oh, god, the kiss), and…what he had done to her afterwards. Forcing her to submit to the Mangekyou Sharingan, and the genjutsu that he had put her under. How, with something as simple as eye contact and a few whispered words, he had invaded her thoughts and violated her mind and forced her to think things she didn't want to—

All the breath left her body in a harsh exhalation, and Sakura let her head drop forward, raking her fingers through her wet hair, wondering why it was so hard to breathe in again.

Distantly, she heard Itachi say her name, and it took more self-control than she knew she possessed to temper her reaction. After all, though, she would never find out the truth if she succumbed to the temptation to literally punch a hole through his chest, rip his heart out, throw it on the floor, and stomp on it.

Overstatement, Inner Sakura stated wryly. If you were looking for equal retaliation, you would use a genjutsu to manipulate Itachi's thoughts so that he believed he was hopelessly in love with you.

She still hadn't moved and hadn't responded to him in any way, and Itachi's worry overrode any need for distance. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder tentatively. "Sakura?"

He immediately wanted to wince – his voice was too troubled and far too concerned, but it was enough to get her attention. Sakura looked up at him, forcing a smile that looked a little off-key. "I'm okay. It's just a little…a little headache."

Somewhat unconvinced, Itachi pulled back, feeling tension stiffen in his shoulders. A headache… it was possible that her mind was reacting adversely to the continued presence of his chakra, but he couldn't risk releasing the genjutsu.

Think, Sakura, think, Sakura repeated to herself frantically, fixing her gaze on where the flames leaped into the dark sky. This was actually a beneficial situation. Itachi didn't know that she was no longer trapped by his genjutsu, and she now had the freedom to figure things out for herself…just more subtly than she could have otherwise.

"So," Sakura mused aloud, moving a little closer to him and tilting her head so that it almost rested on his shoulder. "What are you reading?"

Well, he certainly hadn't expected that. Itachi moved hastily, edging away from her and attempting to shut the book of interrelated haiku as quickly as possible. "It is nothi—"

Sakura craned her neck, catching a glimpse of one particular title before the pages fluttered shut, and she gave Itachi her most innocent look. "Brothers? That sounds interesting. What's it about?"

There was nothing suspicious about her words. Her tone was normal: sweet, inquisitive, and just begging to be responded to. Underneath the part of Sakura that was just pure cold, calculating kunoichi, Itachi suspected that her fundamental personality was…well, friendly. One could even call it charming. And, of course her mind, as the more actively scheming and strategizing parts were suppressed by the genjutsu, would only have more innocent topics of conversation and thought to draw from. Besides, Itachi could hardly remember the last time he had talked to anybody besides Kisame about normal, innocuous things.

If he did decide to indulge in conversation with Sakura, it would be harmless, in any case. They would talk about poetry. There was no intrigue; no politics between Konoha and the Uchiha clan. No opportunity to run his fingers through her wet hair and hold her securely as they simply watched the fire and intertwined their fingers together, the implicit message between them that this was something Sasuke would never do. No desire to wrap his arms around Sakura and pull her close and whisper a summary of the haiku anthology in the time that he wasn't nibbling on her ear (sorry, Sasuke).

…Well, more accurately, that particular desire was suppressed enough that there was no danger of it actually coming to pass.

"The title is fairly self-explanatory," Itachi responded quietly, looking down at her small hands. "It is an overarching story, told through haiku from the point of view of the three main characters."

Even though she had vowed not to get distracted, Sakura couldn't deny how unexpectedly pleasant it was just to sit and let Itachi's low, gentle voice wash over her as he talked about things that were, well, normal. "And those would be?"

"Two brothers," he answered cryptically. "…And one woman. Anything further would be giving things away."

It was part of her objective to subtly set him at ease, but Sakura's reaction was genuine, and she couldn't help but laugh out loud, elbowing Itachi in the side. It was such a welcome relief from the perpetual tension she had suffered since leaving Sound, and she knew that he meant it innocently, but there was just something about his voice saying anything that could even possibly be taken as an innuendo, that made her want to giggle. "Ooh, that's hot."

It took Itachi a moment to grasp her meaning and the reason behind her sudden fit of giggles, and when he did, his face warmed a little, in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. Her words created a rather interesting set of mental images, and furthermore, it was obvious that Sakura thought nothing of little gestures like a casual touch and actual, genuine laughter, but to him, they were utterly novel, and almost overwhelming. "…Please, Sakura."

"Sorry," she replied, in a tone that was everything but, and before Sakura fully realized what she was doing, she batted her eyelashes up at Itachi. She'd spent the majority of her life trying to flirt with Sasuke, so she knew that it was basically impossible. He was just so…unreceptive, and with Itachi, it seemed to be the opposite – he was practically begging for it, and he didn't even realize – and it was quickly becoming intoxicating. "If you're into that kind of stuff, though…"

The sheer waves of pure emotion that were practically radiating off her were contagious, and for a single, dizzying moment, Itachi wondered if Sakura was actually flirting with him. Flirting. It had been so long since he had even thought the word or let any similar idea flit across his mind, that it felt like a foreign language. It made him remember being thirteen, and celebrating the Tanabata Star festival in summer; sharing large blue sticks of cotton candy and sweet dango…her favorite, and his.

It had been one of his last good memories in Konoha, before everything went to hell. One of his last good memories, period. It had been the last time he had ever thought something was…fun. Enjoyable. Worth thinking about when times were at their darkest.

The wave of nostalgia was unexpected and nearly overwhelming, and Itachi blinked. It had been so long…he wanted to feel it again, just one more time before he could no longer do so. But had he forgotten how to?

In an involuntary response to the question, proving his own mind wrong, a tiny smirk touched the edges of Itachi's features, making it clear that he wasn't serious. "…Why, Sakura, are you volunteering?" he asked silkily, brushing up against her arm so lightly that it could just have been an accident.

His answer shocked Sakura so much that her jaw actually dropped, making her look like the textbook definition of utterly stunned, and Itachi couldn't help it; a small, amused sound escaped the back of his throat, his lips curving up into a half-smile. It was the closest he could ever get to a laugh, and the instant Sakura figured out that he wasn't serious, she shoved him playfully, momentarily forgetting whom she was with, before dissolving into unrestrained laughter. It felt so nice to do so…she hadn't laughed in what felt like forever. There was never, ever any cause for mirth with Sasuke or around Sasuke or even remotely near Sasuke, and that was not an exaggeration. He had never made her laugh, and needless to say, probably never even dreamed of teasing or playfully flirting with her like this.

When she had finally exhausted herself, Sakura sighed contentedly, and when she glanced up again, smoothing her hair away from her face, she realized with a start that Itachi had been watching her, the expression in his eyes much softer than usual. He turned away immediately, pretending as if he hadn't, and she paused, her fingers getting caught in the ends of her hair. No wonder it'd had such an effect on him…she couldn't imagine that the Itachi indulged in lighthearted moments like this very often.

The thought made an unfamiliar emotion surge up within Sakura: deep pity, mixed with sorrow. What would it be like, to live like that? Without the simple human indulgences of sharing a laugh with a friend…and, she could tell from Itachi's reaction that even the tiny gestures that she took for granted, like a nudge or smile or falling against someone in the middle of a fit of laughter, were foreign to him. He had looked so stunned when she'd done as little as flutter her eyelashes at him, too. He seemed starved of even the most basic kinds of interaction or suggestion of affection, and honestly, to someone as social as she was, she couldn't imagine how awful that must be.

It definitely wasn't the wisest thing to do, but Sakura ignored the part of her that was telling her so as she leaned against Itachi briefly, resting her head on his shoulder. It was comfortable, and as she had predicted, he made no move to shrug her off.

"So," she commented at length, watching the shadows of the flames dance against the dirt. "…Your haiku book isn't really about a sexy threesome, is it?"

"Most definitely not."

"I thought so." Sakura readjusted her positioning a little and leaning closer to him, and for a fraction of a second, his hand rested on her back, steadying her, before he slowly withdrew it. "…Love triangle, I suppose?"

Her words were quiet and a little uncertain, and Itachi hesitated momentarily. "…You could say that, yes."

Sakura nodded in acknowledgement of his words, suddenly unsure of whether she wanted to take the next step or not. "Um…how does it end, then?"

This time, when Itachi put his hand on her back, gently tangling his fingers into her hair, he didn't pull away, and in one of those rare, uncanny moments, Sakura could tell that they were both thinking the same thing. He changed the angle of his head; tilting it so that his cheek pressed lightly against the top of her head. "I'm not there yet," he told her, his voice a little roughened with strain.

For once, this wasn't a manipulative thing. She had no agenda; no ulterior motive, but still, Sakura slid herself closer against his side, moving one of her hands so that it rested over his heart, and turning her cheek so that it pressed against where his shoulder met his chest. "Well, how do you want it to end?" she asked, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the crackle of the embers.

She felt Itachi's breath hitch, and his fingers' grip tightened in her hair so much that it was almost painful. He was silent for so long she thought he was ignoring her, but then he finally spoke again, his tone a little bit less effortlessly calm than usual. "I want the beautiful, well-intentioned, stubborn, and completely, utterly misguided girl to stop playing with fire, because I do not wish for her to get burned."

The first adjective made Sakura's chest tighten, and she was too far gone to stop now. She glanced up; reaching back and curling her fingers around Itachi's ponytail and gently tugging on it once, so that he had no choice but to look at her, even though it was clear that was the last thing he wanted to be doing. "What if she would rather get burned than live in hope of a safe, unsatisfying, impossible life?" she told him quietly, even though part of her was unable to believe that the words had actually escaped the darkest, deepest parts of her subconscious.

Itachi pulled back, looking away from her hastily, and she could see how tense his shoulders were. "Sakura, you do not—"

The dismissal pushed all the wrong buttons, and Sakura bristled visibly, grabbing his hand and pulling it back to her with a violent jerk, until they were practically nose-to-nose, much closer than they were before. "Don't you dare presume," she said quietly, her voice taut with anger as her gaze sought his, "that you know what I want."

They sat like that for another few moments in complete silence, until the embittered sigh finally worked its way free of her chest. Knowing that it was hopeless, but deciding to try anyway, Sakura reached up, brushing an errant lock of hair behind Itachi's ear, and letting the touch linger at his cheekbone. She couldn't help but let her eyes stray to his thin, defined lips, tracing over them as she wished she could do with her fingers, and through her peripherals, she could see his eyes darken several degrees as he watched her watch him.

The sight sent an unfamiliar but distinctly pleasant jolt of feeling through her body, and Sakura fidgeted against the Akatsuki cloak again, feeling the silk and the heavy metal of the clasp press up against her chest. Unconsciously, she moistened her dry lips, liking the sensation of Itachi's eyes following the movement. She moved closer, slowly and tentatively, so that their noses were just a fraction of an inch away from touching, and Itachi closed his eyes with a ragged exhalation, but didn't withdraw. It made sense – how much temptation could one person withstand?

"You and I both know that the girl isn't as misguided as you make it sound," Sakura told him quietly, and this time, much as she had in the cave, she let her fingers brush against his impossibly soft hair. "…And besides, I think she likes playing with fire."

Itachi didn't even have time to fully finish uttering her name, in the process of drawing away, before Sakura used her fingers' newfound leverage in his hair to clumsily pull him back to her, and their parted lips collided with an uncomfortable impact that made both of them flinch.

Itachi recovered first, and to Sakura's pleasant surprise, he kissed her back just as passionately, slipping one hand behind her neck to support her, while letting the other one slide down the right side of her body, tracing over her ribcage to her hip and back up again. She gave a muffled sigh of appreciation, reaching up and wrapping both arms around his neck. She could feel and taste him against her with every tentative movement of their lips and tongues, and it felt so good. So…human; as if the barely restrained passion in the way that he was touching her wasn't enough proof of that. Itachi nipped at her bottom lip enough to make her whimper, then, but soothed it in the next moment with a gentle brush of his tongue against the sore area. It made Sakura quiver, and she twisted against him, trying to get as close as possible, and pouring as much of what she was feeling into the kiss as she could. It made her happy, and she wanted, needed, him to feel it as well.

She would never admit it to anybody, but she hadn't liked making out so much when it was her and Sasuke, which had worried her somewhat. It was supposed to be mindblowing and impossible to get enough of…and, well, her first two experiences certainly hadn't been. At all.

Sakura had been afraid that she was doing something wrong, but now it was becoming clear that maybe, it just hadn't been with the right person. Maybe it was just the presence of actual emotion behind the contact – this didn't have the desperation that their last kiss had, but instead, a dizzying mix of passion and hunger and discovery that made her lightheaded – but every one of Itachi's touches made her arch against him restlessly, and it was hard to pull away from him for as long as it took to breathe. Sakura wished the two of them were standing up or something – that would make it easier for him to touch her in places besides her back. What the two of them lacked in expertise, they made up for in enthusiasm, anyway, and…

Itachi drew back for a fraction of a second, staring at her through darkened eyes that were an even stormier shade of gray, and he rubbed his thumb against her left hipbone in an achingly slow circle. "Sakura…"

She didn't anticipate the rush of heat that flooded through her at the very sound of how he said her name, and Sakura leaned closer, trying to press a kiss into the sensitive skin of his neck. She'd heard enough of Karin's gleeful rants on the topic to have a decent approximation of what she was doing, and even though they had exasperated her at the time, now, she was kind of looking forward to hopefully pushing Itachi over the edge as much as he was threatening to do for her.

What Sakura didn't expect was the gentle but insistent push against her shoulders, moving her backwards. What? It didn't make sense. Was he…?

The cold, humiliating feeling of rejection was all too familiar, and Sakura looked down at the dirt floor, unable to believe what had just happened. Her first, instinctive reaction was one of hurt; all the warm, pleasant feelings disappeared as quickly and abruptly as if a blanket had been ripped off her, exposing her to the cold. How had she been so stupid? But…it had really seemed like Itachi had liked it as much as she had…

Maybe some of her emotions showed on her face, because Itachi reached out like he wanted to touch her comfortingly, but then he pulled his hand back, as if he didn't trust himself. "This is wrong," he said abruptly, his voice a little too loud for the quiet night, and even though it was bad of her, Sakura liked seeing how sad his eyes were.

It wasn't what she was supposed to say in response, but the words somehow made their way free anyway. The more emotional, intense, crippling wave of remorse would hit shortly, but for now, Sakura just made herself acknowledge it as calmly as she could. "…I know."

They stared at each other awkwardly, Sasuke's unseen, unspoken presence almost tangible in the air between them.

Finally, Itachi reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers against her cheekbone very lightly, as if he was afraid she would burn him – so different from their heated touches of only a few minutes ago. "I want to," he said, quietly, cryptically. "More than you could ever imagine."

Want to…what? Keep kissing her? Tell her the truth?

Sakura felt herself incline her head a fraction of an inch, somewhat mechanically. "I understand," she lied, feeling her heart fracture a little. Rejection was rejection, and it never hurt any less with each successive time it happened. And it wasn't resentment for Sasuke that she was feeling. It couldn't be.

They sat, two feet apart, until she couldn't deal with the loneliness anymore. She inched closer to Itachi, resting her head against his shoulder wearily. "Still wrong, I know," she whispered, half expecting him to dislodge her.

Instead, he carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her securely. "But less so."

"Yeah, I guess."

They watched the fire for a little while, leaning against the sheer rock face. Eventually, Itachi dislodged himself, and Sakura watched detachedly as, with a few hand seals, withdrew one of the sleeping rolls, the larger of the two, from the summoning scroll that he kept in his pocket.

He didn't invite her, and she didn't ask him, but by silent mutual agreement, they found themselves tangled together in the warmth of the thick woolen blankets. Sakura faced the fading fire, her back pressed against Itachi's chest. She had never before been so thankful for the compartmentalization skills that all kunoichi had. The realization of what she had done would hit her sometime in the middle of the night, twisting her dreams into nightmares, and she'd likely wake up with tears on her cheeks and all twisted up into a ball of self-hatred, but for now, with Itachi's chin resting on her head and one of his arms wrapped around her protectively, she felt as close to all right as possible.

Even though Sakura knew that she was the one who probably held the answers in this particular situation, she spoke anyway, turning her cheek closer against her pillow. "Where do we go from here?"

The words came out softer and more plaintive-sounding than she would have liked, and after a few moments, she felt Itachi stroke her hair gently. "I have no idea," he responded quietly, and probably more honestly than anything he had ever said to her in the past.

Sakura leaned into his touch wordlessly, watching the fire's dying embers lose a little bit more of their glow.


to be continued


Two things: Firstly, thank you to the amazing SwiftKick for being kind enough to read this over. Secondly, it is likely that I will not be able to update next Tuesday, as next week is finals week, and I have a bunch of long, obnoxious, difficult tests to prepare for. I'm sorry. :(

As always, you know that I love hearing what you guys have to say. Any and all feedback would make me a very happy camper, and give me something to tide me over the suffering of finals week. That would be very much appreciated. :)