Here is chapter eleven and only three weeks from chapter ten :D I am doing better~ Anywho's this chapter is not beta'd either. Unfortunately my beta has been very busy. So if anyone spots typos please let me know. I try my best but I inevitably miss some.
Thank you to the anonymous review who left another review :D I am so happy you were that excited about it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: A CROW REMEMBERS
My head is a mess. What thoughts I manage to string together are desperate and weak; coated in fear and oiled with apprehension, turning word by word as I limp out of Pein's mansion. Rubber soles provide no traction against the marble and twice I feel my feet skid across the outside steps, sending my injured body sliding down several before I catch myself.
My carelessness only adds further damage to my injuries. I need to tend to my leg. I know this yet fear keeps me moving, keeps the agony and pain at bay as I stumble towards Konan's car. I cannot stop or Pein will find me. Konan is dead, that at least, went as planned. She may be dead but Pein is alive. He will come for me.
I must see Sasuke. He has to be safe. Nothing can harm him, it can't. The sharp pain of my shoulder colliding with a metal door frame shifts my focus back to the present, anchoring my mind as I let my body slide into the driver's seat, blood soaking the leather interior immediately. My vision has begun to blur, something I notice only after my head collides with the mirror. Driving will be an experience I think with humor. Pulling down the wires behind the steering wheel I force them together, jump starting the vehicle. It roars to life and I am off.
Six miles down the road and a sudden spasm in my leg has me grabbing the steering wheel. I don't dare look down. The skin frayed and stretched over bites marks is burning strong enough to remind me that I am not immortal. If I wait much longer to get the wound bandaged up I will inevitably break my promise with Sasuke. That cannot do. I must return alive to him. My good knee holds the steering wheel in place as I tear the sleeve off my jacket. A few more rips and it is enough to tie up my leg. Stitch's will have to wait. It has been nearly eight minutes from when I shot Pein, amiable enough time for him to recover and ready another one of his body doubles.
I am halfway home before I realize I do not remember driving the last few miles. Black edges my vision, my blood seeping out; causing my symptoms no doubt. I pull over to a small section of dirt and rubble, parking the vehicle.
Hopefully, I will be close enough now for Hatake to pick up my signal. I used the code I discussed with him before so he will know to retrieve the tracking device from my office. I just need to stay alive until then. Sasuke is my last thought before my world flickers away and nothing is real anymore.
We are seated at the kitchen table. Sasuke is across from me, his fingers taping the wood surface in thought. Somewhere in my head I know that this moment is a memory. He is wearing one of the high collared blue shirts I disliked on him. He had altered the original design to sit cover his neck, a trademark of nearly all his clothes now. Started after I made a few remarks about how beautiful I found that particular part of him.
Fingers poised purposefully atop the table he stops abruptly, eyes lifting to peek out between his bangs. His lips moody, lifting and falling in the corners. "Itachi," he announces, his voice sad and thoughtful, giving me the emotion his lips hinted at. "What is love?"
I pause in my eating. The fish still on my fork. I set it down atop the plate. "What has brought you to wonder at such a thing?"
"You leave everyday big brother. Sometimes for several days and I am left here alone. If you love me, why do you keep leaving? Why can't I come with you?"
The exasperation at yet another request to leave the home hits me anew, fueled not only by the memory but my own conscious feelings on the matter. Somewhere in the haze I know the memory is simply that; a memory. Yet my emotions mingle and I find it impossible to separate the present from the past.
"Sasuke I cannot take you to work with me. You know this. You will get hurt if you leave."
"It would be worth it—to be with you once in a while. I wouldn't mind."
The meal is forgotten now. I sigh, rising from my seat to walk over to him. He has his head buried in his arms, hiding from me. I gently place my hand atop his arm, my mouth hovering over the exposed ear. "I would go mad if you were harmed. You must know that."
His bangs fall to either side, exposing his eyes as he tilts his head toward me. "Is that what love is then? Doing what is best for someone, even if they don't agree?"
I cannot stop my hand from reaching out, tucking his bangs behind his ear. "For me yes, that is how I show my love."
"I don't understand it Itachi. Love isn't like that for me."
My hand falls to his shoulder, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. "What is your love then, Sasuke?"
"It is always there." He catches my hand, holding it in between both of his as his eyes trace every detail of them. "Burning in me, leaving room for nothing else. Nothing and no one else matters. I would do anything they wanted." I have followed his eyes as they roamed my hands, tracing every scar, every imprint my life has left on me. Suddenly he covers them with his own hands, catching a hold of my gaze. He stares up at me, intensity unmistakable. "Even stay locked up in a house, every day. All day. I'd do that, because he wants me to."
I do not see it coming. What brought him to reach up, grabbing me by tie and pulling me toward him, is unknown to me. Though in truth, I do not mind. His lips are soft and warm as they brush against mine. He does not pause after the first, fleeting, contact. He pushes against me, my feet stumbling back. I have stopped thinking entirely, his intensity burning away all sensation, all thought, that is not centered on him.
After a long, exhilarating minute, he pulls away, his breath coming out in short puffs.
Had…he meant to do this? No, that was a silly question. He knew what he was doing when he kissed me. Why now? We have never kissed, nor done any sort of romantic actions. I knew I desired them, had sense he turned sixteen. For nearly a year and half I had done nothing, burying the desire deep within myself.
"Sasuke?"
He locks his attention on me again. He leans forward, his lips falling on my neck. My heart-rate increases, nearly jumping alive as he kisses along my neck toward my collarbone. If he continues this behavior I will not be able to without the desire to have him. I reach out with my palm, pulling his face up to look at me.
"Sasuke, are you sure you want to continue this? There will be no going back."
He leans into my head, turning his head just enough to kiss the inside of my palm.
"I want to show you Itachi, how much I love you. Let me, please."
His words echo in my head as my mind hazes out, tugging at my legs pulling me to reality in a blur of pain and discomfort. Hatake is there in front me, his knees against the edge of the car, nice khaki pants dyed red from my seeping leg cradled in his hands.
He gives me stern look, muttering about irresponsible business partners and tugs harder at the bandage being wrapped around my wound. Hatake has found me. I will live. A sudden spasm of my leg has my vision swimming in a myriad of color and with a groan I feel my mind enter delirium once again.
Sasuke is there atop the couch, his legs drawn up against this body as he stares out across the room. His chin fits perfectly between his knees, his hands flat against the smooth red finish of the couch. Like discarded bullets, paint dot the tiled surface. Brushes, missing large chunks of their wooden handle, are percasioulous strewn across the room. A mass of half painted canvas's, depicting some sort of house, are scattered around the studio. Several have gashes cut through their center, some hacked from the side.
He sits there staring at it all.
I stand in the doorway, stunned into immobility, watching him stare at the mess he made. My suitcase handle held loosely, the smooth surface of its leather a vivid sensation in what I know is a memory. I cannot speak. Only stand there and stare.
"I had a dream Itachi."
I say nothing, I can't. My tongue is still stuck to the bottom of my mouth, dry and fat as I wonder at what dream—what subconscious emotion—could have generated conflict strong enough for him to destroy so much.
"You were there big brother. You always seem to be. Mom and dad were laying on the floor, bleeding out from wounds on their backs and legs. Father was cursing you and calling you a traitor as he struggled to breath. I sat in the corner, watching it all as you killed them."
I forced myself to breath, to keep the panic from rising up and suffocating me. It is difficult. My mind seizing up—holding me in a panic. He hadn't remembered had he?
"I…" he eyes lose focus, blurring as he stares out at the room. "I was happy. Happy that you weren't killing me, only them." He brought his empty gaze to me, eyebrows furrowing in horror. "Why would I be happy Itachi? Why would I want to live after everyone dies?"
I am next to him now, my arms circling around his shaking body. His tears are wept and cold as he sobs into my shirt. Had he been struggling with this all day? Oh Sasuke. I grip the spikes of his hair tenderly, holding him against me. "It's okay Sasuke, it was just a dream. Its not wrong to want to live. It is okay to survive. It's okay."
My eyes opened, the words from my memory a soft oath on my lips. Its okay to survive. Hatake stirs next to me, his eyes snapping open as I rustle in the bed, blankets shoved off of me in my struggle to sit. His hands reached out, pulling me up to a seated position. "Easy there Itachi, don't over do it. You had several wounds in your chest. Not as deep as your leg but bad. What mess did you get yourself into this time?"
I groaned, my head heavy, my thoughts muddled and thick as I forced myself to try and think—to speak. "Sasuke," I manage to whisper, the pain jolting through me in agonizing stabs.
"Itachi you can't—" He is speaking but my mind is hazy, unable to follow his words. Is he speaking again? "-followed you-"
His words filter through my hazy mind, distorted and complicated until all I hear are the words, "followed him" and in a rush, I shove at him, sending him toppling over his chair to land roughly on the floor. "Sasuke."
Hatake has his hands against my body now, forcing me down. I feel a large needle stick into my thigh and suddenly my world is black once more.
My hands are raw and bleeding, cuts along the back starting to blister. Father picks his sword back up.
"Good job Itachi. Another few sessions and you will beat me."
He does not look at me. He stalks past, the sword in his hand shaking.
Why? I look at my own sword, the blade a glistening sliver light in the room. Do I scare him?
Mother won't look at me anymore either. Father as well. Did I scare…everyone?
Father has left the room. I follow him out, my mind still numbed by his expression.
"'Big brother? You are done!"
I look up up toward the porch steps. Sasuke stands up in a hurry, rushing over to me. His eyes widen in delight, his smile almost infectious.
He is looking at me. His eyes lock onto mine and I know, he is not scared of me. Would he be though, if he saw what I could do?
I step closer, my body moving on its own. "Sasuke, what is it you need?"
He looks down, his face a soft pink of embarrassment. "C-C-can, well," he stammers for a moment before stopping, suddenly looking up at me. "You look like you need a hug. A-and you have an owie. Can I kiss it better?"
Kiss it better? I pull my hands out from around my back, holding them in front of me. Gashes along the side are bleeding again. The small nicks and cuts around the fingers have slowed. The scabs around my knuckles have broken open again. Every week I have less injuries. Every week I get better. I close my eyes, imagining a day when there won't be any. Would he be scared of me at that point?
"'Tachi?"
My eyes open to his small hands reaching out around my own. He little lips lean down, kissing each cut and scrape, kissed so gently I feel only the fleeting softness of his lips against my hands. A kiss to heal a wound I hadn't even known existed. I wonder though, which wound? The physical or the emotional?
I let my arms wrap around Sasuke, pulling him into a hug, one he returns with the gusto joy of a child. If he does not fear me now, perhaps there is hope. If I act, I can ensure he does not ever advert his gaze. I can control that much at least, can I not?
Sasuke looks up at me, his mouth opens to speak. His words are lost on me as the memory blurs, fuzzing until I am outside his bedroom.
The doorknob is splintered apart, blood dripping into the room. My eyes follow the trail to Sasuke in the middle of the floor, a knife to his throat. The guard has the knife pressed tight, a rivet of blood dripping along the edge of the blade. He is glaring up at me, screaming some demands my mind does not process.
There is a bang and the gun in my hand is smoking. I do not remember shooting him, not now in my hazy dream or back then. The guard is dead, blood seeping out of the hole in his black cap.
Sasuke runs to me screaming. Him too, I do not hear. I stare at him however, my eyes burrowing into his red cheeked face. He could have died. The guard could have killed him. Sasuke. My baby brother, the only creature in the house to look at me without cringing. If he died, what would become of me? If all saw me as a monster, is that not what I would become? A monster.
If the guard wanted to hurt him, who else desired him harm? My eyes dart to the body, to the gun in my hand. If I had not known how to hit a target, to shoot a gun, Sasuke might have died. What else did I need to know to keep him safe?
Father's shadow behind me is a vacuum, pulling all my thoughts into its depth until this memory too, fades into black.
"You are talented."
The words are silk on a sheet of paper. I turn to look at the snake—pale and dark and so vile he can be nothing else—and nod my head in acknowledgment. I could speak but that would betray my dislike. He just laughs. He leans against the wall watching me shoot bullets into straw. That night I showered twice but could not wash off the feel of his stare.
He is there again the next day and the next. It is only the fourth day, as I walk by that I see him with Sasuke. My brother is laughing gleefully and it is this sound that has me stepping toward him subconsciously. I stop abruptly as I realize who is there with my brother. That it is he who entertaining Sasuke. I swallow the anger building on my tongue. Shoving it down and aside I make myself remember that I am in control now.
"Sasuke," I call.
Yellow eyes and a smirking mouth and I know that this will be the end. Know even has the pudgy hands of my brother close around my shirt that this will always be about me.
"Itachi are you alive? What did you do? I can't—damn it! Kisame I need you over here!"
Mother is dressed in her best formal kimono, the satin silk shimmering red underneath the soft candle light of the dining room. She adjusts her position, a rustles of fabric as she leans forward with the tea. My father is across from her, his hands tight and the frown so frequently in place has become a grim line.
"Is that your condition then?"
The stranger across from him is tall and thin, his sleek black hair pulled in a woven bun atop his head. White embroidered snakes wind down the golden fabric of his yukata. He is old but remarkably beautiful still, his eyes tinted almost gold by the makeup around them. No matter how much make up he attempts to hide behind there is no disguise effective enough to hide a serpent.
"Yes. If you want the funding to move out of exile that is what I require. Do you find them acceptable?"
My father tightens his hands, flicking glances my way in a visible show of unease. He does not like them but perhaps not for the obvious reasons. After all, at this point, he feared me and what I was capable of. If he did this, accepted these terms, he knew how I would react.
My fathers head dipped down with a sigh before slowly nodding his agreement. My hands tightened as I gripped the blue silk of my yukata. How dare he? Nothing was worth this. Not the clan, not him or his pride. Nothing. I knew the pressure he faced from the other clansmen but still. It wasn't worth the price.
The stranger chuckled, tea cup setting down atop the table with a soft click. "Excellent. I will be back in two weeks' time to retrieve him. Have Sasuke ready."
The stranger rises from his seated position, two of his hooded bodyguards immediately falling in line behind him. No more words are spoken and without so much as a trifled protest he walks out the door. I wait until I hear their footsteps exit the home before I stand, turning on my father.
"You would trade Sasuke for your graceful return to society?" I demand, fury keeping my hands in tight balls against my thighs.
"I like this no better than you do Itachi but that was his terms. I will not hand over you so Sasuke it is."
"Why not me?" I demand. "have too much time and money invested my ability to kill for your clients? Sasuke is too young for something like this. I will go if you insist on giving into that man."
"No!" My father snaps at me, his hand slamming down atop the table. "You will not do anything. Sasuke is old enough. He will understand. We have no choice, can't you see that?"
"He may understand Father but I do not." I bite back the retort I so desperately wanted to give, the warnings I wanted to snap out at him. Sasuke was not his to give away. Had he been there to quiet the child when he was too helpless to care for himself? Had Father been the one to teach him to crawl? To teach him his first words? To calm his nightmares? No. Father had been absent, off chasing a dream of honor and wealth. Mother had been no better. No. Sasuke was not theirs to give away. He was mine.
I run off to courtyard, stopping as I see a figure in the back. The memory fades and blurs, skipping I know my humiliating defeat at the hands of my deliverer. He is there in front of me, clothed in black and red clouds. He stands tall, hovering over me as I kneel on the ground, my blade several yards to my right. He kneels down, long black hair brushing the ground as he picks my chin up in his hands, sneering down at me.
"You're good. Almost as good as I was at your age. Did your father train you?" he chuckles, shoving my chin away as he stands. "Get up off the ground. The strong never kneel before those weaker than them and," he chuckles again. "Aside from myself there is no one stronger than you."
I do as he commands, my legs quivering underneath me. They are bruised and abused from our fight. I had not lost before, not like this. The bitter taste of defeat leaves me frustrated and angry. "What do you want?" I snap.
"To offer you an alternative. You can't kill your father and everyone here by yourself, no matter how good you think you are. If you'd like I can help you. So long as you help me in return."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I am bored and need some help sending a message to someone. It won't be hard I promise. Just spend a few years doing exactly what you have been taught how to. Or would you rather that precious brother of yours be taken away by Orochimaru?"
The thought of him in the snake's hands leaves me chilled. To have to live on without him, surrounded by nothing but pressure, anger and death…no light to smile at me, no simple love to draw me back to the world of the living…to live on as a monster…
"What message do you need sent?"
Perfect white teeth and the scent of death sends my mind deeper, my world falling again to black.
"Itachi, don't move! Kisame took care of Konan like you asked, its okay. You are safe for now. Hold still! I am getting him, just—just stay here on my bed!"
The room is dark. Sasuke's voice is a whimper beside me. I reach out instinctively coiling my hand around his. He is so small. I feed him but cooking is difficult. How had mother kept up with all of it? I manage rice and some vegetables yet still he is shrinking.
My hands tighten around smaller shaking hands. I will have to ask for help again it seemed. What would he demand now? The island massacre had been more for him than myself. The home he designed and built was perfect and yet, I had paid for it had I not? Three months in and I could no longer count the amount of people I had killed. When would it end? Would it ever? Perhaps he will give me a break. I need to figure out how to handle Sasuke here alone for the weeks he sends me away.
In my anxiety my hands have threaded themselves in-between Sasuke's. The stress of my thoughts are a weight against us both, pressing us into the mattress.
I do not fall asleep again.
Sasuke is next to me, his body heavy with sleep as he slumbers, hands thrown across the pillow. In my hand the pile of papers tremble, a symptom of my lack of nutrition. I needed to eat today, hadn't yesterday, but my mind is stuck on the bold letters in front of me.
Dear Uchiha Itachi,
We congratulate you on your acceptance into ANBU Law School. Due to your external situations we are pleased to work with you through our accelerated online courses…
I had done it. No more weeks away from Sasuke. I could stay here, watch him; like I knew I needed to do. Had to, if we were going to survive. The damp paper in my hand is the only way I know I am crying. Things were going to get better. After three years of madness things were finally going to get better.
I am staring down at the pile of blood around Sasuke and I know things are not better. My hands move on their own, leaving my numb mind behind. I tear off his shirt, searching for the wound. It is on his wrist. Of course it is. Why? Why would he do this? Things had been rough.I knew I had been gone a lot but it could not be helped. Didn't he understand that? It would stop for a while now. Couldn't he wait? I finish tying off the make-shift band-aid around his wound. He will live. The scar will always be there but he will live.
Finally, I breath.
The big red door in front of me is crooked. In my haze this does not seem unusual. Inconvenient but normal. I feel my shoulder collide with one side as I fumble the doorknob open. Cold air and the misty darkness of the night are the only observations that register. Sasuke, he must be so worried. It is already night. A day has passed? Two? My feet fumble, my hands hitting stone steps as I roll down. I have to hurry. Back to Sasuke, before Hatake finds me. He will not understand. No one does.
The haze in my head clears for a moment, long enough for me to recognize that I am home then it begins to slip. I struggle to cling onto reality, searching for anchor. The bedroom. Sasuke. I have pushed the door open. I stagger toward the stairs leading to the second floor. I cannot think past much. I need to know he is okay. I must see him.
Sasuke must have heard me. He is at the top of the stairs, standing there; hand atop the railing, pale as ash. I must look frightful to cast his face into such despair. Don't look like that Sasuke. I am still here aren't I? I came like I promised. I am still here.
I vaguely register my head hitting something, my shoulder colliding almost immediately with the wall. The pain is there in my body but I cannot seem to focus on it with Sasuke looking at me, his eyes wide as he rushes down the stairs. I feel his fingers dig into my shoulders, sharp and real in my haze. His grip is tight and frantic. Why is he so scared? I am alive aren't I?
Even in this state I find myself in awe of his beauty. Ivory and smooth like the most perfect porcelain. Is he my doll? Sasori thought so. Deidara too. They are wrong aren't they? My eyes watch his lips, so pink and soft, are moving repeatedly and it is so distracting. He must be talking so I try harder to concentrate. Oh, my dear Sasuke, are you crying? Have…I done this to you? Am I really to blame? Am I reason that you paint with blood? That you scream at night? Is…is this worth it?
No. No. No. No. No.
My actions have not been wrong. I am right. There was no need to cry. I would be alright. I had to be. If I wasn't how would I protect him? I had to protect him. There were so many people who want to harm him. My actions were the correct ones to make. I am not to blame.
I feel him slide under my arm and it confuses me. What is he doing? A tug and a pull and we are moving. Ah, he is pulling me up the stairs. I am having trouble putting my thoughts together and it is frustrating. I must listen; he is speaking. I am not sure what he is saying. I must concentrate. I cannot falter here. I must always be there for Sasuke. I have to. I am the only one he has.
"Hold on big brother, we are almost there. I can help you with this. What happened?" He is still crying. I must do something. My thoughts muddled and slippery as I attempt to put them together. Why can I not think? My arms aren't responding. I must hold him. I must reassure him that everything is okay. I will not falter, not now, not here. There is still too much to do.
I must have spoken aloud; Sasuke is responding to me. "It's okay Itachi, I can help. I am not a kid anymore. Let me help."
We have made it to our bedroom. My mind is slow and only after I feel the bed underneath me that I realize I can no longer feel my right leg. The detail seems unimportant compared to watching Sasuke for signs of further distress.
My precious brother has at last stopped crying, leaving in its wake something foreign yet familiar. What is that look in your eye Sasuke? I find myself needing to laugh. Oh how I wish I still could. He looks so cute. His lips are in frown, his eyes hard and set, so very determined. What is it he wishes to do?
I feel him remove my clothes and hear the soft intake of breath as he sees the wound in my leg. It must be worse than I thought. Perhaps I should have had Hatake take me home after all. Wasn't that the reason I allowed him a glimpse of my sanctuary in the first place? Had Hatake taken me home? A memory of khaki pants and a needle tug at the edge of my mind. I do not understand. Not not anyway.
Sasuke returns—when had he left — with a jumble of items in his hands. I involuntarily hiss as I feel the alcohol wash over my leg. Soon after the gentle tugging of a needle takes away all of my attention. When had he learned to stitch?
"Almost done big brother, hold on, just a little more. I will take care of you."
I feel my consciousness begin to fade. The image of Sasuke cleaning my body off the last I see as I fall into slumber. My thoughts narrowed and focused on the price I was forcing him to pay. This plan had to work. It had to.
X
I wake to the fragrant smell of soup and the unique scent that is Sasuke. My body aches, my leg a lump of a pain, throbbing stronger with each second that I get closer to consciousness. I am not surprised. I did after all, run off before I was healed.
"Brother! You are awake. I know it must hurt but I couldn't find any painkillers." He sounds so frustrated.
"Do not worry yourself Sasuke, I am used to the pain. Is that soup for me?" I ask gently, effectively blocking the pain from my attention. That too, was something I had grown accustom.
Sasuke's eyes light up, his movements quick as he gathers the bowl. I see a spoon in his hand. "Yes, you need to eat. You have been asleep for over a day." I do not have to hear the concern in his voice; I see it in the circles under his eyes. I do not doubt he has spent the whole time awake, at my side.
There is a voice in my head that whispers of guilt, fueled by the selfishness I know I harbor. It is loud this morning, echoing through my mind.
How much will you put him through before you are satisfied? Will it ever be too much?
Hope you liked it. If it is confusing let me know. I tried to fill in the blank parts of their past and give a little hindsight as to why Itachi is the way he is. Again, if it was too confusing please let me know.
ALSO
I really would love some new folk to chat with about Naruto and the ships we love. I mean this. So don't be afraid to pm me if you'd like to chat. I am very friendly, I promise. Hope you enjoy the chapter. ^^