A/N: So. I had way too much fun writing this chapter. Actually, I'm getting the feeling that this next story arc is going to be way too much fun. It's going to last for a while, and it may be the last arc of the story. I haven't decided yet- I originally began this story thinking to run it all the way up to where they are introduced in the manga, but I'll have to see how it goes. But don't worry, just because this may be the last story arc, this fic isn't ending anytime soon.

Review?

Chapter 11

Sasori sighed as the door to Deidara's room clicked shut behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, staring blankly at the opposing wall of the white hall. Slowly he let a hand wander up and gently brush his lips.

Well, that had been...unexpected. It seemed that even being almost fatally injured and operated on wasn't enough to keep Deidara from getting into mischief. Sometimes he wondered why he still put up with the boy.

Sasori began walking down the deserted hall, a small grin curving his normally cold lips. He didn't even notice the expression as he walked into the kitchen. The nerves that he'd managed to keep alive around his mouth to aid in speech were dulled at best- he'd been barely able to feel that kiss- but still, it had been...startling. Better than Sasori had thought physical contact could be. Better that he remembered it to be.

The sound of snickering dragged Sasori from his thoughts. With a start he realized he'd already gotten out a pan and a few packs of that instant ramen food that Leader picked up Kami-knew-where. Sasori frowned and turned from the stove to find Hidan sitting at the low-rising table. Itachi was in the corner with a cup of tea as well, but he was as silent as always.

Sasori leveled a glare at Hidan. The superior grin the white-haired man was wearing scraped against Sasori's pride in a way that he wasn't in the mood to deal with.

"Just come from Deidara's room?" Hidan asked with a knowing, amused look in his eyes.

"That doesn't concern you." Sasori murmured, then turned back to the stove.

"Look, he even has you cooking him dinner. Must really be a good lay, if-"

Sasori fell still, his hand still on the handle of the pan before him. His eyes were still peacefully on the boiling water, but there was something in his stance that shifted. Something that became dangerous, and almost protective. Feral. What Hidan was saying, was he was suggesting- Deidara was no toy. And Sasori hoped he didn't think he was going to get away with something like that.

"Hidan. Quiet. No one wants to hear your voice."

Sasori blinked, but didn't turn from the counter. That had been Itachi's voice. His frown deepened- since when did Itachi get involved in anything? But the quiet, stable tone was enough to make Sasori forget about punishing Hidan. The rage faded, to an extent, and whatever had changed in his stance relaxed. Well, the Uchiha had just saved the 'immortal' from becoming one of his puppets. A talking puppet would be annoying, anyway. What was the use of one if it could have no stealth?

A shuffle from behind him told Sasori that Hidan had stood.

"Yeah, well you guys are all boring, anyway."

As Hidan's footsteps faded slowly down the hall, a silence settled on the room. Sasori placed the chunks of dried noodles into the water as it boiled.

"Leader isn't going to be pleased, if you two become even more attached." Itachi stated. It weighed heavily in the air, undoubtedly true.

Sasori stirred the noodles. Such a mundane task suddenly seemed like the most wonderful of distractions. "I know."

"You'd willingly defy him?"

"In this case? Yes."

Itachi stood silently, and Sasori just barely caught his form out of the corner of his eye. He thought he also heard Itachi murmur 'good', but he could have been mistaken. That would mean Itachi was pleased that Sasori was defying what Leader wanted, and what reason did the Uchiha have to be happy about that? It wasn't even any of his direct business.

Sasori's frown deepened even further as he finished making the ramen, throwing the pan into the sink without washing it. Someone else could take care of it.

Sasori stopped himself short just as he began walking out of the empty kitchen. What was he doing? He hadn't made food in years. He'd never gone out of his way to help anyone since he turned himself into a puppet. He hadn't had to eat since becoming a puppet. Was he really doing all this to please a child? The term seemed strange to him, though. Suddenly odd, misplaced. Child? Was Deidara really that young? Granted, his minor by years, but...

He seemed older than that, somehow. All of a sudden, Sasori couldn't place him as a 'child' anymore. Maybe that kiss had changed more than he'd originally thought.

But more than the word child not fitting any longer, was the answer that he knew he possessed to the question. Was he doing this for a child? He knew the answer, but what puzzled him was that he didn't regret any of it.

Sasori shook his head, grabbed the bowl of ramen, and just as he decided that he'd figure out things eventually, a figure standing in the doorway caught his eye. A shadowed figure, features barely discernible, Sasori knew the Leader well enough to tell it was him, even if he was hiding in the shadows. The man seemed to be hiding more often than not, anyway. He couldn't help but wonder why, really. Deep in the base of his own organization, there was nothing to keep secret.

"Sasori, there's some news you should probably be aware of. Come to my office, will you?"

Frowning, Sasori glanced down to the bowl sitting in his wooden hand, then nodded to the hall he'd been about to walk down. "I was bringing food to Deidara."

The Leader sighed, then gestured almost lazily. "Alright, bring the food to the boy. But don't take too long."

The man disappeared, and Sasori exhaled before making his way to Deidara's room. He really hoped this wasn't going to be about the attachment he had to his younger partner. He wasn't up for dealing with something like that so soon- especially when he was still feeling so fragile from that surgery. The resounding strands of the stress that had been on his psyche were still muddling his thought, enough to make withstanding the Leader like that more effort than it was worth.

Sasori walked into Deidara's room less than a minute later, not bothering to knock. Deidara didn't look surprised at the lack of formalities either- he glanced up calmly when his partner walked in, a little clay something-or-other sitting in his palm. With that almost legendary short attention span, Sasori wasn't surprised that he'd picked up something to entertain himself with while he waited. He may have no longer been a child in Sasori's mind, but that didn't mean he didn't still act like one.

"Sasori-danna!"

The excitement in his blue eye as Deidara fixed his gaze on the bowl of food in Sasori's hand was almost enough to make the Puppet Master smile. His younger partner was so easily pleased, it was charming. If Sasori had been anyone else, he would have thought cute. But cute wasn't even in Sasori's vocabulary. So 'charming' it was, as he walked to the bed Deidara lay on and set the bowl in the blond's lap. The second Sasori handed Deidara a pair of chopsticks he began eating, just about swallowing the bowl whole.

Sasori found himself hesitating to leave. Deidara's attention was solely on the food, so it was probably Sasori's best chance for a quiet exit, but he didn't want to. The Leader wanted to see him- was going to address the Deidara issue almost certainly- and Sasori was in no hurry to get there. But that wasn't the reason why Sasori was hesitating, and even he realized it. Even doing something as typical as eating, Deidara drew his eyes. Fascinated him. His expressions, his movements, it was like they were all new to him.

Maybe he really was falling for this brat. Watching someone and enjoying it as much as he did was not normal- even by his standards.

With a great deal of determination and resignation, Sasori tore his eyes from Deidara and headed to the door. It felt like he'd been staring for hours, but in reality Deidara hadn't even gotten half-way through the ramen, so it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Time seemed to wind itself in knots when he was so lost in thought like he was. He frowned- somehow he'd ended up smiling during that time with Deidara- and made his was to Leader's office.

Xxxxxxxxx

"...what...?"

"We caught a spy. Or an assassin. We aren't sure- Kisame killed him before we could interrogate the man. But he was from Iwa, and he was in Deidara's room." Leader stated heavily.

"Where...was I? When this happened."

The Leader paused, then continued, as if hesitant. "It was right after you tried to turn him into a puppet."

Sasori felt a little bit numb. And this shouldn't have been much of a change from what he normally felt like, but it was different, somehow. Cold, a numbing cold and a kind of dread and apprehension as he sensed the truth hang over him like some kind of blade. "...and?"

"I sent Zetsu to Iwa to investigate. He couldn't find much on the matter, which is surprising. But it seems there's something there, in your partner's home village, that's being hidden so well that not even Zetsu can sniff it out. Deidara has more strings attached than he's told us about." The Leader's voice was monotone, but there was something under that fake, authoritative voice...something that had Sasori on edge, despite the cold that had suddenly wrapped around him. It sounded like worry. Worry and anger.

"And you want me to force information out of him..." Sasori's voice sounded kind of hollow, even to his own ears. Distant. This was all so strange...Deidara, keeping secrets? Since when was his idiot of a partner ever able to keep anything quiet?

"Not force." The Leader corrected. "Get what you can. And if that doesn't work, I'll do the forcing."

That didn't help the cold that was burrowing its way into Sasori's chest. The unnatural sensation of sudden feeling, even though he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all. Leader's interrogations...they never ended with the interrogated being left alive. And that notion wasn't something that Sasori could wrap his mind around right now. He'd just recovered from almost loosing Deidara once- and just barely recovered, at that. He wasn't ready to let anything threaten Deidara's life yet. But...Sasori could also see where the Leader was coming from on this. With an almost surgical clarity, he knew the importance of the information.

He hated that clarity almost more than he hated the clouded panic he'd fallen into after he brought Deidara back from the mission. For once, he didn't want to think, because that meant knowing what would happen if Deidara didn't tell him what they needed to know. And Sasori wasn't sure what he'd do, if that happened. But he knew as things stood, he wouldn't let something like that happen. He wouldn't stand by and wait as Deidara was tortured to death.

Sasori turned, to walk out of the office. His movements were even stiffer than normal, and the Leader must have picked up on that. He didn't see why the man wouldn't. He knew the impact of everything he did; he knew what his words had just done. And the Leader would go through with it anyway, because Deidara could be a liability, and the Akatsuki had no liabilities. None at all.

"Sasori, don't take too long. I don't want to be left waiting." The Leader said in his wake, as Sasori opened the office door. He shut it firmly behind him, and walked as fast as he could from that forsaken room.

The hallway to Deidara's room seemed painfully long and impossibly short all at once. Maybe it was because he couldn't decide if he wanted to see that blond head, the blue eye and the arrogant grin aimed his way, or if he wanted to sit and stare at one of the many white walls of the hallway. He wanted to see Deidara, make sure he was all right, but at the same time seeing him meant asking him the question. Maybe it was paranoia, that Sasori wanted to see his partner so badly, but Deidara was injured and the entire Akatsuki was possibly now against him. Them. Because Sasori wouldn't let Deidara face those odds alone. If Deidara couldn't tell him what he asked, then Sasori would stand beside him against the full wrath of the organization they were once part of.

Yes, that sounded right. It felt right. To come to the stony conclusion that nothing could force him to go against his younger partner.

But...if he walked into that room, he was going to have to ask Deidara about his past. About what connections he still had, and he knew how bad pasts could get. Sasori couldn't sympathize right now, though. He didn't think he was really capable of it, in the first place, but right now he was trying to keep Deidara alive. And to keep him alive, he had to get information out of the boy. According to the Leader, he wasn't supposed to force it out, but being forced by his partner was a hell of a lot better than being tortured by their leader. Even if Deidara was angry with him for it, he decided. If Deidara couldn't tell him, he'd stand by the blond, but he would push as hard as possible to get what he needed to know.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The sound of flesh hitting clay was the only thing that cut through the silence that had befallen the room. Deidara had long finished eating, his empty bowl sitting off to the side on his nightstand a testament to that. He'd begun occupying himself with throwing a simple ball of clay up and down on the bed while he lay on it, but the action had long since ceased to be entertaining. Now it was more...hypnotic, than anything else. It flew up, hit its peak, then fell back to his hand with a startling steadiness and rhythm that was more reassuring than he'd thought a simple ball of clay could manage. And since when did he need any reassurances?

Deidara frowned, caught the ball of clay, and crushed it in his fist. The silence in the room became complete, and he stared at the mass of moldable clay that once was a perfect little sphere. He didn't need anything to comfort him. He didn't need comfort. He was an S-ranked missing nin, a warrior of the Akatsuki. He was fine on his own, he didn't need anything to help him feel better. Sure, there were things he enjoyed doing, and things he liked that he couldn't just make appear on his own. But those were amusements. He didn't need any of them.

Like Sasori. He'd long come to the conclusion that he loved the puppet master, but he was just a distraction. All of it- this working for the Akatsuki, trying to take over the world, working his art, bothering Sasori...it was all for the sheer distraction of it. To make himself feel happier, and take his mind of the world. Right? He didn't need it.

Why was he so melancholy?

With a bit of a struggle, Deidara sat up, and looked at the floor in front of his bed for maybe the fourth or fifth time in the past five minutes. There, on the hard floor, was the faintest little dark smudge. Almost unnoticeable. But he knew what it was- any ninja that saw it would. It was blood. That shouldn't have worried him. It could have been blood from the surgery- Sasori had cut open his face, after all. That was bound to leave some blood. But Deidara was not a fool.

He knew where that blood had come from. He could just about smell the jutsu the man had used to get into the room. Kisame or someone must have killed the man before he'd been able to do anything, but he knew who it had been. An envoy from Iwa. They'd found him. It had taken them almost a year and a half now, but they'd found him.

So that was why he had to remind himself that he didn't need anything here, in the Akatsuki. That everything he'd been doing up until now had been a mere amusement, and experiment. He wasn't really dependent on any of it. The routine running about at Leader's command, the terse voice of Sasori when he'd done something overly dangerous. The base here, with Kisame and the rest of the Akatsuki, the room that had slowly become his home after a year. Sasori's bedroom, and the room a little further down the hall that he used to work in. The smell of grease and wood and metal, the smell of clay that had slowly instilled itself as well after Deidara had spent enough time just bugging his partner there. The stupid contests he would have with Kisame when they were both at the base, and bored. The troubles he'd overcame while he was here, the missions that had nearly taken his life. The battles he'd fought, and the realizations he'd made. None of it mattered.

Whoever had found the envoy would have gone to Leader. Maybe Leader himself was the one to catch the little spy. He'd be wanting answers. Answers that were far too complicated to give, without giving a life story as well. He'd have to leave, before they cornered him too far. Tonight, maybe. His wounds wouldn't like something like that, but he'd managed. He'd managed before. And what was one more pursuer on his tail, when the Akatsuki found him gone?

Deidara's eye shut and he told his heart it was being ridiculous as it pounded in his chest. He scrounged around for the carefree, cruel attitude he knew he possessed, knowing that would be his way out. He'd leave the Akatsuki wearing a careless smirk, and move on. He'd find another way to get money. That had been his original purpose, hadn't it? Money. It wasn't that hard to obtain. So he'd leave as soon as he could manage, and not return. He'd do his best to stay ahead of the Akatsuki, in case they wanted him dead for running, and most of all avoid ever seeing Sasori again in his life. Once he left, he didn't think he'd be able to keep it up if he saw those dark brown eyes again.

The bed creaked under him as Deidara stood. His head spun and his wounds ached as he did so, but after a few moments he regained enough of his balance to walk. And that was all he needed to move. The pain would become dulled after a while, once he got used to it. It always did. With his lips set in a stern line, Deidara walked over to his dresser, where he'd kept the clothes that were not of Akatsuki origin. He'd taken care to keep a few normal outfits, just in case something like this came up. Or, if he had to go undercover somewhere. He'd honestly thought the undercover use would come before the go-on-the-run would, but it seemed he wasn't that fortunate.

Of course he wasn't. He'd been a fool to ever think he could possibly stay somewhere for this long.

With careful movements, Deidara began packing away clothes into the cloth bag he kept for missions. There were already emergency supplies in the bag- those were necessary for any mission lasting more than a day- so all he needed were the clothes, and the other little knickknacks that he bothered to keep around. The few outfits he owned were packed away in seconds, with a depressingly efficient determination. He set the bag on the floor with a misted eye, and looked up to the top of the dresser, where he kept most of his other belongings. There wasn't much...a few sculptures he was particularly proud of, a wooden hand from one of Sasori's puppets that he'd stolen...and a picture frame, without a picture. Just a dark, wooden picture frame. The white background seemed to be the purest thing in his room, with nothing to interrupt its uniformity.

He grabbed that picture frame first. He let his fingers run over the semi-smooth wood once before he packed that in along with his clothes. Then, he placed the sculptures into the bag. The last thing he removed from the hardwood surface was the puppet hand. It hadn't really been a gift from Sasori, considering he'd stolen it, but it was the closest thing he had to one. He didn't think Sasori understood the concept of gifts, and what they could do. But, then again, Sasori had never tried to get the hand back. He'd seen it, Deidara was sure. It was sitting out in the open. But he'd never even asked about it. So maybe it was a gift.

He smiled, sadly, as he placed the hand into the bag as well. It would be the last little piece of Sasori he'd ever have as his own. He'd make sure to take good care of it, unlike the rest of his few belongings.

With the only slightly heavy travel pack over his shoulder, Deidara walked back over to the bed to grab the bag he kept full of clay. He remembered to tug on a shirt before strapping the bag onto his thigh, realizing quite belatedly that he wasn't wearing one. He tucked a few kunai away, just in case, and found himself ready to go. It had taken him all of five minutes to pack away his life, and be ready to leave what he'd come to cherish behind. Ninja weren't supposed to cherish much, especially criminals like these that he'd been living among, but...it was somewhere to live. He'd found his place here, unlike Iwa, unlike any of the countries he'd been to since leaving his place of birth.

But he'd have to leave this place behind him. He'd done it before, though leaving had never been quite this hard. He let out a deep sigh, and felt something break a little as he forced a smirk onto his face. A small, pulsing pain had decided it deserved residence in his chest, and his eye was burning a little. He would be fine. If he gave it a little while, both sensations would go away.

A steady smirk on his face and an unreadable look in his eye, Deidara was ready to go. He went to turn from his bed, head to the door-

"Deidara...?"

And he stopped in his tracks.

His smirk faltered and Deidara felt the world fall out from under him as he turned to face Sasori in the doorway. The look in his partner's eyes was the kind of shock of a child who has witnessed their parents killed, or house burned to the ground. Some kind of tragedy, so large and inescapable that there was no way to overcome it unscathed.

"What...what are you doing...?"

The determination to leave breaking from him with every second that passed, Deidara closed his eye and leaned his head back. He felt something suspiciously wet fall down the side of his face and find its way down his neck as he faced the ceiling unseeingly. A grin curved his lips; a pale, broken shadow of the confident smirk he normally wore. The expression of a man heading to his execution, the smile of a man who accepted that.

"Hello, Sasori."

He couldn't leave. He'd been a fool to think it. So this place would be his grave.