Desire. Despair. Denial.
A/N: Greetings. Again. If I said I'm sorry to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited or pm'd me about this story, it would take a while. A long while. In lieu of that (and in favor of getting to the story) I'll write it just once more. Sorry for taking so long to update. I could say it's because this story is getting difficult to write because there are so many ways it could go (don't you just hate that gray area between point A and point B?), or because I've been working full time and enjoy sleeping occasionally, or because my computer has been out of commission (I have finally gone from XP to Windows 7. Not by choice, but out of necessity. At least it is not Vista.). All of these statements are true. That doesn't make it okay. So. Sorry. But, here it is, in all its…glory. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~XxXxXxX~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wish.
There are so many things I want to change, to redo, to undo, but I find I cannot go back. I cannot unsee the lifeless eyes of my best friend staring at me as I tossed his corpse in the river. I cannot make myself a better person than the killer, the murderer, I have become. I want to join them in the afterlife, but everything time I mix the toxin into my cup of raise the kunai to my heart I find my hand hesitates. There is nothing left for me here, nothing left to live for, but I don't deserve the eternal rest. I don't deserve peace.
And, there's Kakashi.
I miss him. I need his presence so desperately it is a physical ache, but I don't deserve him either. He needs someone strong, not someone huddled around a campfire with one of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen, waiting for Orochimaru to catch up. He needs someone capable of loving him, not just using him to forget, as I did.
I hate him. Hate everything he's done. I hate the way he made me feel valuable, the way he showed nothing but love and concern for me. I hate how much I need him now. I hate that I'm dragging him down with me, that his connection with me may harm his reputation in the village, may destroy his sense of purpose in life.
I hate that I'm afraid I'll never see him again.
Kisame was too quiet, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I was the one who stopped us, without explanation. He didn't know who or what I was waiting for, only that I was waiting for something, and I didn't like what I was seeking.
Shadows flitted across his face, dropping details in some places and heightening them in others. I couldn't see the line of his jaw but every tiny crease around his right eye was plain to me. I studied him, trying to push Kakashi from my mind, but found myself comparing them. Kakashi was thinner, wiry where Kisame was a walking tank. Kisame was raw force where Kakashi was finesse and strategy. Kisame was a partner, a tool in my hand just as I was a tool in his, a symbiotic parasitism. Neither of us willingly helped the other, but drew as much as we could. Kakashi was a lover, always giving and never expecting anything in return.
My preference was obvious, but duty forced me to stay with the wrong one, to remain faithful to ideals I despised to protect…
Orochimaru slung an arm around my shoulders as he settled beside me. I fought the instinct to tense and pull away and palmed the kunai strapped to my wrist. Just one opening and the damn serpent would be dead.
"Tell me about Sasuke."
Across the fire Kisame failed to conceal his sudden interest. I glared at Orochimaru and he withdrew his embrace. He wanted to keep the arm.
"Or, you could agree to become my vessel…"
I let the Sharingan bleed into my eyes, intensifying my glare. In one fluid motion, I shoved him to the ground and pressed the kunai to his throat hard enough to draw blood.
"Stay away from me." The knife dug deeper and blood gushed from the wound. "Stay away from me, or I'll make you wish you'd died during the wars, had never heard the name Uchiha."
For a moment I saw something akin to fear in his eyes, and then the jutsu released. Free from the effects of my genjutsu, he pulled away from me and melded into the shadows.
"They always come to me, in the end. Remember that, Itachi."
I pulled my cloak closer and stared into the fire, unwilling to consider what, precisely, the serpent meant.
"What the hell was that about?" Kisame snarled, concerned not only that a Sanin had walked into his camp, sat down and acted very friendly toward his admittedly homosexual team mate, and abruptly left, but also that said Sanin had fled the camp just as abruptly and issued a cryptic threat.
"Apparently there is more than one loose end for my brother to clean up," I answered, still staring at the flames.
"Some very loose ends."
-XxXxXxX-
Kakashi settled the hitai-ate over his eye, straightened his mask, and left his hospital room. One night of observation proved sufficient to convince the medic nin that his mission had left him little more than bruised and exhausted. His stubborn refusal to answer any specific questions, from anyone, or file a report with exacting details was chalked up to extreme emotional trauma. Though frowned upon, such a reaction was not entirely unexpected in his situation. Any teacher sent to kill a student, or even a friend sent to eliminate a comrade would be expected to suffer some sadness.
Instead of checking out at the front desk, Kakashi slid the window open, stepped on the sill, and set off across the roof tops. Thankfully, he had few memories of Itachi in the village. Most of their encounters were on missions or training.
The note haunted him. Itachi was always apathetic, so the combination of emotions packed into so few words was confusing at best. Clearly Itachi was also confused, and possibly, probably, suffering the same sort of heartache, but handling it in the typical Itachi style: eliminating the source of the problem swiftly and efficiently.
There was a nagging feeling he couldn't quite shake, as if Itachi had meant something more by his parting words than it seemed. Kakashi pushed the idea away, unwilling to deal with the matter. His growling stomach and heavy eyelids demanded his immediate attention, and a certain chain smoking jounin owed him a favor.
Asuma never asked questions.
For as long as the two had been Shinobi, Kakashi and Asuma had a silent agreement to simply quietly sympathize with the other over a bottle of the strongest liquor readily available. One would simply show up at the other's door for a night of companionable silence. Such nights were infrequent, more so since Asuma admitted his feelings for Kurenai, but still precious.
And Asuma could cook.
Whenever Kakashi arrived on his stoop, Asuma managed to throw together a glorious feast from whatever he happened to have in the house. Kakashi merely grabbed his wallet when the positions were reversed.
That day was no exception. Though it was nearly noon, and most self-respecting Shinobi were already about their business, Asuma answered his door after the second knock. Wordlessly, he motioned Kakashi inside. The entire apartment reeked of stale smoke, and spent cigarette butts formed a smoldering mountain in the end table ashtray.
Asuma's eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, a testament to at least a few sleepless nights. Clearly something was bothering him, too.
"You've been gone a while, Hatake." Asuma chewed the butt of his dying cigarette thoughtfully, still able to scrutinize the man before him despite his own troubles.
Silence settled over them, ripe with a thousand unasked questions and a million half formed responses. Kakashi studied the grain of the table between them, suddenly hyper aware that he was sitting in Asuma's kitchen and unable to remember the journey from the foyer. Dozens of tiny groves marred the surface, denting the varnish and damaging the wood beneath. Some would vanish with a light sanding, others would require hours of patience and care to remove. In the light from the window, they looked like tiny silver scars.
Kakashi flinched when a cup of coffee suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
"I don't think tea, or whiskey, would help today. Besides, I'm fresh out of both." Asuma explained, cradling his own cup. Kakashi sight and raised his glass in a silent toast of thanks before taking a small sip.
The liquid burned all the way down.
-XxXxXxX-
I let my body move of its own accord. Fighting was breathing in motion to me, so second nature that it required no extra thought. The alleged Shinobi I fought could barely hold his katana, much less wield it effectively, and I toyed with him only to buy time for Kisame. The shark was insistent upon completing the mission without being seen. He implied that Pein wanted to minimize the casualties on this mission, though for what reason I could not fathom. I found I didn't particularly care, either.
Unfortunately, the fighting freed my mind for other things. Like thinking about Kakashi. I doubted my teamwork with Kisame would ever compare to what I'd had with the Copy Ninja. For a moment I could feel his lips on mine again, his hands drawing me in an impossibly close embrace.
My opponent slashed viciously across my face. I moved away enough that the blow was only a shallow cut, but the pain blossomed fiercely, and forced me into the present. Kisame caught my eye, signaling it was time to leave, and I cut down the swordsman with a single thrust. He wasn't' dead, but he would never fight again.
Kisame foisted a fistful of scrolls off on me, demanding I carry them. Uncaring, I stowed them in one of the many pockets in my cloak without complaint, The weather quickly turned foul, going from simply cloudy to a full out downpour, but I found myself indifferent.
I wanted answers.
I wanted revenge.
I wanted justice.
Nothing was going to interfere with that.
Not even Kakashi.
…
Pein was waiting for us when we entered the compound. His eyes seemed to see through me, and he looked unhappy. Wordlessly, I offered him the scrolls, which he took without actually acknowledging me.
"Any problems? You were gone longer than I anticipated." Pein stared at me while he addressed Kisame. The shark man refrained from looking at me while he lied through his teeth.
"Nah, no trouble at all. We just decided to…get to know each other. Ya know, set some boundaries." Kisame rubbed the back of his neck casually, indicating how tentative Pein's power over him truly was.
I met Pein's gaze steadily, unnerved but determined not to show it, an effort wasted when I flinched and looked away as a muscle spasm caused my vision to skip and suddenly blur. Squeezing my eyes shut and pinching the bridge of my nose did nothing to rectify it. Pein stared at me with such intensity I could feel his eyes on me.
"Something wrong, Itachi?" Pein asked. I heard a curious tone to his voice and wondered at the implication.
"Pein-sama! Tobi has a-Itachi-san! Pein-sama said you weren't coming back, but Tobi knew! Tobi knew! Tobi learned a new jutsu! Deidara-chan taught me."
"Tobi!" Deidara materialized behind the child-like Akatsuki, fist poised for a punch.
"Punch-Evasion Jutsu!" Tobi yelled, dragging me between himself and the angry sculptor as a human shield. Deidara tried to pull the punch at the last second, failed, and whacked my stoutly in the chest.
Everyone in the room froze and a deathly silence descended. I opened my eyes slowly and sighed, forcing air back into my abused lungs.
"I need a drink." I said, staring Deidara down.
"Hehe! Tobi's jutsu is perfect!"
"Tobi!"
Without waiting to see if Tobi managed to escape another blow, I left the main hall and tried to find my rooms. My vision settled as I walked and the world settled back into the usual lines. I found my room without incident, a blessing I attributed to luck more than anything else. I walked slowly around the room, lighting the candles. It had only been a few weeks, but I'd managed to adorn every flat surface with at least one, and eventually I planned to have thousands. Like my room in—
Pein touched my shoulder. I flinch and reflexively drew a kunai, whirling to stab my attacker. The sight of him drew me up short.
"There's something you aren't telling me, Itachi-kun. The more you try to hid it, the more I wonder about it. Why are you keeping secrets?" I felt his eyes boring into me, but refused to acknowledge my discomfort. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"Does it have something to do with your lover?"
I remained silent, and attempted to meet his gaze stonily. I think I succeeded in creating a façade of indifference, but internally I trembled, my heart raced, and I couldn't seem to breathe properly.
"He left so quickly. Did you have a fight?"
"No. We didn't quarrel." Finally, a question I could answer without lying. I knew from experience, both my own and Deidara's, that Pein could sense lies more easily than an Inuzuka could smell kin or an Aburame could manipulate bugs. For him, it was more than instinctive, it was some sort of reflex.
"Hmm. I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten his name. Who was he, again?" I looked away and bit my lip until I tasted blood. A shiver ran down my spine; my kunai was suddenly slippery in my sweaty palms; I felt like an errant school boy brought before the headmaster for lying. I refused to answer.
"Hmm. I understand your reluctance. You think I would kill Hatake Kakashi of the Sharingan Eye if I knew he was here.
"But I didn't, Itachi-kun. " Pein reached out to cup my cheek in his palm and brush some of my bangs out of my face. "I knew who he was the moment I saw him. He has very distinctive chakra. But as I told you, so long as it doesn't interfere with my plans, I am unconcerned with your choice in lovers."
"I don't love him. We aren't in any sort of romantic relationship."
"Can you look me in the eye and say that, Itachi-kun?"
I hesitated. At that point, I wasn't sure if I believed me, much less if I could convince Pein of it. But for Kakashi's sake, I had to. If I failed, the silver Wolf ANBU would be the one chink in the armor surrounding my heart, the one thing that could effectively bring me down. My feelings for him left me even more vulnerable than my bond with Sasuke.
I stared straight into the ripples of the Rinnegan and said "I am not in love with Hatake Kakashi."
"I'll keep that in mind, Itachi-san."
