As always, thank you so much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :)

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Chapter Twelve: Deadly Ambitions

-

Propping her chin up with one hand disconsolately, Sakura absentmindedly takes hold of the nearest bottle of maple syrup and draws a sad face on her one remaining waffle. Upon realizing what she is doing, she makes a face, hastily scribbles the sad face out, and then replaces it with a smiling one that is still unsatisfactorily…wobbly. And then, on the verge of correcting it again, the unfortunate kunoichi realizes that she has somehow managed to deplete a good half of the bottle of syrup on her one waffle alone.

Great.

Abandoning this failed artistic pursuit, Sakura situates her thoroughly saturated waffle back in the middle of its paper plate, before taking it firmly in hand and making her way out of the more or less deserted dining room, deciding that she can just finish this upstairs. After passing a calendar in the lobby on her way to the elevators, she cannot help but notice that it has been exactly one week since she and Itachi had run into Sasuke on the borders of Lightning – they haven't seen hide or hair of him since, though, and she honestly doesn't know how to feel about that…not to mention, Itachi. She had been so wrapped up in her own misery on that first day that she hadn't fully realized how difficult it must have been for him; seeing Sasuke again after all that had happened between them. The current situation between the Uchiha brothers (as far as Sakura knows, Sasuke has no idea that Itachi is still alive, despite his still being listed active in the latest Bingo Book) is so complicated that it makes her head spin. Briefly, she considers the possibility of a reconciliation between them, now that Sasuke apparently knows the truth about Itachi, but…she supposes that it is none of her business, and the thought makes her frown.

Trying to get her mind off anything to do with her ex-teammate, Sakura stares at the formidable rows of buttons on the inside of the elevator, before tentatively pressing the one marked "Five." In the past week, she and Itachi had finally fought their way out of Lightning's swamplands, and accidentally happened upon a large city – which is, of course, infinitely preferable to the alternative. She still can't figure out why their hotel is so deserted, though; it is easily the nicest place that they have stayed in so far, and Sakura's only problem with it is that it is so freaking big, enough for her to have gotten lost six times so far in the two days that they have been here. Not to mention that horrible first incident with the elevator, where, due to her erratic pushing of the buttons, she and Itachi had become stuck in the elevator in question, right outside the fifth floor – and it had taken all of her considerable persuasive skills to convince him to not Katon a giant flaming hole through the elevator doors.

As a result, the Elevator Incident had taught Sakura that even Itachi at his most resolute has a tendency to waver visibly in response to her most pleading look, especially when utilized in conjunction with a few carefully executed eyelash flutters and the slightest pout. Which makes her think that there might be some truth to that old adage of catching more flies with honey than with vinegar, which, in turn, is definitely news to her. Although it's not like she wants to 'catch' Itachi, or anything…

Anyway.

In reflection, though, it had been an amusing experience; one that it had done its part to alleviate a great deal of the tension that had been building between them since their encounter with Sasuke…not to mention the residual awkwardness left over from their impromptu make-out session. Sakura flinches a little at the memory, before stepping out of the elevator, and looking down the plush red-carpeted hallway, feeling a little lost.

Room 516?

Or maybe it had been 526. Or…perhaps 546? Maybe even 566?

Cursing her absentmindedness, Sakura readjusts her grip on the paper plate, wandering down the hall slowly. After a few moments, it occurs to her that she can just follow Itachi's chakra signature, or something – but then, after a quick attempt at this, she remembers that he keeps it cloaked all the time, and she scowls. Not caring that, to an outside observer, she probably looks like some kind of stalker; the pink-haired kunoichi makes her way down the hallway slowly, trying her best to trigger her memory somehow.

It is only when she passes Room 518 that something very strange just clicks within the confines of her mind, and as a result, Sakura's eyes widen as she clutches her waffle tighter for security, slowly backtracking to room 516.

Yeah, that's definitely Itachi's voice. Very soft, and muted by the heavy wooden door, but that low, smooth tenor is absolutely unmistakable.

Which she can't say for the other voice. In all honesty, Sakura's first instinct is to nearly squeeze her waffle to death as she stares at the door, utterly shocked, and desperately thinking something along the lines of, Oh my god, in the name of all that's holy, does Itachi really have a…visitor?

And then some more specifics register. Namely, that the other voice is totally unfamiliar, which means that it isn't Kisame dropping in for a surprise visit, and…that it is very, very masculine.

At this, Sakura almost drops her waffle in horror, because what the hell, she could have sworn that Itachi didn't swing that way, and…and…

Abandoning all forms of social niceties, Sakura fights with the doorknob for a few moments, before literally falling headlong into the room; luckily, she narrowly avoids tripping on the edge of the rug, and barely manages to grab the corner of the dresser to steady herself. "Itachi, what—"

Then Itachi slowly turns around, giving her a very, very nonplussed look.

…And so does the ghostly apparition-thing in front of him.

Sakura's mind actually ceases functioning for a split second as she stares at the creepy thing, utterly aghast. But then she realizes that the weird hologram has spiky orange hair, multiple facial piercings, and a long Akatsuki cloak, which must mean—

There is a long moment of awkward silence between the Akatsuki Leader, his undercover solo operative, and the horrorstruck ex-Leaf kunoichi standing right between them.

"…Itachi," Pein comments, at last, and even Sakura can hear the subtle, perplexed undertone in his monotonous voice. "Is this, ah…girl… an – acquaintance – of yours?"

Before anybody can do or say anything further, Sakura claps her hands over her mouth, entirely mortified, and slowly backs out of the room, taking care to close the door behind her.

Feeling the weight of an equally disconcerted purple gaze upon him, Itachi turns back to face the Leader, sighing almost imperceptibly as he does so. "…It is a rather long story."

-

Sakura rides the elevator up and down for no less than an hour, taking small, traumatized bites out of her waffle as she does so. Once finished with this endeavor, and upon deciding that it may possibly be safe to return, she cautiously slinks down the hallway toward Room 516. It sounds silent, but she knocks anyway, blushing hard as she does so.

Itachi opens the door after a few moments, looking very vaguely amused, despite the highly…awkward…conversation that had ensued with Pein after his partner's unceremonious entrance and subsequent departure. "Hello, Sakura."

Sakura abandons the usual pleasantries in favor of making her way inside as she runs her fingers through her hair and gives an exaggerated moan of displeasure. "That was the most embarrassing thing that's happened to me since…kami, I don't even know." She flings herself down on the bed again, and Itachi can't help but notice that the way she bends her legs at the knee and arches her back in a slight stretch does some very interesting things to her slim figure, all of which are proving to be highly distracting at the moment.

"You're staring," Sakura points out succinctly, even as she arches her neck back, stretching the stiff muscles there and fixing her gaze on the ceiling. Rather disconcerted at being caught, Itachi redirects his gaze toward the scenery outside the window; although, of course, the alternative is infinitely preferable. They are both silent for a few minutes, until she speaks again, a little more tentatively this time. "So, um…what did your Leader…?"

She trails off uncertainly, and Itachi doesn't allow himself to take his eyes off the window as he replies, keeping his tone carefully impassive. "We are to meet him at the headquarters in Rain to discuss our progress in the latest operation."

It takes a moment for this statement to register, and when it does, Sakura blinks. Latest operation…

Admitting it is a little embarrassing, but until these words, until this morning, despite the black-and-red cloak that clearly marks his allegiances, Sakura really has forgotten that Itachi has ties to anybody besides…herself. They have been partners for so long that it feels like they are in their own insulated bubble most of the time, even though she had known that, aside from the portion of currency that he uses to pay for their rooms, the rest of his half of their combined earnings must go to the Akatsuki funds. She fidgets a little, sliding out of bed and going to stand beside Itachi, although she can't bring herself to look at him as she toys with the material of the silky purple curtains a little uncomfortably. "When you say we…"

Itachi takes a little while to respond, engaging in a slight internal struggle between logic and impulse. He doesn't want to leave her alone for any amount of time – kami, no. But at the same time, he knows that the Leader and Madara will not tolerate an outsider knowing the location of the Akatsuki headquarters – and although she is a missing-nin now, even Itachi has to admit that Sakura simply would not be able to be trusted in that situation.

Especially if she knew the specifics of the Akatsuki's latest goal.

"The Leader is not receptive to the idea of any non-members entering Rain," Itachi murmurs, by way of explanation.

Much to her displeasure, Sakura actually feels herself waver a little as she looks up at him. "…Oh," she squeaks.

Kami, she seems dead set on making this difficult for him. "I will likely only be absent for two or three days, at most," Itachi says indistinctly, looking down at the carpet.

Sakura knows what he is very subtly trying to do, but to her displeasure, part of her really does need this reassurance, and she inclines her head a fraction of an inch, struggling a little with what to do next. "…I won't go anywhere," she says in a rush, before she even has time to really think her words through.

For a few moments, Itachi is not sure as to the specifics of her meaning; she could be talking about their decision to stay within the confines of this city for the next few days or so…or, it could be an oblique reference to their conversation a week ago, about Sasuke. He has never hesitated to give, to sacrifice everything in his life for his younger brother, but – it feels so unbearably selfish of this to even think this, but he feels like this – Sakura – is something that he would rather like to keep.

Sakura misinterprets the look on his face, though, and tilts her head a little to the side, her gaze seeking his. "You do trust me, right?"

Her words are soft and uncharacteristically uncertain, and Itachi smirks in response, even though it is considerably less acerbic than usual. "I do."

This admission takes them both by surprise, and he returns to studiously observing the curtains, while Sakura does the same to the windowsill. She is vaguely conscious of blushing, her heart beating a little faster than usual, and she just isn't used to feeling so damn unsure of herself. "Do you want some waffles before you go?" she blurts, before wincing visibly as soon as the asinine statement works its way out of her traitorous vocal cords. Waffles. Kami. Like this entire exchange needed to get any more awkward.

Predictably enough, Itachi looks similarly disconcerted by her question. "No," he replies, too quickly. "I will be able to eat once I reach the headquarters."

They fall silent again, and Sakura struggles with what to do. Normally, she wouldn't have thought twice about standing on the tips of her toes and flinging her arms around Itachi's shoulders, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek – but the last time she had done that, she had elicited a reaction from him that neither of them had been ready for. And if the same thing happens this time…but still, it doesn't feel right to just let him go, so Sakura reaches out a little hesitantly, taking Itachi's hands in hers and lightly intertwining their fingers together.

Surprisingly, he doesn't tense at the sudden contact, and for a little while, they just hold hands, carefully not looking at each other. Itachi struggles with himself during this brief period of time – he wants to do something, yes, and this impulse is just so strange and foreign on its own that makes deciding what that something should be, even more difficult. Part of him is rather vocally demanding that he just let go of her now, because this is already pushing things a little bit too far, blurring too many lines even more than what they have already done – and besides, Sakura is only a few months older than Sasuke, which means that she is far too young for him, and this is so very improper—

Still, while Sakura is considering doing the same thing, Itachi is the one who slowly bridges the distance between them, gently relocating his hands to the smooth curve of her slender waist, his thumbs stroking along the undeniably pleasing contour of her body. In response, Sakura only sighs a little, leaning forward for a few moments, and bracing her small hands against his chest, so that her forehead presses against the abstract metal flowers of the necklace that he always wears. He watches her carefully, trying to see if she feels uncomfortable in any way, but there is nothing of the sort in her liquid green gaze as she offers him the smallest of smiles, before reaching up and interlacing her fingers behind his neck.

Itachi's better judgment is still heatedly protesting against this, offering the rather valid points that a kiss to the cheek – or forehead; Sakura has a very nice forehead, after all – would be more than acceptable…but even the thought of the alternative is proving to be so very, dizzyingly tempting.

For her part, Sakura cannot read the expression in his eyes, and she doesn't know where this is going – part of her wants to stop this before it goes too far and they undo all the progress that they have made in reclaiming a more normal sort of relationship, but an equally-sized part of her wants it so much. No matter how much she had cursed Itachi's approach to their last kiss; it is now starting to look rather good, in hindsight, because he simply had not given her any time to think about it. He had just gone in for the kill, like the deadly combatant he was, and proceeded to absolutely blow her mind for the next ten minutes or so. Although, this sentiment may be stupid, but still…she trusts Itachi. He probably knows what he's doing, even if she doesn't.

…Coincidentally enough, at this exact moment, Itachi realizes that he does not know what he is doing. He still isn't sure whether he is aiming for a more platonic kiss to Sakura's cheek or forehead or—

He slowly, tentatively angles his head toward her, anyway, and desperately hoping for the best, Sakura closes her eyes prematurely, stretching up to meet him.

…Later, Sakura will reflect that maybe it had been because they hadn't been holding each other right. Or perhaps it was because both of them had been so damned nervous and desperately second-guessing themselves that they had jinxed it before it even started. Or maybe their intense, steamy first kisses had just been terrible flukes, and in reality, both she and Itachi were just doomed to fail horribly at kissing.

Anyway.

En route to their attempted kiss…thing, Itachi and Sakura bump noses.

Hard.

To both of their credit, Sakura bites her lip and just barely manages to not whimper, while Itachi blinks, doing his best to restrain the almost confused sound that is fighting to make its way free of his throat. That had been new. And…rather unpleasant, to be honest.

Now too flustered to even entertain the idea of a second attempt at the real thing, both Itachi and Sakura let go of each other hastily and step a safe distance apart. Itachi is so immersed in a wave of intense self-recrimination (that…tactical mishap…had been some sort of higher power's way of warning him off engaging in such scandalous activities with a sixteen-year-old girl, he is sure of it) that at first, he almost doesn't notice when Sakura finally approaches, very cautiously, and gives him a much quicker and safer kiss to the cheek. "Take care, all right?" she manages, blushing so hard that it really does feel as if her face is emitting heat.

Somewhat at a loss for what to do, if anything, Itachi only murmurs a soft reciprocation, before vanishing in a swirl of ash.

…Leaving his partner to seriously consider the merits of banging her head against the nearest wall until she succumbs to blissful unconsciousness.

Forgetting that she is an A-ranked kunoichi and sixteen and so much more mature than this, Sakura actually snarls wrathfully, before flinging herself facedown on the bed and punching the pillows over and over again. What the hell? What the hell was that? Were she and Itachi like…dating…now, or something? After all, they had very recently graduated from torrid let's-have-hot-make-out-sessions-and-then-pretend-that-it-never-happened liaisons (never mind that the occasion in question had been a singular event), to an actual – well, attempted – goodbye kiss, complete with all the awkwardness and…general wince factor…that are trademark factors of first anythings in any new relationship.

Sakura rolls over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling blankly. It is times like this that she misses Ino even more than usual.

Kami, she doesn't even know what to think. She and Naruto had parted on uncertain terms, regarding their friendship or relationship or whatever – and as much as Sakura absolutely despises admitting it, her encountering Sasuke again had only served to stir up emotions that she had believed were long gone.

The absolute last thing that she needs right now is the issue of her slowly growing feelings for Itachi.

At first, Sakura had tried her best to believe that her attraction to him was purely physical – that it was just a natural chemical or biological response to an undeniably (unbelievably) attractive older male. But how many times had she found herself not just internally sighing over his various physical attributes – which is embarrassing enough to admit – but trying her best to decipher the subtle nuances of his behavior? The day after they had run into Sasuke, Itachi had been even more quiet and withdrawn than usual, and she had tried so hard to coax even an amused smirk out of him. She had succeeded in this pursuit by the end of the day, and she felt so happy about it afterward that…it wasn't even funny.

It's – well, it's just totally horrifying to admit it, but Sakura definitely doesn't believe in lying to herself. Besides, what other rational explanation could there be for – her feeling the way Itachi makes her feel? It's terrible. It's awful. It's her heart feeling like it turns over every time he smirks in that absolutely infuriating way, and her pulse racing whenever they exchange even the briefest moments of physical contact. She…she likes him. Itachi. And in all honesty, this sentiment really does make her feel like the world is coming to an end.

This entire stupid crush-thing wouldn't even be so bad, if it wasn't Itachi who was the current recipient of her affections. Itachi, of all people – who is wrong for her in just about every way that matters. He can be capable of surprising gentleness, yeah, but…he can also be cold and ruthless and so emotionally detached that it's scary and absolutely incomprehensible and indefinable. He is smoke and mirrors and everything that she doesn't know enough about the world to put a name to – made up of more shades of gray than probably even exist in nature. Sakura doesn't understand him, and she doesn't know if she even wants to. In many ways, Itachi is much too complicated and too damaged for her – it isn't like one of those stupid personality clichés in that he just needs some friendship and love to magically transform him into a normal kind of person.

She doesn't want to care for him as much as she does. Hell, she had just been unceremoniously reminded earlier today that…despite what things are like when they are alone together, Itachi is still part of the Akatsuki. And just because they aren't hunting jinchiruuki anymore doesn't mean that they aren't still enemies of, oh, just about everybody in the sane, rational world. He had mentioned their 'latest operation' earlier today, and Sakura just feels stupid for not realizing that they must have had some other plan to take control of the world. She can't wrap her mind around it – she has never asked him about said plan, yes, but whatever it is, it's the Akatsuki, which means that it's going to involve lots of needless violence and bloodshed and loss of innocent lives…which, as far as she is concerned, is completely unconscionable. But Itachi's allegiances are to the Akatsuki first and foremost – not her. And she should have realized this earlier.

Sakura is vaguely conscious of dragging herself out of bed and walking toward the window slowly, resting her flushed forehead against the chilly glass. She cannot reconcile her – not her – Itachi with the amoral Akatsuki member who would think nothing of going to unspeakable measures in order to take control of the world. She just can't. And she can't want one part of him, but not the other. It's just so unbearably, incredibly confusing; enough to make her feel all twisted up from the inside out.

Of one thing, she is sure – she has to stop this, whatever this is. The growing physical and emotional intimacy isn't good for either of them, and her personal feelings about it, about him, don't matter. If she ignores them enough, they're going to go away.

Sakura swallows over the tightness in her throat, unable to even think about this any longer. It hurts too much, in ways that she can't even attempt to understand. She picks up her discarded bag mechanically, before making her way to the bathroom, but she isn't going to cry. She isn't weak like that. She is just going to stand underneath the scalding water until things like this stop mattering so much.

And, when she comes out again, it's going to be like none of it ever happened.

-

Rain

-

The mouth on Deidara's right hand chews up a large chunk of clay, spitting out a decently sized cherry bomb, and he smirks in satisfaction, tossing it back and forth between his hands. "So, it's just you and me, yeah?" he asks, throwing his feet up on the drab brown sofa. "Some meeting this is going to be. More like a waste of precious time, yeah."

Sasori ceases his dispassionate observation of his fingernails in order to look up at his once-again partner. "Zetsu and Kisame are still occupied in Grass, and it is the same with Hidan and Kakuzu in Waterfall; they have made their reports already. Itachi should still be coming, though, if he has not arrived already."

His blank recital of information is rudely interrupted by a snort from Deidara. "Screw that, yeah – we'd be better off without the antisocial bastard, anyway."

A slight, enigmatic smirk touches the corner of Sasori's newly youthful face as he deliberately leans across from his armchair, picking up a copy of the newest Bingo Book from the coffee table. "Not so antisocial, it seems," he murmurs.

Deidara actually ceases manufacturing cherry bombs at this, his interest now officially perked as he stares over at his partner. "What's that supposed to mean, yeah?"

There are a few minutes of silence, and then the Bingo Book sails through the air, landing squarely on Deidara's lap – and already open to page ten. Deidara stares at it, wide-eyed, before lifting it up, brushing his bangs out of his eyes in order to see better. "What—" he stares at Sasori, astounded. "Isn't this your little kunoichi, yeah?"

Sasori makes a small, amused sound in the back of his throat. "My killer, yes. You would do better to call her Itachi's little kunoichi, though."

Deidara's eyes widen even further as he look down, scanning Sakura's pages of information. "Her date of defect – August of last year. Which means that she was probably one of those who left Konoha when that Danzou guy took over, yeah?"

"It is likely," Sasori deadpans.

Deidara surveys the picture of Sakura, smirking appreciatively as he does so. "I remember her; A-ranked – nice and capable, yeah…I wonder how a pretty firebrand like this ended up as Itachi's little—"

Sasori frowns, preempting the epithet that is sure to follow. "Have some respect, Deidara," he replies repressively.

Deidara lifts his hands defensively. "What? I'm just saying – somebody like her probably wouldn't find being a missing-nin easy, and desperation does things to people, yeah. That Uchiha would probably take care of her, too," – he lifts an eyebrow suggestively – "if he got something in return."

"Hm," Sasori replies, sounding somewhat unconvinced as to Deidara's assessment of the relationship between Itachi and Sakura, as he reclaims the Bingo Book and glances down at the girl in question, looking vaguely intrigued.

"Think he brought her along?" Deidara asks, sounding a little bit too interested, as one of the mouths on his hand spits out another cherry bomb.

"Perhaps," Sasori contemplates, trying not to sound too interested.

Deidara grins wolfishly. "Think he'd mind sharing, yeah?"

"…You know, Deidara, one would think that you would value your second lease on life a little bit more than you appear to."

-

It is raining, predictably enough.

It has also been more than a year since Itachi has entered his private room within the Akatsuki headquarters, but everything is just the same as he left it. The entirety of the headquarters is dark, yes, as it is an underground facility, but Itachi's room is made even more so by the simple, unmistakably masculine dark red and black décor. It is colder than the rest of the headquarters, too; so clean and organized that it is almost sterile, and smelling like a strange mix of herbal teas, mingled with the heavily chemical scent of the medicines he had survived entirely off of for five years straight.

Itachi settles himself onto the bed that doesn't feel so familiar, anymore, crossing his legs and settling his hands on top of his knees in an absentminded meditation position. His room has no windows, but his internal clock is telling him that he has about an hour until the meeting – and, for once, Itachi wishes that his room offered some sort of distractions within it. He does not want to think about the operation that will be discussed in the meeting, and he most definitely does not want to think about the girl that he has just left behind.

Not for the first time, Itachi wonders what the hell he had been thinking (if he had been, at all), in those last few minutes with Sakura. For the kami's sake, he is not some pathetic, hormonally driven adolescent – which means that he should be able to control the…impulses…that Sakura seems to trigger with so little effort. These emotions are just so new and incomprehensible that he cannot understand them in the least, and even his customary icy self-control is proving to be very little help in this situation. He does not want to care for the girl, and he most definitely does not want to want her…and, much to his displeasure, he is finding himself doing exactly that. At least with the former, he can put up a decent pretense of not doing so, but the latter – well, that is another story entirely.

Itachi winces almost imperceptibly at the very thought. The first time, it had been because he had mistaken Sakura for Shisui, but earlier today, he had no such excuse for his deplorable behavior. He was all too aware of the girl he had held in his arms, and it had been truly disconcerting, how much he had just wanted to—

He tries his best to push thoughts of that nature away – he does not understand why he is so very attracted to her, and…he doesn't want to be. Sakura is a distraction and a weakness, and the last thing he needs. If he had any common sense, he would just let Sasuke have her, because…

The thought is too bitter to complete, and Itachi looks down at the dark red weave of the blankets beneath him, blinking a few times as he does so. Because maybe Sasuke hasn't been damaged enough; maybe he still knows how to truly care for somebody. There is still the possibility of hope and redemption for Sasuke, but for him…hardly. He is too complicated for Sakura, and far too damaged; giving in to his – feelings – would just do her a disservice.

Sakura confuses him more than he wants to admit, as well. Itachi does not know where she fits into his life, anymore – she is no longer merely just his little pink-haired partner and companion, but neither is she a…girlfriend, like Shisui had been. Until the end, his and Shisui's relationship had hardly been complicated, as well, but his and Sakura's has been from the beginning, and seems to grow more so with every day that passes. To make matters worse, Itachi knows that Sakura will be directly affected by his part in what the Akatsuki has planned, and no matter how much he dislikes admitting it, this…bothers him. Greatly.

There is only one thing that Itachi knows for sure; he cannot let this – whatever this is – go any further, regardless of his…personal desires. It is what is best for the both of them.

Itachi tries to meditate, then. Tries to think about absolutely nothing, except the repeating mantra that he does not want her, and he will not want her – and after a long time of this, he just inhales once, and immediately notices something that is rather…off. Something smells to sharp and acrid, and when he finally opens his eyes, slowly and warily, he catches sight of the foreign element immediately.

The note is written on dark red paper that nearly blends into his blankets, covered in telltale specks of ash, and written in thin black ink, with spidery, somewhat antiquated script—

Meet me in the third conference room at once.

-Madara

Itachi breaths in, once, and as he does so, crushes the note into a tiny, crumpled ball underneath his long fingers.

-

Madara likes the dark. Itachi has long suspected that this is really some sort of not-so-subtle intimidation tactic, although this particular one has never affected him much. Not even when he had been going blind.

The third conference room is almost completely black, enough for Itachi only to be able to make out the vague outline of the large, circular table that separates the two of them; the sole light in the cavernous space comes from the eerie black-punctuated crimson of Madara's bloodline limit, which throws strange shadows over his similarly colored Akatsuki cloak. Still, Itachi manages to catch sight of a faint rectangular outline resting on top of the table, near one of Madara's elbows, and his eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

The two Uchiha simply eye each other for a few long minutes, and Itachi cannot help but notice that Madara looks considerably worse than he had during the last time they had seen each other, which had been just about nine months ago. The elder Uchiha is a great deal more withered, now, his hands trembling somewhat underneath the shelter provided by the long sleeves of his cloak, and Itachi can easily pick up on the slight, barely noticeable – but very unhealthy – wavering in his chakra signature.

When Madara finally speaks, he is so quiet that Itachi can barely hear him – aside from that, though, his voice is the same as it always has been. Low, and coming in a disturbingly insidious, almost serpentine hiss. "It has been quite a long time, Itachi."

Itachi says nothing, merely inclining his head a fraction of an inch. With Madara, the less said, the better.

Madara does not like this; displeasure twists his gaunt features for the barest of moments, although his tone is as carefully controlled as ever. "Have you come any closer to accomplishing your assigned objective?"

Itachi is careful to ensure that his tone is as self-assured and smooth as Madara's. "…I have been gathering information regarding the current regime," he lies effortlessly.

Madara shifts slightly in his chair, his dissatisfaction evident. "Zetsu and Kisame," he says, at length, "have been gathering followers in Grass for the past half year – it is likely that they will be able to overthrow the current leader and establish Zetsu as the new Kage by the end of the month. Kakuzu is in the same position, in Waterfall. After the coup in Grass is complete, Hidan will assist Kisame in becoming Mizukage, and Kisame will likely achieve that status by the beginning of next year. Even Deidara has made a small amount of progress in Stone. It will be the most difficult for Sasori, in Sand – but he has been working toward his goal, as well."

The weight of the words left unsaid lies heavily between them, and Itachi matches Madara's glare with an equally intimidating one of his own. "I have stated on numerous prior occasions that I want nothing whatsoever to do with my former village," he replies tersely.

"Neither does Sasori," Madara counters implacably. "Regardless, each Akatsuki member will assume control of and become Kage of their former village – that was the operation decided after the destruction of the statue that held the bijuu. This way, despite our failure to harness the power of the jinchiruuki, the world will still come directly under our control."

"Hidan's former village is inactive," Itachi returns immediately. "Instead of aiding Kakuzu in Waterfall, he may claim Konoha."

The reaction is immediate; Madara's eyes flash a deadly crimson. "You forget your place – that is not for you to decide."

There are a few moments of tense stillness between them, and, accurately reading the expression on his once-protégé's face, the elder Uchiha subtly switches gears, his tone becoming softer, more persuasive. "Have you forgotten who it was that came up with the idea of suppressing the ambitions of the Uchiha clan once and for all?

—And, at this, Itachi's fingers tighten around the arms of his chair slightly, despite his best attempts at maintaining his customary emotionless façade.

A soft smirk twists one corner of Madara's lips upon noting the oh-so-predictable reaction; after all, there always has been only one way to get under the younger Uchiha's skin. "Do you not desire revenge, Itachi?" he murmurs. "Not even a little?

Part of Itachi is desperately trying to shrink away from the calculated re-surfacing of these long-suppressed memories, because this part of him knows that he is being shamelessly manipulated, but – he is listening, now. And Madara knows it.

"Would being Konoha's Hokage be so very terrible?" he asks quietly. "You know that our noble bloodline was always destined to rule the village – even from my time. Things have come full circle, now; it is vulnerable, and you can easily take it. We will remake it into what it should have been from the very beginning…and the Uchiha clan will rule once more."

A strange sort of irony flickers through Itachi's charcoal-gray eyes. "There is no Uchiha clan."

The words would have been as devoid of emotion as usual, if they hadn't caught in Itachi's throat by the ending of the sentence, and Madara brushes his fingers over the top of the faint rectangular outline of the object resting at his elbow. "That could be easily rectified," he murmurs, sounding all to satisfied with himself.

Before the statement even has time to fully register, the Bingo Book slides fully across the table – already open squarely to page ten. Itachi tenses even further in an immediate response, and when he looks up at Madara again, his eyes are a dangerous, bladed shade of blood red. "What—" he hisses, his voice pitching lower and more venomous.

Madara only shakes his head, talking over him in his customary sibilant hiss. "Pretty little thing, isn't she?" he inquires, his tone heavy with all sorts of implications. "Extremely talented, as well. Just sixteen, and already A-ranked and jounin level; also possesses the capacity to surpass her mentor, the Godaime Hokage, if she has not already." He pauses for a moment, letting it sink in. "…She is rather close to Naruto Uzumaki, the aspiring future Rokudaime Hokage, as well. Naturally, considering her background, Sakura would know all sorts of information that another aspiring Rokudaime could find highly useful."

Part of him realizes the truth in what Madara is saying, but… "She would never—" Itachi begins, but Madara shakes his head dismissively.

"Not consciously; too loyal for that, I suppose," he considers out loud. "However, one of your more creative genjutsu, in conjunction with any other of the more…conventional…methods of extracting information from a young girl, would prove to be highly effective."

Interestingly enough, Madara immediately notes, these words also do their part to trigger one of those extraordinarily rare, subtle physical reactions from the younger Uchiha. Itachi's eyes are icy with cold disdain, although, for the briefest of seconds, Madara also discerns something else – an emotion a little darker, more intense – and hastily suppressed by the conscious mind.

Again, a slight smirk tugs at the corner of his thin lips, as he finally realizes that Itachi might just have another pressure point. So, it's like that, Itachi?

He pushes the metaphorical knife a bit further, slowly twisting the blade between the Uchiha prodigy's ribs, as he reclaims the Bingo Book and makes a point of Sakura's image with a little too much interest. "Pink hair and green eyes," Madara says quietly, his words almost lost in the sound of the rain. "Such wonderfully exotic good looks, as well."

Despite his best efforts, Itachi cannot help but shift slightly in his chair, unable to disguise how uncomfortable he feels at this turn in their conversation.

Madara only continues the strategic assault, knowing with a cold certainty that he has the younger shinobi right where he wants him. "Tell me, Itachi," he begins abruptly, "how does it feel to live life without a purpose?"

Itachi blinks at the apparent non sequitur, before his gaze regains its usual cold guardedness. All of a sudden, he knows where Madara is going with this, and—

Kami, he cannot even tell himself to resist, because he cannot deny that it is absolutely true. For five years straight, ever single one of his actions and thoughts had been motivated by his goal of dying at Sasuke's hands, so that Sasuke could once again restore honor to the Uchiha name. And he had succeeded in that, so that when he had died, at the hands of his own younger brother, he had been truly happy, for the first time in years.

Tell me, what do you do when you have fulfilled your purpose in life, and you die immediately afterward with no regrets – and, not even two months later, you are brought back for no apparent reason? When your entire previous existence has been totally dominated by one goal, what do you live for when that has been completed? How many times will you sit up all night and wonder why you were forced back here, when all you want to do is go back from where you came? How many times will you bitterly wonder what is in store for you, now? You are a clan-killing, disgraced former prodigy, an S-class criminal wanted in five countries, and a member of the most infamous organization in shinobi history. Some would say that this is a chance for redemption. An undreamt-of miracle. A divine opportunity.

How do you reinvent yourself, after almost twenty-one years of this set existence? You will never be able to start over as a civilian and live some sort of mundane, ordinary life – no, that is a laughable thought. You will just stay awake, night after night, and dread the thousands of long, fathomless, purposeless, empty days that await you.

"…Think about it, Itachi," Madara almost purrs, inhumanly satisfied with the sheer degree of confliction clearly reflected in the younger Uchiha's eyes. "You are one of the three most talented shinobi in the entire history of the Fire Country. You were born to be a leader; to wield unimaginable power. Together, we could lead Konoha – and, in the greater scheme of things, the world – into greatness unlike anything it has ever seen before."

Once again, a few long, tense moments of silence reign in the darkened room. "I refuse to be your puppet," Itachi replies, at last, through gritted teeth. "Your ambitions are not my own."

"Then what are, Itachi?" Madara returns, his tone oddly knowing. When the other man remains stubbornly silent, he slowly redirects his gaze to the open Bingo Book in front of him. "…Or perhaps she has a part in them, hm?"

Itachi's eyes narrow even further. "I am afraid I do not follow your meaning," he replies coldly.

"Predictably enough," Madara murmurs, taking his time with the words, "your little kunoichi is one of Naruto Uzumaki's many devoted supporters. However, the boy is kept occupied wit his training in Waterfall – where Kakuzu and Hidan will soon have free reign. That Jiraiya should prove little opposition…and what could anybody do if a little accident happened to befall the Uzumaki during his training? Neither he nor Jiraiya have any experience in the usage of medical ninjutsu, and of course, Sakura is with you."

Itachi says nothing. Can say nothing, because this makes so much sense, even though he doesn't want it to.

"Of course, little Sakura would undoubtedly be terribly depressed after hearing about Naruto's tragic death," Madara continues, now sounding almost bored. "Both at the loss of her teammate and best friend, and because then, there would be nobody to overthrow Danzou's regime." He fixes Itachi with an unblinking stare, once again. "And that is where you come in. She will be at her most vulnerable, and in the absence of her dear Naruto to take Danzou's place, you will be her – and the rest of Konoha's – salvation…regardless of all previously held ideals about Akatsuki motivations."

"I strongly believe that you are underestimating several crucial points in this operational outline," Itachi replies, forcing himself to keep his tone as cool and detached as possible. "Namely—"

"It will be difficult, yes," Madara responds smoothly. "But not impossible in the least. Just allow yourself to envision the end results."

"And that would be?"

In response to the steely bite of the inquiry, Madara only smiles a little – which, somehow, manages to be even more unsettling than his twisted smirk, as his fingers brush over the pages of the book in front of him. "What a striking picture it would make – the Rokudaime Hokage, who just happens to be one of the last three living Uchiha…and his beautiful medic-nin wife, taught by Tsunade herself. Konoha would fear you and love her, and it would be perfect."

For the briefest of moments, Itachi is nothing but utterly tongue-tied. He cannot say anything, he can't think about rebuttals or logistics or retaliatory statements—

The genjutsu is so subtle that Itachi actually does not realize that he is under the influence of one in the first place; it melts in that seamlessly with his own subconscious thoughts. It is the Uchiha compound – namely, the kitchen in the clan heads' manor, the one that Mikoto had renovated herself and taken so much pride in – as it had been six years ago; elegant, perfect, whole, alive. Red and gold sunset streaming in through the wide, ceiling-to-floor, clear windows, reflecting into the warm, light brown wood décor of the room. And Sakura fits into this vision just perfectly; not sixteen-year-old Sakura, but Sakura as she will be about six or seven years from now. Despite her snow-white, form-fitting medic-nin's coat, and the look of obvious exhaustion on her face as she leans against one marble counter tiredly, stifling a yawn, maturity has developed her good looks even further – she is enough to make his breath catch in his throat, a little. Her attention is entirely trained on something beyond Itachi's line of vision, though, with soft affection unlike anything he has yet seen, written on every one of her features.

He thinks he blinks once, and misses something, because in the next second, Sakura isn't alone any longer.

Naturally, it is strange, seeing himself six years older. But his physical features are not what Itachi focuses on; rather, the Kage's cloak that he wears – except that it is in Akatsuki black and red, instead of red and white. And then such trivial matters are beyond him, as Itachi watches himself step forward, gently taking Sakura in his arms. She smiles at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in greeting, much as she does now, and they exchange a few soft, unheard words, before easing into a slow, tender kiss.

It looks so natural that it is almost heartbreaking; like it is something that they have done a million times before. It is something that he needs to tear his eyes away from, to break the genjutsu, and when he comes out of it, Itachi is breathing a little raggedly, and he has to rake his fingers through his hair, scraping his nails against his scalp, so that the tiny pricks of pain somewhat help in regaining his composure. His pulse is pounding in his ears, and he has never felt so—

"Pretty, isn't it?" Madara inquires, almost solicitously. But then he smirks once more, and even in his thoroughly rattled state of mind, the small gesture sends cold shivers down the length of Itachi's spine. "…And, of course, just think about the children."

Suddenly, the last piece of this puzzle, of Madara's overarching objective in all of this, falls into place – and before he even realizes what he is doing, Itachi's bloodline limit evolves into the Mangekyou, lethal intent written all over his normally impassive features. His words catch in his throat, though, and wither and die, as he involuntarily remembers Orochimaru's attempts to use his own body as a host, so many years ago—

Then, he is across the room, pinning Madara to the wall by the throat, and Itachi becomes vaguely aware that he is breathing even more heavily, now. "It won't work," he hisses, his voice like the bite of cold steel. "I have no such interest in her whatsoever."

For the first time in their little exchange, Madara's eyes flash with open malevolent intent. "Really, Itachi?" he hisses back. "Really?"

This genjutsu is even faster, even more vicious in its assault, and it is both achingly slow and far too fast. It is Itachi, back in his (too humid, likely because the window has been left open) hotel room in Lightning, with Sakura – brushing his fingers against her dampened hair, which is thrown up into a messy ponytail…which, in turn, does its part to call attention to the very liberal amount of bare skin exposed by her emerald-green silk camisole and short black shorts. She is standing on the tips of her toes, brushing her small hands over the length of his chest until they meet and intertwine behind his neck, and—

"I missed you so much," she whispers, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the sensitive skin over the pulse point of his neck. In response, Itachi gives a low, almost strangled purr of satisfaction, slipping his hands up the clinging silk of her top, so that his cool, long-boned fingers trace abstract patterns on the abstract skin at the small of her back…

Then, it is suddenly too cold, and the room is different – bare, save for a bed shoved into one corner, and a dresser moved against the opposite wall, along with a large mirror, mounted on the top of it. Sakura is dressed in her customary outfit this time, standing in front of the mirror, and her eyes are closed, lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Itachi is standing behind her, now, his arms wrapped around her slender waist, holding her close, and tiny, visible shivers run down the length of her body as he presses slow, tentative kisses down the side of her neck. Sakura trembles when his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin on accident, and then she twists against him all of a sudden, pushing against his arms impatiently. Itachi isn't sure how, but he seems to know what she wants – and he closes his eyes for a moment, taking in and reveling in the slight pull of metal against metal as he gently pulls the zipper on the top of her customary crimson vest all the way down. Sakura arches against his hands, then, trying to further the contact and gasping a little, as she shrugs her top off, so that it falls to the cold wooden floor as she turns to face him—

Before Itachi can even blink, the scene changes again – they are back in their room in Lightning, and it is still too humid, but that is perhaps the last thing on his mind as he threads his fingers through Sakura's hair again. Her fingernails are scraping against his back so hard that it almost hurts, but their hearts are pounding in perfect sync, their breaths ragged, when not entirely formed through desperately kiss-stifled moans, and—

"…Interesting," Madara muses out loud, and then there is nothing except the two of them in the darkened conference room. "You do truly want her, then – it would not have had such an overwhelming effect on you if you did not."

Itachi is slowly, surely, starting to feel incensed all over again, like he needs to curl his fingers around Madara's throat and tighten and twist and savor every one of his last, strangled gasps for breath – but kami, he cannot do anything about it; not when he can still feel Sakura's strawberry-glossed lips against his, the curves of her body underneath his hands when she had arched into his touch—

He has not felt this intensely sensitized in years; not since the last time, with Shisui. He cannot seem to think in a straight line, and he slowly becomes aware of the fact that he is sitting down again, his elbows braced against the table, his fingers buried in his hair, still panting slightly.

Knowing that Itachi will never be more vulnerable than he is right now, Madara slinks back into his seat across from the Uchiha prodigy. "Just listen, Itachi," he whispers silkily. "Konoha needs a real ruler. You need to take advantage of this opportunity to fulfill the true inheritance of this bloodline…and indulge in your one personal desire. And, as for myself – this body is slowly deteriorating. I need a new host, and I will settle for nothing less than a member of the newest generation of the Uchiha clan."

Itachi's eyes are flickering back and forth between their customary charcoal gray and crimson, in a pointed display of emotional instability, but in that instant, Madara knows just what he has to do to get what he wants.

And when he speaks again, it is in Sakura's voice. Not the seductive way she had purred Itachi's name during the earlier illusions, but in that soft, half pleading, half flirtatious tone she uses when she is trying her hardest to convince him to do something – like try some of her strawberry pocky, or not Katon a hole right through a pair of elevator doors.

"Say yes, Itachi?"

Just like that, the next level of the genjutsu kicks in, and in the next second, Itachi even feels like his lap is being straddled by an invisible, perfectly Sakura-sized entity; there are even phantom fingers brushing against his hair, and the lightest of strawberry kisses against his lips, and he has to clench his fingers into white-knuckled fists in order to prevent himself from reaching for the girl he knows is not really there.

No, no, no

"Yes," Itachi says, at last, the word coming out in a ragged gasp, and his eyes are haunted as he lifts them to meet Madara's impassive gaze. "Yes."

And Madara only smirks again. "Good."

-

Lightning

-

Why is the house so freaking dark?

Sakura cannot help but bite her lip unhappily, even as she draws a small sphere of illuminating chakra to her hand. The mint-green orb throws strange shadows over the walls, and she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to keep focused. It is the worst kind of weakness for somebody in her position, and on top of that, it is absolutely irrational, as well. What kind of kunoichi – what kind of missing-nin – is afraid of the dark? She was never plagued with this fear back in Konoha, but now, it is a more or less constant feature of her life.

It is times like this when she misses Itachi.

Upon realizing that her traitorous mind has actually vocalized this forbidden sentiment, Sakura's left eye actually twitches in outright displeasure. Screw Itachi and his stupid oh-look-at-me-I'm-going-to-totally-waste-my-second-lease-on-life-by-continuing-to-be-an-evil-Akatsuki-member-who-does-nothing-but-ruin-lives…outlook. She can track down this escaped convict by her own damned self, thank you very much.

Stupid Itachi.

One of the doors father down the hallway creaks, and Sakura's muscles stiffen a little as she cranes her neck in order to give it a cautious look. The once-fine manor has long since fallen into disrepair after the death of its original owners, and it is now simply covered in cobwebs and shadows and layers upon layers of choking dust. It's…more than a little creepy, honestly, especially as this expansive locale – which lacks basic safety amenities such as, you know, locks – is now infamous for being a hiding place for various escaped criminals and other refugees from the law. In the entire time that Sakura has been here, though, she hasn't sensed so much as even a hint of a foreign chakra signature inside the mansion, but then again, she has only thoroughly explored the west wing—

As if on cue, something soft and subtle flares slightly, from the opposite end of the manor, and Sakura turns around sharply. It disappears the very second that she does so, but she's always been an adequate enough tracker to be able to follow it without a problem. She takes a deep, calming breath anyway, trying her best to steel her nerves, as she moves to the very side of the hallway, so that she is sheltered by the shadows.

Sakura makes her way to the east wing as fast as she can, while still managing to be as quiet as possible. There have been no other flares in that chakra pattern, so she can infer that he hasn't switched locations, which is good for her – and after a few minutes, the pink-haired kunoichi finds herself staring up at an absolutely massive pair of hand-carved wooden double doors that are a strange shade of stained dark red. The doors are barred shut, but she closes her eyes for a split second, double-checking to make sure that the entirety of her immense reserves of chakra are ready to be used; a habit that she has developed since her last encounter with the Root captain. When she opens her eyes again, they are firmly resolute, and in the next second, her punch nearly sends the solid doors flying off their hinges.

Sakura enters a little warily, throwing careful glances around her surroundings. It appears to be a ridiculously large drawing room of some sort, dominated by an immense circular table that is covered in at least ten layers of dust and cobwebs – but, strangely enough, there are no windows…and there doesn't seem to be anybody else in here, except for her. There aren't any apparent hiding places, either.

Before Sakura even has time to finish the thought, she is already slammed facefirst against the nearest wall – which had been about thirty feet away from her. Her knees weaken immediately, and she slides to the floor, her body going limp; despite the instinctive pretense of weakness, though, she immediately deduces that the impact against her back that had driven her into the wall…had felt like water. Like being slammed in the back with a fifty-gallon capacity hose, but the back of her vest is completely dry. Water jutsu, of course, which is just wrong, because the escaped convict she is supposed to be tracking down is just a civilian—

Whoever this is has to approach her, though, and Sakura even hears the distant footsteps in front of her, as she lets her head loll back against the wall at an odd angle. She is in "proper working condition," as Itachi would put it, of course, but she can afford to maintain the pretense until they are within striking distance.

It takes serious effort to prevent her muscles from tensing, though, as she feels whoever it is place their hands on her upper arms, gently easing her to her feet. This small gesture is the first thing that sends alarm bells ringing through Sakura's head – these hands aren't what she would expect from a typical shinobi or escaped convict. The fingers feel unusually delicate, the palms soft and uncalloused, as they lean her against the wall, before carefully brushing her bangs away from her forehead and checking for any wounds where she had slammed against the wall. Sakura holds her breath, trying her best to temper the temptation of looking out underneath lowered eyelids to see who the hell this is.

Then, however, this dilemma is taken out of her hands when the he-she-it-thing holding her sighs impatiently. "What the hell, Suigetsu?" she – definitely a she, Sakura realizes immediately and a little wryly – snaps loudly. "That was totally unnecessary; you could have killed her or something!"

So there are two of them.

As if on cue, Sakura hears another set of footsteps approaching, and somebody else sighs, but this voice, when it comes, is distinctly male. "Do you have to be such a friggin' drama queen, Karin? She's fine. She's not even bleeding."

"Whatever," the Karin person exhales. "I think she's unconscious, though. Just pick her up and set her down on that table over there, and then we should probably go get – you know."

When Suigetsu makes to obey Karin without question, Sakura inwardly thanks the kami for whoever this unknown girl is, because she may not know it, but she's helping so much. Karin eases her into Suigetsu's arms, and Sakura can't help but observe that, for some reason, he smells like he's just taken a bath in saltwater or something – and, oh, she seriously can't wait to find who these two are and what they want with her.

She waits until she feels Suigetsu firmly behind her, and then, Sakura screws her eyes shut and counts to three.

Suigetsu never knew what hit him.

In actuality, it is Sakura's chakra-loaded right elbow, driven in a vicious strike into his ribs. Her eyes snap open immediately, and she is rewarded by the sound of six sharp cracks, a surprised shriek from Karin's direction, and the definite slam of Suigetsu flying back and colliding with the wall.

Sakura spins around in that exact instant, poised to strike farther – but then she stops dead, her eyes widening.

It turns out that the half-unconscious and saltwater-smelling shinobi who is lying limply against the wall is actually kind of familiar – dressed as he is in those light lavender clothes, and that memorable mid-back-length white hair, not to mention the sword strapped across his back…and the tall kunoichi, as well, with her distinctive, flame-red hairstyle—

Suigetsu and Karin. Two of the four shinobi she had seen in that glade a week ago.

Two members of Sasuke's team.

For a few moments, it actually feels like Sakura's heart stops as she and Karin just stare at each other incredulously.

"What the hell—"

The two kunoichi stop dead as they realize that they had both said the words at the same time, but then Karin glares at her, rushing ahead so much that she has difficulty not tripping over her words. "You were unconscious!" she accuses heatedly, circling Sakura like a lioness on the hunt. "And I think you killed Suigetsu, too—"

Sakura can't help but feel a little amused by the righteous indignation in the other girl's tone. "I faked," she replies easily. "It's what medic-nin do. And…Suigetsu's not dead – his ribs are just fractured."

Karin raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the words, and for another few moments, the two kunoichi just size each other up warily; but surprisingly enough, Sakura finds that she is the first one to break the silence. "Look," she says bluntly, and Karin blinks in surprise. "I don't necessarily want to fight you. Just let me go, and we're not going to have any problems."

Karin actually snorts at this, flipping the longer side of her hair back over her shoulders and giving the ex-Leaf kunoichi an appraising look. "Yeah, that's funny. Sasuke wants to see you, and he's not going to take no for an answer."

For the second time that day, one of Sakura's eyes actually gives a little tic out of sheer irritation. "Yeah, well," she retorts immediately, too irritated even to think about how immature this sounds. "I don't want to see him." …So he can just put that in his juice box and suck it! Inner Sakura completes gleefully.

…And, in response, Karin just stares at her, obviously aghast at the information that has just been divulged. "Why the hell not?" she blurts, before looking somewhat stunned at herself for being so blunt with a total stranger.

Sakura knows that this is terribly irrational on her part, but for some reason, she actually giggles a little. Watching her, even Karin's haughty features are touched by a similar hint of amusement, although the red-haired kunoichi quickly tries to school them back into obedience. "Look…Sakura," she says, a little grudgingly, after the two of them have quieted down somewhat. "I don't think I want to fight you, either. But I'm not going to let you go – whatever it is that Sasuke wants with you…don't you think you can just get it over with? Because he isn't going to let it go until he gets what he wants, even if it means that we have to follow you to the ends of the earth—"

Sakura rolls her eyes a little, even though she is able to admit the sense in what Karin is saying. The thought of Sasuke pursuing her with such devotion makes her emotions spin far too much, and her heart is suddenly pounding at the thought of confronting Sasuke, after so long, and her palms are getting clammy, but—

"…Okay," she replies, although to her displeasure, her voice comes out a little smaller than she would have liked.

Surprisingly, Karin gives her a look that is almost sympathetic, as she jerks her chin toward the table. "You should probably…" she begins. "I mean, Sasuke kind of expected Suigetsu and I to force you into it, not have a kind-of rational conversation about…"

"Yeah, I get it," Sakura replies, trying her best to keep her tone as casual and offhanded as possible.

There is a slightly awkward silence between the two kunoichi, as Karin tries her best to battle her intense curiosity and Sakura tries her best to battle her sudden, relentless case of nerves. "Okay, well," Karin says abruptly, turning away. "I'm going to go get him, so…"

Karin stares at her expectantly, and Sakura sighs again, rolling her eyes as she does so. It seems like she's been getting a lot of this lately. "I won't go anywhere," she replies reluctantly. "You can trust me."

Karin turns back to her and nods, looking serious. "…Thanks."

Despite the sheer horrible-ness of this situation as is, Sakura can't help but realize that Karin could easily have made it one hundred times more difficult. "Hey, Karin?" she calls, when the other girl is halfway out of the door. "…You too."

It could just be the shadows of the hallway outside, but for the briefest of seconds, Sakura can actually swear that Karin smiles at her, a little, before the solid doors close again. Shutting her in with an unconscious Suigetsu and later…with Sasuke.

As Sakura slowly makes her way over to the circular table, she actually does almost feel nauseous – enough for her to feel glad that she hadn't eaten anything after that waffle. She won't attempt to escape, after promising Karin that she wouldn't; besides, it is all too likely that that other member of Sasuke's team, not to mention Sasuke himself, are lurking somewhere within the manor…and she definitely wouldn't look forward to running into either of them in a dark hallway.

Her heart is fluttering a little, now, almost like a nervous butterfly, as she rubs her hands over the dusty table in absentminded, almost mechanical movements. She desperately wishes it was less dark in here.

Lowering herself onto the table is…uncomfortable, as well. The wood is too hard against her back and the rest of her body, and Sakura shifts positions a little, stifling the urge to bite her lip. All of her instincts are screaming that this puts her in far too vulnerable of a position, one that she definitely doesn't want to be in, around Sasuke—

Sakura has to close her eyes, in an attempt to calm herself – besides, she is supposed to be unconscious, or something like that. She can't seem to think in a straight line, and despite her best efforts, her body just doesn't seem to be cooperating with her mind's orders to stay calm.

Sakura isn't sure how long she lies there. Rationale tells her that it cannot be too long, but it feels like an eternity.

And then she hears the door open.

Ohkami—

Sakura instructs herself firmly, desperately, not to panic. She is an A-ranked kunoichi; the former apprentice of the Godaime Hokage, yes, but no shinobi training has ever prepared her for something like this.

She doesn't dare opening her eyes, even as she feels the footsteps getting closer and closer to the table. Her medical instincts have kicked in, though, and from the steady rate of her breathing, she knows that she looks flawlessly unconscious.

Sakura doesn't anticipate his touch, and, at first, she wonders if it is a hallucination brought on by her increased state of nervousness. It is feather-light, but that slightest brush of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her temples as he brushes a few locks of hair out of her face, sends hastily repressed, entirely pleasurable, shivers down the length of her entire body. She doesn't dare to open her eyes, or to make a single movement, but she can just feel him standing beside her.

Sakura's pulse jumps frantically as Sasuke's hand gently slides toward the side of her face, so that he is lightly tracing the line of her jaw – and then, every hair on the back of her neck stands up as she feels him bend over her, so that his lips just barely hover over the sensitive skin of her right ear.

His voice is lower than she remembers, almost identical to Itachi's – and it is also a little hoarser, and not so guarded. "You don't have to pretend, Sakura."

She jumps. She actually jumps; sitting bolt upright – and, in a potential sign that she just has terrible luck with both Uchiha brothers, nearly bashes Sasuke's head against her own in the process. It is only his lightning-quick reflexes that saves him, and in the next second, his long, cool fingers wrap around her wrist, holding her firmly in place.

And, for the first time in so long, after everything that has happened, Sasuke and Sakura lock gazes.

She had been about to say something; she is sure of it. But then the words die in her throat, and she just stares at him wordlessly. And, for once, Sasuke looks similarly lost for words.

"Are you alright?"

Sakura just blinks in a response to the somewhat awkward inquiry, and in the next moment, she pulls her wrist free of Sasuke's grip. "Absolutely lovely," she replies acidly. "And you?"

Sasuke looks slightly thrown at her tone, and he takes a step back, before inclining his head a fraction of an inch. "Fine."

They are both silent for a few moments, and then Sakura swings her legs off the table, still somewhat unsure of how exactly to feel. "Well, then, now that we have that settled," she says coldly. "I'll just be going now."

And, just like that, Sasuke is in front of her, effectively blocking her exit. He makes no move to restrain her physically, but the intensity in his eyes is enough to give her pause. "…No."

It has been an insanely difficult day, even before this, but now, Sakura's nerves have reached their breaking point. "What the hell do you mean, no?" she almost screeches, and it is a tribute to Sasuke's skills as a shinobi that he is able to dodge the neck-breaking punch that had been aimed at his jaw.

Then, with just a blur of motion, Sakura finds her hands pinned behind her back, and Sasuke leans in, over her back, so that his chin almost brushes her shoulder. She tenses immediately, but there is no force in his grip, and no threat in his voice – just soft, almost uncertain curiosity. "Have you been alone for all this time?"

"I don't appreciate the interrogation," Sakura snaps back angrily.

His hands tighten around her wrists ever so slightly. "Just answer the question, Sakura."

She had known she blamed him for everything that went wrong, yes, but this bitter, acidic resentment is something new, burning in her throat. At the same time, some rational part of her realizes that she can't answer this truthfully; she has to derail him from this dangerous topic. "What's it to you?" she spits. "It certainly didn't bother you the first time around, did it?"

Now, Sasuke moves to stand in front of her – and, luckily enough, she seems to have succeeded in her goal. "I – you weren't alone," he counters, but maybe it is just her experience in reading Itachi, but Sakura can see that he is now just as uncomfortable as she is. "You still had Naruto and Kakashi—"

Sakura laughs scornfully, pushing him away and sliding off the table as she steps closer to him; unconsciously cornering him against the nearest wall. "Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. You just have no idea what you did, do you?"

For the first time, a flash of anger makes its way through Sasuke's charcoal-gray eyes, and in the next second, Sakura catches her breath, as she finds herself pressed back against the wall, with Sasuke holding her by the wrists. "I do," he breathes, their noses barely an inch apart, and Sakura feels her eyes widen at their proximity. "I broke your heart, didn't I?"

This time, the tears almost do spill over, and Sakura tries her best to struggle against his grip. "Shut up," she gasps, feeling so furious and hurt that she could gladly just jump on him and strangle him with her bare hands. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Sasuke just holds her tighter, watching her closely, and the anger is gone now, replaced by something that could almost pass as sorrow or regret or something else that Sakura is certain that he can't feel. "I did," he murmurs, and he is so close that Sakura can count every single one of his long, sooty eyelashes. "…And it was a mistake."

It takes a long time for these words to register, and when they do, at first, neither Sasuke or Sakura makes a move.

She isn't sure which one of them initiates it, but it feels so perfect that it's stunning. Sakura is vaguely certain that she has dreamed about this for years upon years, and…it never even came close to what the real thing is proving to be.

Sasuke kisses like Itachi.

Sakura doesn't know where the thought comes from – it just seems to materialize out of nowhere, out of the softly contented blankness that had settled out of her mind. And, in all honesty, she tries to push it away immediately afterward. She shouldn't be thinking about Itachi while kissing Sasuke.

But, after a few moments, she can't seem to think of anything else. She is exactly a head shorter than Sasuke, and in reflection, it feels a little off, not as perfect as it did at first. But she wants it to feel perfect like it had been, like everything should be.

At last, Sasuke pulls away ever so slightly, and their foreheads rest against each other's, as they just stare into the other's eyes, both of them unsure of what to say or do.

"Come with me, Sakura," Sasuke murmurs, at last. His voice is even hoarser than before, more raw emotion within it than she has ever heard from him. "You won't have to be alone any longer – Juugo is sweet; you'll like him…and Suigetsu and Karin can be annoying as all hell, but they're alright, really."

Despite her better judgment, Sakura just leans closer, letting Sasuke hold her close. She feels so conflicted that she can barely think straight, but she knows what she has to do.

"Yes," she replies quietly, her voice muffled by the fire-scented skin of his neck. "I will."

Sasuke looks down at her, and for a fleeting second, she can swear that he gives her the smallest of smiles. "Good," he whispers huskily, before leaning down again, gently angling his head toward hers.

This time, Sakura closes her eyes and lets herself enjoy it for ten seconds exactly.

Then, she slowly reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tracing her fingers down the sensitive skin there, and eliciting the softest of tiny purrs from Sasuke.

Like Suigetsu, he never knew what hit him.

Like Sasuke had, three years ago, she pushes her fingers into the pressure point at the base of his neck, hard. Unconsciousness is immediate, and her knees buckle under the weight of catching him.

Sakura doesn't know how exactly she manages to support him on their way back to the table, before settling him down on it carefully. She cannot bring herself to leave immediately, though, and in the end, she brushes a few locks of hair out of his face, just as he had done to her, before bending down and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek.

"…Thank you, Sasuke," Sakura whispers, and it takes all of her strength to keep her voice from breaking.

And in the next second, she is gone.

-

She blatantly skips out on the mission; doesn't even make an attempt to find the escaped convict that she had been assigned. Sakura just goes back to the hotel room in Lightning and sits on the floor for the longest time. She had forgotten to close the window before she had left, and now, by nightfall, it is unbearably humid.

Sakura takes a cold shower that doesn't help with anything, and does nothing to reduce the tightness in her throat or the persistent burning in the very back of her eyes. Her skin is as flushed and overheated as it had been earlier, and out of sheer desperation, she upends her bag in the bathroom sink, before extricating her emerald-green silk camisole and short black shorts from the pile of clothing. Itachi isn't here, anyway, so there isn't any harm in it.

It is late by the time she crawls under the covers, nursing a pounding headache and thanking all the kami that this horrible day is over. Sakura lies awake for the longest time, and she isn't sure when it is that she finally falls into a fitful sleep. Her dreams, when they come, are just as restless and unpleasant; they are vague and disturbing, with a strangely genjutsu-like quality to them, but she is too troubled to think that last point through any further.

-

The first thing Itachi does when he materializes in their room in Lightning again is wish that he could be far, far away. Because it is just like the genjutsu that Madara had inflicted on him earlier – down to such minute details as the humidity and kami, Sakura's clothes.

Except that he is too bone-weary to actually flee, and Itachi only makes his way over to the bed so that he can sit beside her. She is tossing and turning a little, and he freezes when he realizes that she has woken up. He instinctively moves to relocate himself to the floor in response, but Sakura only shakes her head drowsily as she pulls herself up into a sitting position, rubbing at her eyes blearily as she does so. She still feels far too disoriented in the aftermath of that strange dream, but part of her is just glad that he's here.

Itachi stiffens even further when Sakura curls herself closer to him, setting her head on his shoulder. "How was your day?" she asks softly, sounding so tired and emotionally drained that he is sure that she won't remember this exchange tomorrow.

A small, ironic smirk twists the corner of Itachi's lips as he wraps an arm around her, easing her against his chest – completely platonically, of course. "…Uneventful," he lies quietly.

"Yeah," Sakura whispers back, nestling more comfortably into his light hold, so that he won't see her blink the tears away. "Mine, too."


to be continued


Well. I'll bet you didn't see that coming! :D Thank you to the ever-amazing SwiftKick for her sweet editing job, as well. :) Otherwise there would have been weird typos galore, and nobody wants that.

For anybody who would appreciate a little bit of clarification: The aspect of Madara's exact plan regarding Itachi and Konoha is to have Naruto assassinated by Kakuzu and Hidan, so that Itachi can become Konoha's Hokage. Therefore, he (Madara) can help "reinvent" Konoha into what Madara feels that it should have been from the beginning. Madara also wants Itachi and Sakura to get married and have children; reestablishing the Uchiha clan, and especially so that Madara can pull an Orochimaru and take one of their kids as his new host body.

Last but not least, thank you so much to everybody who left well-wishes for my mother. She's still in the hospital, and will probably be for a while longer, until they find out what's wrong…but your kind words of support mean the world to me. :)