Before The Dawn

by Lady Silvamord

Fifteen-year-old Sakura never expected to become a traitor to her village, but in a Konoha ruled by Danzou, she has no other choice. Finding her path entangling with the village's most infamous renegade, though, was another story entirely. ItaSaku AU.

14. Slow Burn

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

-

Chapter Fourteen: Slow Burn

-

The first thing Sakura does when she enters their room again is to matter-of-factly remove the large, heavy blanket that had formerly been spread across the double bed, before managing to drag it over to the dark purple suede loveseat on the other end of the suite. Without a word, she re-shoulders her bag and disappears into the bathroom – although, to be fair, Itachi is too busy attempting to come to grips with the blinding, seemingly unreal pain in his ribs, to fully register her movements.

He has suffered numerous horrific injuries before, especially in his last fight with Sasuke, but this is unlike anything that he has experienced in the past. Sasuke had managed to fracture one of his ribs somehow; that had hurt enough, but having six of the bones broken clean through is simply agonizing.

By the time Itachi finally manages to ease himself down on the bed, holding his breath as he does so as to avoid moving them more than necessary, Sakura emerges from the bathroom again. She looks even tinier and more enveloped in Naruto's too-big orange pajamas than usual, and even as he takes a shallow breath that sends fine purple stars exploding across his inner eyelids, Itachi cannot help but feel a prick of…almost-remorse, as well, for the dark shadows underneath her eyes and the unusual ashen paleness of her skin. She must have executed an extraordinarily complex and taxing series of medical procedures for the past few hours to have taken such a toll on her.

Itachi does not want to ask, he really does not, but the words work its way free of his throat anyway, despite the fact that it hurts to speak, as he nods at her clothing. "…How is he?" he inquires, a little stiffly.

For her part, Sakura simply gives him a colorless look as she settles down on the sofa, nudging the blanket aside. "Fine," she replies shortly. "I stayed with him for an hour after he woke up, and he's not experiencing any significant discomfort, thankfully."

There is a slightly awkward pause between them as Sakura looks down at the weave of the blanket, plucking at the thread with her slightly shaking fingers, and Itachi simply watches her, struggling with what to say, if anything.

"I'm glad," he manages (lies, maybe? Itachi cannot be quite sure) at last, fixing his gaze on the curtains that have been drawn over the window.

The quiet words hang between them for a few moments, until Sakura laughs bitterly, wrapping the heavy blanket around her as she does so. "Yeah, I'm sure you must be."

Ignoring the acerbic retort – as, for once, she has actually seen right through him – Itachi lets himself glance in her direction again. She is adjusting her position against the sofa with her blanket, and for the first time, he blinks, realizing the implications of her actions.

"What are you doing?" he asks, before he can stop himself.

Sakura gives him a cold look in response, smoothing her fingers through her hair. "Sorry, but I don't believe in sleeping with the enemy," she replies icily, staring up at the blank white ceiling and closing her tired eyes.

She hears nothing but silence for the next few moments, and a tiny, vindictive part of her is glad that the words have seemed to cut him as deeply as she had meant for them to. True enough, when it finally comes, Itachi's voice is a little lower and more strained than usual. "In that case, you may—"

Sakura guesses at the rest of his sentence and preempts the words by waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. "Don't bother," she says coolly. "Trust me – you're going to need the bed a lot more than I will, anyway."

She falls silent then, turning her back to him, and Itachi forces himself to look away, closing his eyes against the shattering pain ranging through his entire chest. It is making him dizzy, now, and it seems unbelievable that just last night, he had fallen asleep with Sakura curled so comfortably, trustingly, against him. He distantly remembers being a little confused at the way she had pressed as close to him as humanly possible, unconsciously seeking his touch and presence even in sleep – but, strangely enough, he had not found it unpleasant in the least. The last person to afford him with that kind of unconditional affection and trust had been Shisui, and at least he had not managed to destroy that beyond all comprehension and belief.

Not for the first time, an intense wave of mingled sorrow and longing at the mere memory of his former lover washes over Itachi, leaving him feeling even more bereft than customary. He is not sure if this heightened emotional restlessness comes from missing Shisui, which, admittedly, a small part of him is always feeling, as if the loss had happened just yesterday…or the even rawer aftereffects of what has come to pass in the past hours.

He had chosen Sakura over Madara. He had essentially sacrificed the prospect of a true future with her; of the possibility of everything that Madara had showed him coming to pass. It is incredibly foolish more than anything, but Itachi really had deluded himself into believing that it could have worked. He has no real interest in ruling Konoha, yes, which is why Madara would certainly compensate for that, but…

He had lost all hope of a real future for himself on the night that Shisui had taken her own life, because as strange as it feels to admit it, Itachi knows that part of him will never cease to be a pacifist at heart. There is more of his father's strong, unyielding iron and steel in his personality, but there are smaller, softer, often-suppressed parts of him that have been shaped entirely by Mikoto – such as the desire, however quiet and subtle, to have his own people (family?) to care for; maybe even love. And it had taken almost six years for the embers of such aspirations to light again in the wake of his lover's death; Sakura is the only person he has come close to since then, the only person he could consider ever possibly loving, at this point, and these are embers that have been fueled by Madara's genjutsu, ironically enough.

Itachi puts a cold hand to one of his bruised lungs, inhaling lightly and smelling the residue of the burnt out, heavily pine-scented candles that he had lit earlier. He wants her so much that it frightens him, and because of that, he had made a choice, yes, but his lips twist a little bitterly at the realization that he still is not sure if it had been the right one. He promised Sakura that he would abandon Madara's plan – because if he had not, she would have either killed him with her bare hands, or simply left him behind and returned to the Uzumaki…so that if they ever met again, it would be from across enemy lines. And, because Itachi does not believe in self-delusion, he can easily admit that the prospect of that was simply too much to bear.

So he had told Sakura what she wanted – needed – to hear, and now, all he is doing is struggling with the idea of whether that was actually the truth or not. After a few moments of thought, Itachi concludes that, in the end, it all essentially can be summed up in two separate choices.

He can tell Sakura the truth, and somehow, the two of them will have to find a way to eliminate Madara from the equation entirely, as a result. Subsequently, he will allow himself to enjoy the two or so years that Sakura has with him, and when the Uzumaki is fully trained and ready to mount a successful coup against Danzou, reclaiming the position of Rokudaime Hokage – he will have to let Sakura return to Konoha, because of course she would want to go back to the place she calls home.

The thought leaves a bitter aftertaste in Itachi's mouth and makes his chest hurt in a way that has nothing to do with the six broken ribs and two bruised lungs. He has no desire to become accustomed to her, to care for her, love her, even, and then let her go. He does not want to be the object, or plaything; the mere diversion that Sakura occupies herself with for two years before returning to her real life in Konoha and the prospect of a future with some proper shinobi. No – Itachi only plays for keeps, in essence, and the very thought of such a state of events is unconscionable. Letting go of Shisui had been difficult enough, and he will not put himself in a position like that ever again.

Itachi's eyes flicker open, then, their customary charcoal-gray shadowed much darker with thought, and he manages to turn his head a little to the side, observing the slow rise and fall of Sakura's slender, orange-clad shoulders. She is clever enough that he has found himself dangerously close to underestimating her intelligence on previous occasions, and their physical conflict earlier today had proved that she has the capacity for and knowledge of techniques that he cannot even begin to guess at. Be that as it may, though, and it is not arrogance that prompts Itachi to think this – but he can outmaneuver her. There are still hundreds of ways to fulfill Madara's plan…with larger amounts of discretion. It will be risky, but the end results will be more than worth it.

Still, the idea of betraying Sakura outright like that is, undeniably, just as distasteful as the alternative – kami, seeing her almost start to cry when she had asked him what the Akatsuki had offered him that she couldn't, had startled Itachi more than he thought was possible.

Itachi closes his eyes again, feeling a strange, heavy sort of weight settle over his chest. As if on cue, his ribs give another painful twinge that nearly drives the breath from his body, and the discomfort is only compounded by the creeping beginnings of yet another tension headache. Perhaps the best course of action would simply be to wait until tomorrow to decide what he is to do – he is not looking forward to talking to Sakura about this, but it is more than necessary. At the same time, strangely enough, he desires that things be at least somewhat resolved between them as soon as possible; nothing feels right about this situation.

There are hours until sunrise, though; hours that he will not spend getting any form of rest whatsoever, due to the damage that has been inflicted on him, and despite the momentary blackout that this causes, Itachi sighs minutely, absentmindedly resting a hand on his ribs and feeling the breaks there.

Meditation will do nothing to clear his mind, and it will be a hell of a long night.

-

Around twelve hours later, in response to the blades of sunlight that are slanting through the silky purple curtains and into the room, Sakura slowly opens her eyes. It takes her a few moments to remember where she is, and why. All the healing yesterday had taken an immense toll on her body, one that she still feels the aftereffects of today, and—

She frowns a little, stretching as she does so, as she directs a glance over at her partner, who appears to be sleeping fitfully, breathing less than is healthy, with his fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist around the bedsheets in order to prevent himself from possibly turning in his sleep and agitating his broken ribs further.

…And it looks like she can start the day with an excessive dose of healing as well.

Stifling the tiny pang of remorse she feels – after all, breaking six ribs and bruising both lungs, and then leaving the victim of such an assault untreated for a period of at least fourteen hours, could be considered a form of torture – Sakura pulls herself out of her makeshift bed on the sofa, before stretching thoroughly, and working out the numerous kinks in her spine and stiffness in her legs and neck after spending a less-than-comfortable night sleeping there. She grabs her bag off the floor and heads toward the bathroom, although not without throwing another wary glance back at Itachi and trying to convince herself that it hadn't been vindictiveness that had prompted her to make him suffer through that for so long. It was simply that she had already been almost out of chakra; exhausted to the bone…

No. It hadn't been vindictiveness. It had been sheer irresponsibility.

Sakura nudges the bathroom door shut with her hip, before mechanically reaching for her toothbrush and paste. She shouldn't have injured Itachi like that last night, while knowing that she didn't have enough chakra left to heal him immediately. At first, her intention had been to hurt him as much as possible without the aid of two katana; to inflict as much pain on him as the assassins had inflicted on Naruto, but now the thought makes her a little sick to her stomach. You shouldn't feel guilty; her worn-looking reflection reminds her ruthlessly. Itachi pretty much planned to kill your best friend, didn't he? And he didn't seem to feel a whole lot of remorse over that.

The water that works its way free of the tap is clean and clear, but it is far too cold as Sakura cups it in her hands and splashes it over her face a little bitterly. If only Itachi could go back to being the person she had thought he was when she had just turned fifteen…when all she knew about him was that he had ruthlessly murdered his entire family in cold blood, save for one, irrevocably ruined Sasuke's life as a result of that, and, to make matters worse, the fact that he and his organization seemed determined to hunt Naruto down and exterminate him like he was some kind of animal – only for the demon that, through no fault of his own, he held within him.

It hadn't been hard to hate Itachi, then – when he had simply been the essence of all evil. Quite the opposite, really.

On the same note, though; now Sakura is displeased to find that it wouldn't be hard to love him, either, if all of these issues that stand between them would just go away. If both of them could just stop being so conflicted—

Sakura closes her eyes, too exhausted at the very thought to even entertain similar ones further. And as she slowly rakes her fingers through her tangled hair, she decides that, more than anything else, she hates the shades of gray.

-

Half an hour later, when Sakura finally steps out of the bathroom, working her fingers through her damp hair, she stops dead, even before she manages to close the door behind her.

"Are you trying to spite me or something?" she blurts, too aghast to phrase her thoughts more carefully. "You know that with those kind of injuries, you shouldn't be walking, or drinking, or—"

In response, Itachi simply raises an eyebrow at her, setting his almost-drained mug of heavily fragrant orange tea on the window seat and leaning against the wall a little in reaction to the strain this is taking on his body. "Spite," he replies silkily, drawing his Akatsuki cloak closer around him and letting his eyes linger on the girl. "Why, Sakura, it is amusing that you, of all people, should mention that."

Predictably enough, Sakura blushes angrily as she bridges the distance between them and tilts her head back a little to look her partner squarely in the eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" she hisses, before pausing a moment and giving him a calculating look. "Maybe I should clarify a little – I'm not sorry for breaking your bones, but I do apologize for not healing you immediately afterward."

Itachi's nerves are worn far too thin by the physical and emotional stress of the situation, and it takes a conscious effort for him to bite back a snarl of frustration as he narrows his eyes at her in warning. Obviously unaffected by the dangerous look in his crimson-and-black gaze, Sakura places her hands on her hips and looks at him evenly. "You're probably not going to like what I'm about to do, but it's necessary," she warns.

Itachi chooses not to reply, although every single one of his muscles does stiffen when the pink-haired kunoichi reaches up, her fingers brushing his collarbone as she carefully unclasps the fastening that holds his Akatsuki cloak in place. The light touch, and the way her fingertips glide over him as she eases it off his shoulders and down his arms (although not the distasteful look that she gives the black-and-red patterned material as she lets it fall to the floor) all do their part to set his traitorous nerve endings on fire. It would not be an exaggeration to say that he has literally dreamed about this before – although, to be fair, on those occasions, Sakura had most definitely not been coldly, clinically evaluating him as if he were a particularly troublesome medical case scenario.

Itachi's expression is unusually guarded as he looks down at her, and, ruthlessly reminding herself that she is a professional, Sakura meets his gaze with equal coolness. Underneath the cloak, he wears his customary black pants and matching, close-fitting black t-shirt – it is lined with silver mesh, with sleeves that come right to his elbows , and her world spins for a moment as she suddenly realizes that, if Itachi only wore a black flak vest over it, he would be dressed exactly like Sasuke.

The pink-haired kunoichi can feel the weight of his nonplussed gaze on her, and she takes a deep breath, trying to regain her composure and customary professional demeanor. "Can you take it off?" Sakura asks calmly, the bite of her fingernails into her palms reminding her not to make the dangerous mistake of confusing the two brothers or even thinking about Sasuke – which means remembering what had happened between them last time – even for a moment. "…Or do you need my help?"

Too late, she remembers that even implying that (god forbid), the great Itachi Uchiha could ever possibly need something, is a major faux pas. Sakura cannot help but flinch a little – both at the cool look in Itachi's eyes in response to the statement, and at the pain that pulling the shirt off must be causing him, although his pride is far too great to allow him to show any sign of weakness or discomfort in front of her.

And then, as if making a point, Itachi allows his grip on the material to relax, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor as well, as he meets her gaze squarely; not accusingly, but careful to keep himself completely devoid of showing any physical emotion. In response, Sakura isn't fully conscious of biting her bottom lip like that, hard enough for it to almost bleed. Distantly, she realizes that her eyes must have widened, but she just can't stop staring – and for once, this isn't some kind of dizzying hormonal response to the more than adequate visual stimulation that she is faced with. Before seeing Naruto's state immediately after the attack yesterday, this would have been enough to make her gasp out loud.

Stunned, the pink-haired kunoichi lets her gaze drag slowly down his front – from his muscled upper arms and shoulders to every inch of his flat, toned chest. And the vivid, violent bruise patterns that curl over his leanly muscular torso like shadows.

She had beaten Itachi black and blue. Literally.

All of a sudden, the inherent conflict in this; the memory of her rage at him last night, when she had found out that Itachi was the reason she had almost lost somebody she loved – versus the sudden knowledge that she had really, really hurt him, is enough to almost overwhelm her. Sakura's throat tightens for a moment, because last night, she had asked him to choose, but right now, if somebody asked her to, she wouldn't be able to do the same.

Because, kami help her, she thinks that she loves them both.

It takes a moment for Sakura to get her voice to even a point where it could be considered understandable, but her words, when they come, are still a little scratchy and uneven. "Do you want to sit down?" she mumbles, unable to keep herself from looking determinedly down at the carpet. "It'll be easier that way…"

His bare feet making absolutely no noise against the plush carpet, Itachi makes his way to the bed in silence, effortlessly masking his slight confusion over Sakura's sudden change in demeanor. Some absolutely ridiculous inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Deidara had firmly asserted that she had simply been reduced to speechlessness for the first few moments; after all, despite the fact that they have essentially been living together for the past five months or so, she has never seen him…shirtless. But then it became evident that it was the violently patterned black, violet, and blue bruises that range the length of his chest that had been drawing Sakura's undivided, unblinking attention like that – not silent admiration of the lean, toned musculature of his upper body.

(Not that he finds this knowledge the slightest bit disappointing in the least, Itachi is quick to clarify, for his own benefit.)

He rests his back carefully against the headboard, stretching his legs out in front of him, as he watches his partner through heavy-lidded eyes. Breathing is pulling and painfully stretching at the broken bones far too much; enough to make simply holding his breath seem infinitely preferable. Sakura seems to be biting her lip again – in thought rather than distress this time, Itachi is quick to notice, and, noticing his scrutiny, she inclines her head seriously, before joining him from the opposite side of the bed, intently looking down at his bare chest. She settles herself on her knees, already bringing the chakra to her hands as she visually evaluates the range of injuries. Mending all six bones and healing the lungs will be uncomfortable for both of them, but that cannot be helped.

"I'm…going to start," she informs him, taking a deep breath and making it a point to remind herself that her hormones – meaning, the completely irrational desire to gently smooth her hands over everything that she had broken without a second thought yesterday and maybe press a kiss to his collarbone or jawline and apologize, for real this time – do not work on Akatsuki members whom she still has not resolved things with. "It's going to feel a little cold, alright?"

Itachi murmurs his assent, still watching her with the kind of softly heated intensity that never fails to make Sakura want to abandon every rationalization she has just force-fed herself and just throw herself on top of him.

…Except that now, if she did that, she would likely damage the bones beyond all repair, and it is only this thought that prevents Sakura from engaging in that particular course of action.

Instead, she cautiously runs her fingers down the length of the extraordinary bruising that covers the right side of his chest. She feels Itachi catch his breath, beneath her, and Sakura looks up at him apologetically. "Sorry," she apologizes hastily.

Choosing not to inform her that the slight intake of breath had been more in reaction to the almost-forgotten sensation of another's hands on his skin like this, Itachi only inclines his head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement, silently willing Sakura to return to her gentle physical examination. She does, with her eyelids lowered in utter concentration as she traces her fingertips over the length of each broken rib, feeling the precise location of the break. He can feel her chakra seeping into his skin, although the way she is touching him makes Itachi nearly forget the physical discomfort caused by the mending process. Her hands are small, the nails trimmed short and painted with some kind of protective, shiny clear coating, he notices for the first time, and nowhere near as calloused as his, and kami, he could get used to the sensation of having them tentatively explore every inch of his bare chest, shoulders, and neck…

Thankfully unaware as to the direction that Itachi's thoughts are taking, Sakura spares a moment to look up at him, obviously worried. "That's four of them that have been mended completely – are you still feeling any discomfort?"

"Not there," Itachi replies quietly, albeit without really thinking about his words – and when he realizes what he has just inadvertently admitted, it takes a conscious effort for him to mask his grimace of displeasure.

Sakura tilts her head a little to the side, looking most adorably confused as she runs her hands down the length of his chest, checking for any other irregularities. "Where?" she asks, intrigued. "Is there anything I could do to fix it?"

A small part of Itachi dies a little on the inside.

Misinterpreting the rather distraught expression on his face, Sakura sighs in sudden realization of her mistake. "Oh, it must be your bruised lungs," she incorrectly concludes, looking somewhat sheepish. "I should have taken care of those first, but I can fix those right now, before I finish up your ribs…"

Before Itachi can inform her that there is really no need for that at the moment, she has already carefully slid herself onto his lap, positioning both open palms right over his lungs. For some reason, his skin is a little warmer to the touch than it had been at the beginning, and he seems somewhat restless, beneath her, watching her through lowered eyelids and thick, sooty eyelashes. Beginning to feel a little guilty all over again, Sakura bites her lip in concentration, easily healing the bruises on his lungs and then moving both hands down, in a slow caress that half-soothes, and half sets the rest of Itachi's nerve endings on fire, to the two remaining ribs that she needs to fix. "Does that feel any better?" she inquires, concerned, immediately after she finishes those.

Itachi closes his eyes then, looking strangely like some kind of contented cat. "More than you know," he murmurs, almost to himself. Denying himself the temptation to pull her fully into his arms and act on all of the impulses that he has been trying his best to control for the entirety of their healing session is becoming more and more difficult by the moment; to the point where he is no longer sure whether he wants Sakura to remain in his lap or not.

Unpleasantly enough, she solves this dilemma for Itachi by sliding off him a little uncomfortably, blushing as she does so. "You're sure you're all right?" Sakura asks, making sure that she looks into his eyes and nowhere else. They are really close together, and she can feel the heat emanating from his now-unbruised chest, and damn it, who told him that it would be a decent idea to simply lounge around with his shirt off, anyway? It is a patently un-Itachi-like thing to do, anyway, so—

…So why is she feeling so disappointed that he has reached for the one light blanket she had left on the bed last night and is now carefully pulling it up to his shoulders?

Damn it.

For a moment, Sakura struggles with herself, looking down at her fingernails studiously. For the past fifteen or so minutes, it was almost as if she had just been healing him up after an assignment that had become a little more troublesome than was preferable – which had happened often. It was a pleasant return to how things used to be between them, before all of these…complications had ensued. She sighs a little, out of sheer nostalgia, drawing her knees to her chest and absentmindedly hugging her arms around them. Part of her wants nothing more than to forget that this horrible episode ever happened; wants to go back to being missing-nin and partners trying to survive from one day to another – or, better yet, to pretending that they could just be two normal people, trying their best to work out a fledgling relationship.

Except that their 'relationship' or 'partnership' or any other adjective that ends in –ship is doomed to crash and burn unless one of them takes the initiative to work their issues out – because, as much as she wishes otherwise, this isn't something that either of them can just pretend never happened.

"So," Sakura begins abruptly, and she is pleased to find that her voice is strong and doesn't waver in the least, even in light of the…sensitive subject matter…that they are about to discuss. "Anyway…about last night…"

She trails off a little uncertainly, looking up at him, and Itachi sighs slightly, closing his eyes. He does not want to talk about this any more than she does, but it cannot be helped. "What do you wish to know?" he returns impassively.

Sakura raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by this tactic. "Everything," she replies, in an equally deadpan tone.

How very predictable. Itachi leans back against the pillows propped up against the headboard, taking a deep breath, which actually does not feel all too unpleasant now that he has been healed, and for a moment, he struggles with where to begin.

"…Madara Uchiha," he says at last. "Does the name hold any significance to you?"

Sakura just barely manages to keep herself from inhaling sharply in response, because this must be the person, the Akatsuki Leader, that he was referencing during her failed interrogation attempt yesterday; it isn't a common name, after all, but there must be some sort of mistake—

Judging from the way his partner's eyes are slowly widening and that she is paling at an alarming rate, Itachi is able to gather that, no, apart from the recognition of the clan's name, it does not. Unsurprising, as it is not history commonly taught to those of her level, but he only wanted to make certain of the necessity of explaining all of it over again.

And he does, with Sakura's rapt, unblinking attention. Pleasingly enough, she is an uncommonly rapid learner, pressing him for details and putting pieces of the puzzle together before Itachi even finishes fully discussing the idea at hand. Finally, after half an hour has passed, she leans back against the headboard, frowning pensively, as if trying to figure out whether she finds his necessarily edited retelling of his last meeting with Madara satisfactory or not.

"So," Sakura says absentmindedly, partly just for the sake of sorting out her tangled thoughts. "He wants you in particular to take control of Konoha because…he failed in his attempt to do so all those years ago, and he never stopped believing that the Uchiha Clan should have been the ones to rule the village."

"Correct," Itachi affirms, as he rises from the bed, before slinking over to the window seat and pulling on the shirt that he had discarded earlier.

Sakura watches him quietly, the expression in her eyes unreadable. He seems to be telling her the truth…even though she now can read Itachi well enough to know that he most definitely is not telling her the whole truth. In response, she slides off the bed as well, slinking toward him purposefully, and it only takes her a few steps to corner him where he stands; his back to the wall, with their bodies just a few inches apart. Unfazed by the coolly amused expression on his face, Sakura glares up at him, refusing to back down. "Why did you agree to the terms of his plan?" she asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Even though the past few days have proved to her that she doesn't know Itachi nearly as well as she thought, she stands by what she said last night – he doesn't seem to be the overly ambitious type. He doesn't have anything to prove. "…And don't even think about telling me that you didn't have a choice," the pink-haired kunoichi warns, even more acerbic bite coming into her tone as she remembers their verbal conflict of the previous night.

This is exactly the question that Itachi had hoped to avoid most, and, infuriatingly enough, it seems as if Sakura simply refuses to accept an ambiguous answer…although her physical attempts to intimidate him are only serving to remind the elder Uchiha that, with one quick movement on his part, he could easily reverse their roles, and that could prove to be most interesting indeed.

The tangible steely determination and defiance in her posture, not to mention her fiery expression, though, makes the prospect of such a thing decidedly impractical. For a moment, Itachi allows himself to subtly admire her – and only because he cannot think of a more effortless outmaneuvering of her question, and that he knows Sakura well enough to realize that this will effectively deter her from broaching the topic again, he takes this action one small step further.

Intentionally lowering his guards like this goes against all of his natural instincts, but this time, Itachi deliberately, appreciatively, and very obviously lets his gaze drag slowly from Sakura's wide eyes to the tips of her toes, and then back up again. "As I told you earlier," he murmurs in a purposely low tone, stepping even closer, in order to make it very clear as to what he is supposedly considering doing to her. "He offered me what I desire most."

Just as Itachi had intended her to, Sakura freezes, her completely stunned expression making an incongruous counterpoint to the slow heat in his gaze. He couldn't possibly mean what she thinks he does.

No. No. What the hell, no. Why would Itachi even imply that she is what he desires most? Almost as disturbingly, why would this Madara Uchiha person would essentially…whore her out to him? What would be the logic and reason behind that? It's not like this unknown, powerful stranger has the power to be like, oh, Itachi, if you just agree with my evil plan to take control of Konoha, I'll hunt down your little partner for you, wrap her up in a pretty pink ribbon, and see to it that she ends up in your room on one of these nights…

Sakura shudders a little at the very thought, the implications of the idea scaring her beyond all belief, and…well, kami, now she can't stop herself from thinking about it, about him, about what it would be like—

She shoves those thoughts away, biting her lip hard. No. There is something clearly wrong here. She is obviously misunderstanding his statement somehow, but right now, she doesn't exactly care to find out the specifics of this. As a matter of fact, this can just go into the list of things that she can pretend has never, ever happened to her.

Trying to calm herself, Sakura swallows over her dry throat, forcing herself to keep her gaze level as she looks back up at Itachi – even though, inadvertently, she had backed away from him a few paces, as a result of her thoughts. "Can you take him?" she asks abruptly, her nerves too rattled to consider phrasing this any smoother; kami, she hasn't ever even seen Madara Uchiha, but there is already something about him that frightens her so much that it sends chills down her spine.

Itachi blinks, momentarily startled by the sudden change in pace. "…Pardon?"

Sakura crosses her arms over her chest defensively. "You can get rid of him, right?" she asks coldly. "We can get rid of him?"

Itachi closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, thoroughly thrown for a loop at the realization that his partner is discussing the possibility of mounting an assassination attempt on one of the three most powerful shinobi in the entire history of the Fire Country – if not the world itself – as if she is doing nothing of greater consequence than asking if he can kill a spider for her.

Impatient at the lack of a response, Sakura places her hands on her hips, glaring at him anew. "Whatever technique he's used for so long to keep himself alive must be fading. Either he's going to need to take a new host body within the next two years—"

Itachi winces, almost imperceptibly.

"—Or he'll just wither away," Sakura finishes, having not noticed the tiny physical gesture. She frowns up at him thoughtfully, smoothing a few locks of hair flat against her collarbone in an instinctive nervous gesture. "As his protégé, of sorts, do you have any idea who he's considering taking as his next host? Because he shouldn't be allowed to even take a host body; eliminating him will be all kinds of difficult afterward, once he's returned to full power…"

She gives him an expectant look, and Itachi actually coughs as an excuse to look down at the carpet for the briefest of seconds, shaking his head as he does so. "I do not," he replies abruptly.

Sakura mulls this over for a few moments, her eyes shadowed with thought. At long last, she holds one of her hands out to him reluctantly. "Would you like to talk about this over…lunch?" she asks, a little hesitantly.

After a few tense moments, Itachi reaches out, entangling his fingers with hers, and allowing Sakura to lead him out of the room. His fingers are cool, and the gently intimate gesture does its part to soothe her strained nerves; to her surprise, though, he makes no move to release her once they are both in the hallway. They are silent for the entire elevator ride down, and for the first time, as she sneaks a discreet look up at him, Sakura briefly wonders at the toll that all of this has taken on him. Itachi looks incredibly weary and deeply exhausted to the bone in every way – and if he were anybody else, she would use all of her advanced medical skills to come to the complex diagnosis that he really just…needs a hug. And at least three weeks of well-deserved vacation time.

Except that, even after all they have been through and done together, part of her still cringes at the idea of thinking about how Itachi would react to something as blatantly affectionate and touchy-feely as a simple hug. Not to mention that, as a missing-nin, three weeks of vacation would definitely lead to both of them going completely broke, nearly starving to death, and having to spend every night camping out in forests of suspicious quality. It's not like they could ever afford to indulge in the relaxing, romantic escapes that Lightning is supposed to be famous for, according to the numerous advertising pamphlets that are strategically located all over their hotel.

…Or that Itachi could ever be receptive to the idea, and Sakura actually giggles aloud at the very thought of what his reaction would be if she ever suggested it to him.

He directs a somewhat nonplussed look down at her, and, trying her best to mask her amusement, Sakura gestures vaguely at a tiny café on the nearest street corner with her free hand – Itachi still has possession of the other one, and she isn't quite sure how that makes her feel. "Does that one look alright?" she suggests tentatively.

The café thus indicated is adorned with bright pink umbrellas that ornament the center of each small, outdoor table for two, and despite the subtly revolted expression on his face at the very thought of being associated in any way with such an establishment, Itachi warily approaches the café and orders a sushi platter, keeping his eyes firmly downcast and mumbling the entire order in a complete monotone. Balancing the plate in question in one hand, he returns to Sakura, who seems to have found them a table with a less violently pink umbrella…and who favors him with a surprisingly shy smile and what could possibly be the faintest of blushes, in return.

It is a new look on her, one that Itachi finds that he rather likes – although the expression is partly born out of Sakura's not-too-pleasant thoughts that something about their interactions today, now especially, feels somewhat off balance. They have shared countless comfortable meals before, but today, the atmosphere is strangely tense, in a way that it hadn't been even when they had just been beginning to get to know one another.

Even though she really doesn't have that much experience in real romantic interpersonal relationships, Sakura can easily conclude that this newfound awkwardness has to be because of the reality of her and Itachi's rapidly changing relationship – kami, it seems as if the dynamics between them are shifting incredibly between one day to another. Part of her just wants to let her guard down around him and see what happens between them, but her rational mind seems to be doing nothing but vehemently arguing the wisdom of that point. Being torn in two directions like this is incredibly frustrating, and Sakura frowns unconsciously, propping her chin up in one hand.

Misinterpreting her expression somewhat, Itachi sits up a little straighter, hastily ceasing his introspective contemplation of the irritatingly insubstantial chilled raspberry tea and chiding himself for forgetting that she had not intended this to be a simple social excursion "Did you wish to talk about—" he begins quickly, but Sakura interrupts him by shaking her head, looking a little flustered.

"No," she says, with a firmness that she doesn't feel; although, to her displeasure, when she moves her hand away from her uncomfortably flushed face, relocating it to the table, her fingertips brush the edge of his hand. Infuriatingly enough, Sakura can swear that Itachi looks amused when she hastily snatches it away, determinedly sandwiching it between her knees. "Let's talk about something…normal," she finishes, on impulse. Despite the intense protests of her more rational thoughts, she is still sixteen and sitting across from a man who she happens to be inordinately fascinated with. In turn, despite said individual's questionable allegiances and the presence of more pressing matters, Sakura has a little more on her mind than the necessity of making a plan to assassinate the most powerful man in the history of her country and, as a result, possibly saving the fate of the free world.

The pink-haired kunoichi flinches a little, hiding the gesture by studiously looking down into her sweet raspberry tea. But kami, when she phrases it like that, it just sounds selfish.

Meanwhile, Itachi tilts his head to the side a fraction of an inch, actually looking the tiniest bit…confused. "Normal?" he inquires warily.

Sakura rolls her eyes expressively, all too ready to make some kind of scathing retort, but then—

Nothing.

And Sakura blinks, momentarily stunned.

The realization that she has saved lives and taken them, and lost her virginity on the night after a horrific, violent, bloody takeover of the village she loves, and has fought and killed and would die for, but at the same time, she has no idea about what normal people do or talk about, on something as mundane as…a date, is something that, for the briefest of moments, makes Sakura's blood run cold. By her age, it is something that any civilian girl would have had hundreds of, and she is staring wide-eyed at Itachi, at a total loss for words, unsure of whether this newfound knowledge makes her want to laugh or cry.

"I, um," she mumbles, blushing even more hotly, because seriously, how can she and Itachi ever have a relationship if both of them are completely clueless about everything like this? Frantically searching for any halfway-decent conversational topic underneath the surface of the sun, Sakura finally, desperately blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "When's your birthday?"

A long, uncomfortable silence ensues, during which Itachi rapidly attempts to determine whether he had misconstrued the statement in any way, and Sakura seriously considers ripping the umbrella off of the table and beating herself into unconsciousness with it. What the hell. Seriously. What the hell was that? Maybe she and Itachi are just doomed to be the most socially awkward not-quite-couple ever, and no matter what she does, she will never be able to repair this horrible pit of doom that they have fallen into.

Sakura's agonizing contemplations are finally interrupted, by way of Itachi's customary – if not a little confused – monotone. "Two weeks from today," he realizes, now mildly surprised at the sudden, almost unpleasant realization. He is going to live to see one year more than he had ever meant to, but Itachi is distracted by any similar, deeper thoughts on the issue by the way his partner gasps dramatically, nearly knocking her glass of tea to the ground as she does so.

"Seriously?" Sakura whispers in a rather conspiratory tone, leaning closer to him and seizing on this wholly welcome distraction from the utter hell that their lives have been for the past few days or so. Her skin is still pleasantly flushed and her eyes are shining with palpable excitement, and before Itachi can even gather his senses enough to make some sort of sarcastic comment about the fact that he has nothing to gain from lying to her about this, she actually (accidentally) stamps on his right foot underneath the table in the height of her passion. "Why didn't you tell me?" she exclaims, all awkwardness forgotten – although, after noting the somewhat pained expression on his face, Sakura blushes again, slowly and apologetically rubbing her foot over his. "Sorry…"

At first, Itachi is too busy being somewhat lost as to how such a series of actions on her part could be such an intoxicating mix of unnecessarily violent and painful and completely, hopelessly sexy, to formulate an immediate reply. "It never seemed relevant in the least," he manages at last, still rather distracted by her extensive array of…distractions.

Sakura scowls at him, abruptly ceasing her foot's ministrations against his. "Of course it's relevant! You're turning—" she pauses for a moment, looking at him thoughtfully; he should be five years older than her, so… "Twenty-one?"

Itachi nods minutely, still looking rather vexed at his partner's inexplicable and strange capacity to get incredibly high-strung over the most ridiculous of things…and that he is obviously missing the point of this entire conversation. Unfazed, Sakura shoves her common sense to the most distant reaches of her mind, before reaching out and quite happily taking his hand in her own. "So," she says, drawing the word out. "What do you want to do?"

Itachi blinks at her, nonplussed. "…Nothing."

Sakura frowns, looking at him as if the very prospect is horribly scandalizing her. "You can't do nothing," she replies firmly.

Now thoroughly unnerved, Itachi attempts to extricate himself from the pink-haired kunoichi's grip. "I can and I will," he returns, his tone icy.

Sakura gives him a rather dangerous sort of smile, tightening her hold even further and reminding him just who she was apprenticed to. "Ooh, but you can drink now," she beams persuasively, looking unnecessarily overjoyed as to this fact.

Itachi gives her a deadpan look, and Sakura makes a face at him. "Legally," she amends, already thinking happy thoughts about bars and clubs and margaritas and loud music and decent human socialization, not to mention the elusive possibility of maybe forcing Itachi to dance with her again. Except that it should involve a lot more close contact this time, their bodies pressing together on a crowded, smoky dance floor, or maybe a dark, secluded corner somewhere, and—

Deciding that he may as well complete the crash-and-burn trend of the past few days by raining on Sakura's little parade now; Itachi sighs a little, absentmindedly smoothing his long ponytail out. "I do not and have never partaken in any alcoholic beverages, nor do I have any desire to ever do so," he informs her, a little superciliously.

…At which point Sakura chokes violently on her tea, her cheerful fantasies having been horribly interrupted. And even after Itachi spends the next two minutes valiantly attempting to resuscitate her, she waves him back to his side of their small table, looking too irritated to pretend to be graceful. "Fine. So. That's out of the question, then."

Itachi smirks a little in misplaced triumph, and Sakura only glares at him a little harder, beginning to trail her fingertips menacingly over his calloused palm. This, in turn, only makes the elder Uchiha wonder again if, from now on, every time Sakura tries to be threatening, he will only be able to be uncomfortably aware of what that does to him.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Sakura decides to take on a new tack of questioning. "What did you do last year?" she asks, seemingly innocently.

Itachi actually spares a moment to think about this one. "If I recall correctly, I spent the day verging on unconsciousness, and the entire evening and night coughing up blood," he replies, quite seriously.

Predictably enough, Sakura shudders, interlacing his fingers with hers. "That's why we need to do something extra good this year," she returns quietly. The thought that, if it had not been for Madara, of all people, Itachi wouldn't have lived to turn twenty-one, and they could have never met; that to her, he would only have ever been Sasuke's older brother, the tragic hero, sends shivers down her spine.

Itachi is silent for a few moments, although there is the barest flicker of some unidentifiable emotion in his eyes. It is gone in the next second, though, and he raises an eyebrow at her wryly. "It seems as if I hardly have a choice in the matter, after all," he deadpans.

Sakura smirks at him. "You're learning. How sweet," she teases, before regarding him thoughtfully. "I have some ideas – I mean, a few days ago, I was looking through those information books about the tourist industry here, and you know how Lightning is supposedly famous for their hot spring resorts, right? Well, I remember seeing that there was this one package for a resort about fifty miles from here, where we would pay five thousand ryou for three days. It includes twenty-four hour access to their private springs for two, and for an extra thousand, we would be able to use the – um, I think it was the couples' do-it-yourself spa and massage center – as well. Doesn't it sound relaxing? And there's all this other stuff…"

Oblivious, Sakura continues to delineate the various benefits and perks that come with this exclusive travel package, although in all honesty, Itachi stops hearing anything after private springs for two, and just when he begins to recover, there is something about spa and massage center, and…

With every minute that passes, it is becoming more and more clear that today really is not his day.

"That may be acceptable," Itachi manages, somewhat unsure as how his voice manages to stay quite so cool and detached even when his thoughts are decidedly otherwise.

"Hold on," Sakura says, nudging her plastic chair away from the table and rising, before beginning to make her way over to the counter. "I'm sure they'll have one of those information books here, if I ask for one; they seem to be everywhere…"

True enough, Sakura returns after a few minutes, deeply immersed in flipping through her newly acquired guidebook. Instead of going back to her chair, she makes a sharp detour instead, resting her hip and half-leaning on the arm of his, so that both of them can read it easier. It must be an uncomfortable position, though, and Itachi fleetingly considers pulling her into his lap instead – however, it would be blatantly out of his normal character to do so, and therefore, taking that course of action would involve the risk of Sakura having a heart attack of sheer shock.

Luckily for both of them, she seems to be quite unaware of his thoughts. "Oh," Sakura comments, at last, and the dejection in her tone is enough to call Itachi's attention back to the book in front of him. "It's…damn, we're in the wrong season for the five thousand ryou package. It's only available during autumn or winter; now, we're going to have to pay eight thousand, and that's ridiculous," she finishes indignantly, flipping the book shut, and returning back to her seat, visibly displeased. "…Sorry."

As would be expected of him, Itachi smoothly and coherently responds something along the lines of it not being her fault, while simultaneously busying himself in an attempt to look like this newly disclosed information does not affect him in the least.

Sakura props her chin up with one hand, dejected. For the kami's sake, if he didn't have to be so damned unreadable all the time – she can't even tell if he actually even liked the hot springs idea or not. "Fine," she decides, at last. "What did you do when you were with – you know…Kisame?"

This question, again, gives him a moment's pause. Itachi can remember one specific instance – his nineteenth birthday, actually, when Kisame had thrown a surprisingly Sakura-like fit about how he just had to perform some ridiculously inane activity on this one particular day of the year. Subsequently, Itachi had been dragged along to watch an utterly implausible and logic-defying movie about…vampires.

He tells Sakura this, and predictably enough, her eyes brighten noticeably as she sits up straighter. "That's perfect," she sighs contentedly. "Well, seeing as we can't go to the hot springs resort, and all. Would dinner, a movie, and…walking around…be all right, for you?" she asks cautiously.

Itachi only nods in assent, intrigued by how much care and thought she is putting into it. This is enough for Sakura, though, and she smiles at him, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear. The idea of a casual, normal night out with him is surprisingly intoxicating; a night where – even though it may be ridiculously impractical – they can just forget everything else and be Itachi and Sakura. Not conflicted, tormented, S-class criminal Itachi and general foil to Itachi in every way that matters Sakura, but just…pretend to be a normal guy and a normal girl.

So it's like a—

Sakura doesn't realize that she had actually said the words aloud until Itachi raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. "A…what?" he inquires, his voice as impassive as always.

For reasons that Itachi doubts he will ever understand, Sakura literally jumps out of the chair and hastily speed-walks over to the counter, mumbling something incoherent about returning the guidebook now that they have no use for it, and she subsequently refuses to look him in the eye for the next half hour.

-

Despite the happenings of their actually quite lighthearted interaction at the café, it takes Sakura the better part of two weeks to even begin sorting out her feelings toward Itachi. They are trying to rebuild a decent working partnership and some semblance of trust, but she most certainly does not forgive him and, whenever she gets a letter from Naruto (they correspond regularly now, since she is traveling deeper into Lightning with every passing day, which means that the possibility of making trips out to Waterfall to visit him is becoming increasingly impractical), she doubts that she ever will. Naruto is recovering flawlessly, yes, due to the help of the Kyuubi sealed within him, but the sight of him, immediately after the attack, is irrevocably burned into Sakura's memory.

It's a complicated feeling; hating so many aspects of the person she's falling in love with, hating that she really does love the parts of Itachi that she doesn't hate; hating him for being so imperfect in the first place, and, above all, hating herself for falling for him, regardless.

I didn't choose this, Sakura reminds herself mercilessly, and on a frequent basis. And if I keep doing this to myself, I really am going to go insane.

-

Late during the night of June eighth, it is raining. The sky is an ominous grayish black, slit with blades of lightning that are an unusual shade of pale purple mingled with silver, and each crash of thunder makes the floor of the small inn tremble slightly.

One more flash of lightning, and all of the already-dim lights in the room flicker. Quietly, careful not to disturb his partner – who permanently seems to have taken to the habit of sleeping on the sofas in their various hotel rooms, and who has a pillow wedged firmly on top of her head, as well as being covered by two separate blankets – Itachi turns out the small, orange-glowing lamps, before slowly leaning into the window seat and observing the summer storm raging around the countryside.

It seems poetically appropriate, somehow. For all of Itachi's birthdays, it has always been raining, a fact which his mother and Shisui, in particular, would continuously lament. He never had any issue with it, however; he does not feel that the day in question is particularly significant.

Except for this one – tomorrow. Because, eleven months ago, he had died, and this defies all logic and reason and fate to such a degree that it is almost sickening.

Any other man would be thankful for such a twist in fate, but, as he has always done on this particular night, for the past almost-six years, Itachi thinks about Shisui, and his mother and father, and death, and about being dead, and now, once again, being forced to be living without them, and he feels nothing toward that particular twist in fate but the vaguest sense of guilt and regret.

-

June ninth proves to be a day worse than any other in recent memory. It is depressingly, morosely and monochromatically gray; it rains torrentially until the early evening, so that the streets of the large city that they are staying in come to look more like rivers. The howling wind threatens to uproot trees and results in a few branches scraping loudly and constantly against the window. The power goes out, leaving both of them shivering somewhat and too proud to admit it, and halfway through the afternoon, the ceiling starts to leak, meaning that Itachi and Sakura are forced to stay on the left side of the room or risk getting drenched.

Surprisingly enough, Sakura also kisses him good morning, a gesture which leaves Itachi completely stunned for no less than a minute. She attempts to make both of them cups of orange tea afterward, which results in a dubious concoction so overly sweet and milky it is nearly undrinkable – but which Itachi partakes in without comment. Her sudden civility is pleasing, and he fleetingly allows himself to wonder if this means that she has finally decided that he deserves forgiveness for what had happened two weeks ago.

It is difficult for him, though. Itachi keeps remembering things that he tries his best to forget, during any other day of the year. It is on this one, and October twelfth, that the ghosts – figurative, although their presence is so tangible that it could be literal – of those he has lost, gained back for the most fleeting period of time, and lost again come back to haunt him. When Sakura seemingly casually presents him with a wrapped volume of Shakespeare's most famous tragedies, offhandedly saying something about how it caught her eye and seemed to be something he would like, Itachi almost pulls her into his arms; almost kisses her hard, because in that instant, she reminds him so much of Shisui (and not just because of the uncanny physical resemblance, either) that it hurts. Shisui, who, every year, would buy him a new anthology of tragic poems, each by a different author, and tell him with a scowl that he would be better off if he read something happier.

Itachi almost kisses Sakura for another reason, as well – she is the only real, tangible presence he has left; the only thing that he has that is more than a memory…and the only thing, poetry aside, that is a more than adequate distraction from his conflicted thoughts.

-

Around five in the evening, Sakura dares crossing the invisible line that confines both her and Itachi to the left side of the room, wincing a little at the sensation of her bare feet above the soaked, mildew-smelling carpet. Tentatively, she stands on her tiptoes, looking out of the window into the streets below – the rain has finally stopped, and she can see that there are some people already brave enough to venture out onto the streets, clustering into groups and heading for various restaurants and coffee shops. There is a tiny ray of sunlight breaking through the dark clouds, and although the wind is enough to make the passerby duck their heads a little, it isn't nearly as bad as it had been earlier.

Satisfied, Sakura turns away and returns to the bed, flopping down on it and cheerfully interrupting what she is sure would be some great Shakespearean angst. "Are we still on for tonight?" she asks a little self-consciously, glancing toward Itachi, who is completely immersed in the book.

"Of course," he replies calmly, and despite her better judgment, the two simple words send a brief fissure of excitement tingling through her nerves.

Sakura manages to mumble some sort of semi-coherent reply, before making a swift exit to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it in an attempt to calm herself. Things have slowly been improving between them, so tonight should be just fine. The only difficult part is reconciling her kunoichi instincts, most of which are still telling her to be very careful around him and keep her distance, with…the rest of her, which has different ideas entirely.

The water from the shower is too cold as a result of the storm, and Sakura shivers in the cramped stall, the sound echoing off the frosted glass sliding door. Does it make her unprofessional and a substandard kunoichi to just want him to have a decent night; to maybe distract him a little from whatever emotional conflict he is going through? Even though, as Itachi has told her before, she really does not have the capacity to truly know what he has been through, Sakura would like to think that she understands a little, at least. And it wouldn't take an idiot to know that this day, in particular, would be more than a little emotionally draining for him.

Besides, as undeniably stupid on her part as it may be, Sakura cares for him – and she remembers what he had done for her, on her sixteenth birthday…which had been difficult for her, as well. And partners are supposed to look out for one another, after all.

So she will put her reservations about Itachi aside, just for tonight.

Sakura forces her thoughts to be relatively calm until she steps out of the shower, carefully wrapping the heavy black towel that she and Itachi share, around herself. It is welcomingly warm, but that does nothing to soothe her nerves as she stares glumly between her reflection in the cracked mirror and her bag, which is sitting on the corner of the bathroom sick.

What am I going to wear?

It is the kind of frivolous question that Sakura hasn't asked herself in more years than she cares to remember – and, frustratingly enough, it is accompanied by an ominous stab of foreboding as well. What is one supposed to wear on a…date-thing?

Not for the first time, Sakura is nearly overwhelmed by the sudden sensation of missing Ino; missing home. Her first real date – damn it, she would have spent the entire day at Ino's house, trying on every single outfit that they could get their hands on. Ino would have been as overbearing as always and insisted on doing Sakura's hair and makeup, and they would have painted their nails together and been normal teenage girls for a change, and talked about and incessantly analyzed the guy who Sakura was supposed to be going out with. Most likely, it would have been Naruto, or perhaps Neji or Lee or Kiba. Hell, maybe even Shino. Ino would have pulled out her incredible library of magazines and grilled her about what to do and what not to do and what to expect.

Instead, Sakura is standing, alone, in a tiny, dilapidated bathroom in the Land of Lightning, about two hundred miles away from everything that she once called home. Trying to figure out all these things on her own, and kind of failing at it.

This wasn't how things were supposed to work out.

Yeah, Inner Sakura reminds her ruthlessly, as Sakura watches herself pick up the ivory eyelet lace dress from so many months ago, holding it to her body speculatively. But when life gives you lemons, you're supposed to make lemonade, right?

-

The lemonade turns out to be pretty sweet.

The dress fits just as perfectly as it did when Sakura had first worn it – the hem still hits right at the knee, and the low-necked halter that ties at a simple knot behind her neck still causes her the same amount of distress – and she can't help but smile at her reflection as she remembers her and Itachi's encounter in that one broom closet, during that particular assignment at the museum. She wears the crystal-decorated ornamental comb that Naruto had given her in her hair, and puts on a little makeup, as well. The sheer novelty of all of this experience, strangely enough, distracts Sakura from her more troubled thoughts. It goes against her natural instincts, but it feels nice to have the freedom to just look…pretty. In the Forest of Death, Kin Tsuchi had chided her for her vanity; for her long, luxurious locks, unbecoming and impractical for a serious kunoichi, and since then, Sakura has been careful not to make the same mistake, relegating her appearance to the bottom of her priorities.

She brushes her fingers through her now-dry, straight hair thoughtfully. It falls to the middle of her shoulder blades, now. Maybe it is possible to find a balance, but right now, Sakura is just going to enjoy being the other extreme, for once.

Finally extricating her last accessory from the depths of her bag, Sakura smoothes her palms over her skirt skittishly, checks the straps of her matching, low-heeled white sandals, and gives herself one last, semi-nervous look in the mirror, before making her way into the other room.

At first, Itachi doesn't notice her – which is good, because Sakura is entirely too busy noticing him. He seems to have unconsciously followed her example in finding some different clothes to wear; the black pants are the same, yes, but Sakura can't help but admire the way the new elbow-sleeved, dark red shirt fits him. For his part, Itachi is pacing back and forth in front of the window while carefully, somewhat obsessive-compulsively combing out his long hair, and she blinks, realizing that it is the first time that she has seen it unbound. It is long and silky, falling to the middle of his back, and it should make him look more feminine, but the effect is actually quite the opposite.

It takes Itachi a moment to sense the curious gaze fixed on his back, and the moment he does, he immediately and a little self-consciously begins to gather his long mane into its customary ponytail, before turning to face his partner, who is leaning against the wall and looking somewhat amused.

…Which ends up having the rather untoward effect of making him, for the briefest of moments, actually forget what he had been doing. Itachi remembers Sakura wearing this dress – the day after he had first met her, during their little conflict in the museum, and he also distinctly remembers thinking that it was frighteningly impractical, if his memory serves him correctly. But then, that had been in those infinitely preferable days where he was still cold and detached and professional enough to only think about things in terms of practicality and logic; most definitely not…emotions and impulses, and other unnecessarily troublesome things of the sort.

Sakura smirks at him a little, and Itachi belatedly remembers that his fingertips are still tangled in his hair. A little awkwardly, he pulls them free, still looking at her and rather unsure of what to say, if anything.

"I just need to finish this part," Sakura assures him quite innocently, and it is only then that Itachi notices that she has an impressive length of very thick pink ribbon twined around her wrist. "…And then we can leave in a few minutes, or something."

He murmurs his assent, and under the guise of rectifying the state of his now hopelessly disarrayed hair, Itachi simultaneously sneaks a discreet look at Sakura and the ribbon, while slightly wondering what she intends to do with it—

It becomes clear within a few moments, when his sweet, innocent partner wraps the accessory in question around her slender waist a few times, before tying the remaining length into an intricate, floppy bow, and giving herself a happy little smile.

A bow.

Like the kind of bow one would put on a present.

Upon making this realization, Itachi's subconscious mind has to stifle the rather strong impulse to abandon the idea of leaving in a few minutes, and maybe…take a shower, instead.

And to make matters worse, within the next second, his subconscious mind has to suppress the even stronger impulse to drag Sakura along with him, as well.

For her part, Sakura merely gives him a nonplussed look, wondering why Itachi seems to have suddenly become distracted enough to get his fingers actually tangled between the elastic ponytail holder and his hair.

-

Within the first ten minutes of their…social excursion, Itachi learns three new things about Sakura.

He finds that she is surprisingly efficient when it comes to untangling hair and forming satisfactory ponytails, even when he had proven to be…less than cooperative. Itachi also realizes that he finds the act of holding hands somewhat unsettling, but Sakura seems to feel as if it is reassuring and comforting; therefore, he allows the contact. Not to mention that he still believes that her footwear, at least, is ridiculously impractical, and he would feel completely at fault if she slipped and fell because of his negligence and selfish personal desires.

Last but not least, Itachi discovers that his partner's moral compass is a little bit more skewed than he would have ever believed.

"Come on," she hisses, holding his hand a little bit tighter. "It's really not that big of a deal. The line is stretching up to the end of the block, and we'll have to stand at the end, which means that if it rains again, we'll get soaked and it's going to suck."

Itachi simply shakes his head disapprovingly, once again attempting to guide Sakura to the back of the line of civilians that are queuing up in front of the theater. "No," he hisses in return. "It is lacking in integrity and an abuse of power."

Sakura fairly buries her feet into the ground, continuing their heated, whispered discussion. "You're a freaking S-class criminal and you won't use genjutsu to sneak into a movie?" she scowls. "That's practically a rite of passage! What kind of shinobi are you?"

"A morally upright one," Itachi returns dispassionately. "I have my standards, Sakura."

Now thoroughly frustrated, Sakura resorts to giving him her most shamelessly pleading look. "We can drop some money off at the ticket booth on our way out, I promise."

Itachi freezes, unpleasantly reminded of how this pleading look had led to his being completely manipulated at Madara's hands, and Sakura takes advantage of his moment of weakness to cleverly and swiftly cast a concealment genjutsu over both of them. Smirking with triumph, she effortlessly guides the glowering and reluctant Itachi through the crowd, past the ticket collectors, and into the theater. "See?" she beams, disengaging it as soon as they are safely inside and carefully making their way into the very back row of seating. "Didn't that save us hours of time and agony?"

Predictably enough, Itachi admits nothing.

The movie itself, which starts shortly afterward, is an imported foreign film which has subtitles and is intellectual and interesting and just the kind of thing Itachi would like, which makes Sakura just a little proud that she had found an advertisement for it while casually perusing a newspaper a few days ago. For her part, she is a little too distracted by the novelty of the situation to even pay significant attention to what is going on, plot-wise. This whole…let's-pretend-we're-normal-people-who-are-just-on-a-date-thing is even better than she thought it would be, and for the first time in months, Sakura finds herself completely relaxing. It is so nice to forget that there about the war going on in the shinobi world – about Danzou, political coups and intrigue, the Akatsuki, Madara…and that she's going to be in the middle of a rebellion to reclaim Konoha, maybe sometime soon. And an attempt to assassinate Madara, which could have implications for the fate of the Akatsuki and the world.

It is so nice to pretend that she has nothing more pressing on her mind than whatever intrigue is happening on screen…and the man sitting next to her.

As she leans against Itachi's shoulder, almost unconsciously, Sakura knows that she doesn't regret becoming a kunoichi, even though it has complicated her existence a million times over. It is an inextricable part of who she is, and she knows that deep down, she wouldn't trade her life as a shinobi, for the world. It can just be – horribly stressful, sometimes, and maybe she just needs to do this more often. To step back and try to enjoy and experience the more normal parts of life.

After about fifteen minutes, Itachi slowly readjusts his arm, seemingly casually settling it around Sakura's shoulders and drawing her closer to him, and she makes it a point to studiously examine the screen in front of them, so that he won't see her smile.

-

By the time they leave the theater, it is dark, and Sakura gives Itachi a self-satisfied smirk as she makes it a point to take a detour by the ticket booth and subtly deposit a stack of currency at the side of it. "There," she quips. "Are you happy now?"

Itachi refrains from mentioning that he has actually been quite content and surprisingly relaxed for the entire duration of their evening thus far, in favor of subtly snaking an arm around her waist. This action garners a surprised but pleased look from her as she leans into his touch, and the small group of irritatingly obnoxious adolescent boys that have been following the two of them at a short distance and shooting very appreciative (and unwelcome) looks at Sakura groans audibly, before dispersing.

"It's only about eight, so the restaurants all look like they'll be really busy for about another hour or so," Sakura comments after a few moments of observation, tilting her head back to look at him. "Would it be all right if we just walked around for a while?"

Itachi simply inclines his head a fraction of an inch, and she smiles at him again, leading the two of them on an abstract path throughout the sidewalks of the city. To be completely honest, he is a little distracted as well – it is pleasant to feel as if Sakura trusts him and is at ease around him again, and the way she fits against him is just as disarming. He can feel the gentle sway of her hips as she walks, and for a moment, his step falters as he realizes that he hasn't engaged in such casually intimate contact since his walks in the forest with Shisui.

Every inch of the city seems to be lit up in a way that is nearly blinding, pulses of loud music emanating from every open restaurant or clothing store, and Sakura hums along to it absentmindedly, even as Itachi notices that she is slowly leading them away from the center of the city itself. The new location is darker, lit with softer and more subtle threads of lighting that are twined through tree branches. It is a lot quieter here as well, although he can still hear faint snatches of laughter and conversation at infrequent intervals.

"We're at the edge of the city park," Sakura informs him, as if reading his mind. "I thought it looked prettier." She nods toward one of the nearest trees composedly. "Shall we sit?"

It is a weeping willow, trailing pale purple flowers to the ground. The flowers have an overwhelmingly sweet scent, and Sakura plucks one nearby blossom, sniffing it absentmindedly as she slowly sinks to the ground, bending her legs at the knee and tucking them at her side. Itachi joins her in silence, and for a few minutes, they are both immersed in their own private thoughts.

After a while, Sakura interrupts his reverie by leaning closer, tentatively resting the side of her body against him, and instinctually, Itachi wraps an arm around her shoulders, giving her something more comfortable to lean into. Despite the serenity of this entire situation, of the whole evening, his thoughts are anything but calm. He has not felt this relaxed and at peace for six years, and perversely enough, he feels guilty for feeling this way. As far as Itachi is concerned, he lost the right to feel any emotion resembling happiness on the day he watched his lover commit suicide; on the day that he killed his own mother and father and ruined his little brother's life.

Sakura looks up at him then, a little uncertainly, as if sensing her partner's stormy mood. In actuality, she cannot read Itachi's expression, but she is struck with this sudden, irrational desire to know whether all of this had worked, even a little.

"Are you happy?"

The words are so soft that at first, Sakura doesn't even realize that she had said them aloud, instead of just thinking them to herself, and on instinct, she freezes, hating her stupid propensity to put her foot in her mouth. Of course he isn't. Of course he wouldn't be. It's Itachi, for the kami's sake, who has gone through so much that he's probably physically incapable of ever feeling that way, and where does she get off thinking that her stupid attempts to give him one halfway decent night could ever fix anything?

And why is this making her so upset, anyway?

And finally, in response to her question, Itachi leans forward and kisses her. Hard.

That's a bit of an understatement, really. He had simply, prematurely and completely without warning, captured her lips with his and simultaneously pulled her a little closer into his arms, his hands steadying her, at the small of her back. The movement is so sudden and harsh and overwhelming that it stuns her for a moment, but before Sakura even realizes what she is doing, she is moving slightly, bringing her fingers up to his hair and raking through it as she kisses him back with equal fervor. She doesn't know where this sudden heat has come from, but she is shifting against him a little, seeking deeper purchase and more physical contact; they are a little bit twisted up, literally, both of them unable to find a less awkward physical position to settle into while still keeping their lips locked together.

Itachi finally and a little roughly manages to pull her into his lap, eliciting the briefest squeak of surprise from Sakura, before the sound is cut off as they kiss again. She presses herself closer to him, deepening the kiss even further, and she actually feels Itachi's low murmur of approval as he lifts her more to his level. He is sitting comfortably, his back braced against the trunk of the willow, while her knees are pressing into the hard, thin soil at the base of the tree, the side and front of her body pressed completely against Itachi's chest, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingernails lightly scraping against the back of his neck, as his thumbs draw abstract patterns on the small of her back. Each of their kisses seems to taste more intense and desperate than the next; like he is trying to swallow her whole and just drink her in, and she is attempting to do the same to him…with a little less success.

It isn't particularly relaxing or gentle, like the rest of their night has been, thus far. Their every movement and kiss is restless, a little bruising, and more than a little frustrated, but Sakura really isn't in the best state of mind to analyze things like that just now.

Itachi begins to trace a slow, steady path upward on her back, and Sakura shivers through their kiss as she feels his calloused fingers come into contact with the skin left bare by the halter. She thinks that she trusts him, though, and as if to distract her, he pulls away for a moment, and the pink-haired kunoichi blinks. Before she even has time to become confused in the least, though, Itachi slides the hand on her back to the very ends of her hair, tugging it backward very gently, and pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin behind her ear.

He is a little lost as to how and why he finds himself wanting her so very much. It is very nearly irrational, and it is not because Sakura looks nearly identical to Shisui – although, to be fair, they are nearly identical in spirit, and it is her personality that draws Itachi to Sakura most. For a split second, after Sakura had asked him…that, the question that had started all of this, his instinctive reaction was to think that no, he was most definitely not happy, because he is alive and not dead and that is not what he wants (wanted?) for himself.

And then, strangely enough, Itachi had realized that if he had stayed dead, he would never have encountered Sakura. Never…fallen for her, in essence, and the knowledge of how much she has affected his life in the six months that she has been in it is almost mindblowing. His desire for her is strong enough that he had intentionally agreed to Madara's plan, and in that moment, Itachi remembers his thoughts of the morning after his conflict with Sakura. About thinking that if he couldn't have her, keep her, as his own – regardless of the measures that would have to be undertaken in that case – he would not take her at all.

It had taken two weeks for Itachi to realize that he will not betray her again. That he will do whatever it takes to eliminate Madara, and allow the Uzumaki to assume the position of Rokudaime Hokage, and – he will deal with the repercussions of those actions as they come.

It is bittersweet frustration, knowing that whatever he and Sakura can ever have is simply not meant to last.

That will not stop Itachi from taking advantage of every moment that he has left.

Sakura actually whimpers softly as Itachi sits up a little straighter, easing the two of them closer and continuing to kiss a slow path down the side of her neck. His teeth scrape against the skin there every so often, sending tangible shivers down her spine, and she can't help but gasp aloud, her fingernails burying themselves into the nape of his neck painfully, as he almost playfully nips at her delicate collarbone, his slender, long-boned fingers lightly brushing against the knot of fabric at the back of the base of her neck as he does so. She doesn't understand why, but the small, could-have-been innocent gesture makes her arch into his other hand, which is cupping her—

They both seem to pull apart, gasping raggedly, at the same instant, and when Itachi and Sakura finally gather themselves enough to meet each other's gazes, their foreheads resting against each other as they attempt to regain some semblance of composure, he sees his own thoughts echoed back at him through her eyes.

Sakura is the first to break the silence, tilting her head to the side in order to run her hands down the length of his chest again, while giving him a slow, languorous kiss. Her heart is pounding with mingled nervousness and uncertainty, and it feels so overfilled with emotion that it makes her ache all over as she slowly pulls away from Itachi. "Forget dinner," she whispers, so softly that she can barely hear herself over the racing of her own heart, while resting one hand over his own and brushing her lips against the line of his jaw, because she does know what she wants to spend the rest of her night doing; she really does. "You should take us home."

Itachi's eyes darken just a little as he locks gazes with Sakura, not trusting his vocal cords to manage any coherent sort of response. In the end, he just nods tersely, before leaning down and slowly, gently slanting his mouth over hers.

With the next light breeze that stirs the leaves of the trees, the two of them vanish in a swirl of ash.

They are back in their room within the next moment. The carpet is still damp and the room is too cold and lit only by the single lamp that Itachi had forgotten to turn off.

What are you doing?

Do you think this is going to make anything right?

Itachi ceases the slow, heated kisses he is currently trailing down her throat, and his voice is a little low and rough as he lifts one of his hands from her hips, before gently smoothes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Are you all right?" he asks hoarsely.

It's okay. It's going to be all right. Everything will fall into place.

Sakura gives him a tremulous smile, pressing a light kiss into the hollow of Itachi's throat. "Fine," she whispers back, trying to convince herself, because she mostly does love him, right? She loves almost all of him— "…Perfect."

---

to be continued

---

:D

I know I'll probably get questions about this, and to that, I'll only say – Itachi and Sakura kind of love each other. This chapter should make that clear. They're just a little (or, well, a lot) confused about how to deal with that, not to mention their other feelings for each other. Everything will be cleared up in the next chapter.

Thank you so much to everybody who commented on the previous chapter, and as always, feedback would be very much appreciated. :)