HA HA HA I'M BACK! WHO MISSED ME?

April was productive, though not as much as I would have liked... but I'm back here now! (Dare I say back where I belong...?) I have certainly missed this story, and this will now be going back to regular updates of at least every Sunday, every Sunday and Thursday if I have a good week!

I was so happy to hear that you'd miss me, Falainakorna! Though this chapter is different characters so you'll have to wait even longer for the answer to your question... but I promise it will be next chapter (hopefully up on Thursday).

And wow, it's been a while, SoraROCK! Nice to see you again and hope you enjoy this second installment!

"Are you sure about this?" Kisame asked for what had to be the thousandth time since Itachi had proposed his plan. "I mean, are you sure this is going to work? What if something goes wrong? What if he hurts you? Oh, God, what if-?"

"Kisame!" Itachi stopped the flow of worried words from Kisame's mouth with a gentle hand. "We've gone over this before. It will work, I promise. All you have to do is trust me."

They were standing in the hallway in front of the door to the previous Boss's room in the dead of night, their voices hushed so as not to wake any of the other members of the gang who slept at the main house. The room had been sealed since his assassination, only opened long enough to dispose of the body and clean the bloodstains from the carpet before it had been shut again, this time permanently. It had been Itachi's idea for him to check out the room and the ball of restless energy residing there that night after everyone else had gone to sleep, an idea Kisame had readily - if not happily - agreed to.

Kisame pulled Itachi's hand from his mouth but didn't let go of it, instead gripping it tighter "But can you handle it?" He asked quietly. "What if it brings up bad memories for you? I remember what you told me, about that wraith and your brother. What if it reminds you of…?" He trailed off, obviously not wanting to finish the sentence.

"I'd like to think I'm stronger now," Itachi said quietly, shifting his hand in Kisame's grip so their fingers could lace together. "After all, I have something tangible to protect now. I won't be so easily overcome."

"But still-"

"Hush." Itachi pulled his hand free and smiled a reassuring smile at Kisame. "I'll be fine. I said he wasn't fully formed yet, didn't I? Right now, he's just a ball of angry emotions, barely conscious, if at all. That's why he needs to be dealt with now, before he grows into a real problem."

Kisame sighed, his clothing rustling as he reached for something. "When you say it like that, I have no way to say no."

"And that is one of the most useful qualities a leader could possess." Itachi reached up and blindly patted his cheek. "Take notes, my young padawan."

"Oh my God, I just realized that they made like four new Star Wars movies while you were in that hospital and you don't know anything about them! We should watch them togeth- oh, wait. Awkward. Sorry."

Itachi had to hold in a chuckle. "I'm sure I could figure something out. We'll look into it after I finish this, alright?"

"Fine, I guess."

It didn't sound fine, but Itachi was going to take what he could get. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath to hide the nervousness he didn't want Kisame to know he felt, he extended a hand.

"You brought the goods, right?"

"The goods." Kisame snorted. "You sound like we're on a drug run."

Itachi couldn't resist a jab, a sly grin creeping across his face as he felt a bag of something settle in his palm. "That something you have a lot of experience with, eh, Kisame?"

"Well, I did work for my father for over a decade before I ran away. I straight up admitted to you that I've murdered people in the past; is the fact that I also distributed drugs really going to phase you?"

"When you put it like that, I guess not. You're learning." He grinned cheekily at him. "And we might as well be distributing; I imagine rock salt looks enough like cocaine that we could slip it past a few drugged-up junkies, especially if it's in the same kind of plastic baggie you always see on those ads against taking drugs."

"It is, dammit." Kisame let out an exasperated sound. "I honestly don't know whether to be amused or frustrated by that."

"Amusement is almost always the best course of action." Itachi wrapped his grip more securely around the back of rock salt. "And the knife?"

"Here." Kisame grabbed Itachi's free hand and curled his fingers around the hilt of a small knife. "I had a hell of a time finding one, but I got it eventually. Tell me again why you specifically need a silver blade?"

"Silver's the only metal that can touch ghosts," Itachi replied automatically, the rational part of his mind supplying the answer while the rest of him finally started to panic. He'd made this plan in the hours before this moment, but the reality of what he was about to do hadn't really hit him until the familiar weight of a blade had touched his palm. The sensation brought back tendrils of memory from his past, memories he'd long hoped had been irrevocably buried. Suddenly, it seemed to him that he was standing in front of the abandoned warehouse again, the one he'd entered with a cocky arrogance, never expecting anything to go wrong, and his life had been turned on his head. Itachi knew the vision wasn't real, that he'd blinded himself years ago and couldn't see the warehouse even if it was there, but still the image persisted, haunting him with the ghosts of his past - both literal and metaphorical.

"Itachi?"

Itachi jumped at the sensation of Kisame's hand on his arm, jerking him out of his reverie. The vision of the warehouse faded, leaving him once again in a world composed entirely of seamless darkness. He took several deep, shaky breaths, not even trying to hide how nervous he was now.

"Itachi, you don't have to do this-" Kisame started, but Itachi straightened his shoulders, dislodging the hand on his arm in the process.

"Yes; yes, I do." Itachi's grip tightened on the knife in his palm. Even though he couldn't see it, he knew how it would look nestled inside his palm, his fingers curled delicately around the hilt, and how it would look as it sliced through the air. "You've done so much for me; the least I can do in return is the only thing I was ever really good at in my old life."

"Itachi-"

"Is the door unlocked?" Itachi interrupted, not letting Kisame finish whatever he was going to say.

For a second, Itachi thought that Kisame was going to brush his question aside and continue where Itachi had cut him, but after a long moment of silence he sighed and moved to the door, unlocking it with a click. "It is now."

"Thank you." Itachi moved to the door, laying a hand on the wooden doorframe and tracing downwards until he found the doorknob. "You remember your part of the plan, right? Keep watch, don't let anyone come in- and that includes you. No matter what you hear, don't come in. Got it?"

"I got it," Kisame growled. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, you don't have to like it. But know that this is something you can't help me with. I usually don't know the identity of a ghost I have to deal with, but because he's your father he might become more volatile in your presence. It's better for everyone if I do this alone."

"I know that!" Kisame cried quietly, his hands fisting the material of his pants with the sound of rustling fabric. "My head tells me everything you say is true, that it makes sense, but I still…! I can't…!"

"Kisame…" Itachi started to turn back to look at him, but the motion was stopped by Kisame throwing his arms around his torso, pulling him back against his chest in a strong embrace.

"Just promise me you'll be safe?"

After his previous experiences, Itachi knew a promise like that could never be truthfully made in a situation like this one, but he did it anyway. "I'll be safe. I'll come back safe, Kisame. I promise."

"Good." Kisame let go of him rather stiffly, as if under strict orders from the logical side of his brain that was barely keeping ahead of his emotions. "It's getting late. You should hurry before anyone finds us."

"This shouldn't take more than ten minutes. I'll be back before you know it, Kisame."

Kisame didn't respond, so Itachi gripped the doorknob tighter to hide his trembling hands, then slowly turned it. It opened with a creak, and he heard Kisame casting furtive glances down the hallway in case anyone had overheard the sound and decided to check it out. Taking one last deep breath of untainted air, Itachi stepped through the open door and closed it behind his back, submerging himself in the thick aura of a pre-formed draugr for the first time in a decade.

The air felt thick and cold, as if treacle filled the room instead of oxygen. When Itachi raised the knife up high, in front of his face, he felt the aura lessen somewhat, making the treacle-air easier to breathe, but not by much.

Working quickly, Itachi took the bag of rock salt and sprinkled a generous line of it across the doorjamb, then skirted the walls by touch and gave them their own garnish of white power. The familiar motions gave his trembling hands a sense of purpose, calming his hyperactive nerves to an almost manageable level. The heavy air drew away from the barrier as it was formed, making the air at the edges of the room easier to breathe, until he completed the circle and felt the energy roll into a ball of malevolent emotions in the center of the room.

Even though it was more cohesive now, the spectral energy still hadn't found its form yet, and Itachi allowed himself to frown as he considered what to do next. As the ghost hadn't actually manifested yet - which was a rare occurrence this long after death, but not impossible, especially if the deceased had been ill before his or her death, like he had gathered the former Boss to be - there was little he could do to convince it to fade, since it didn't even have a consciousness to reason with yet. That left him with few options: he could either leave it alone - which he wasn't willing to do - or he could end it now, killing it for a second time without giving it a chance to fade.

That option wasn't optimal either. But in this situation, it was his best course of action. With an ashen taste in his mouth, Itachi dropped the empty plastic bag which had formerly contained rock salt and raised the silver blade instead, pointing it at the ball of energy in the center of the room. It shrank back on itself as the silver drew closer, sending out tendrils of poisonous dark aura to combat the bite of the silver. Itachi gulped at the too-familiar-for-comfort sensation of those dark tendrils brushing up again his mind and forced his shaking body to take another step forward, closer to the point emanating that sick aura. His palms turned sweaty and his hands started to shake worse than before, forcing him to grasp the hilt of the silver blade in both hands lest he drop it.

The thing in the center of the room solidified and began to throb, beating like a dark heart intent on drawing Itachi in with its malevolent power. His throat went dry at the sensation; this was starting to feel much too familiar for his nerves to take. The solid ball thrummed with a deafeningly silent energy he'd felt only once before, the day he'd lost the best part of himself forever. Again, shards of images he knew he couldn't actually see flashed across his mind's eye, showing him fragments of his past in the form of dark boxes shrouded in cobwebs, blinding flashes of sickly green energy and several twisted expressions, some from pain and the most memorable one from a sadistic joy.

The knife slipped from Itachis grasp and clattered against the floor. The sound was like a gunshot in Itachi's ears, shattering the illusion of silence the dark energy had cast into a thousand tiny fragments that dug painfully at the inside of his skull. Unable to help himself, Itachi slapped his hands over his ears and sank to his knees, overcome by powerful presence of the ghost, even though it was still unformed.

Why was it affecting him this much? Even if it was the first ghost he'd dealt with since his incarceration - not counting the instance with Kisame's younger sister - it shouldn't affect him this much because it wasn't-

Oh.

But it was.

The ghost Itachi had unsuspectingly been sent to subdue had been a wraith, a sick bastard who'd been a doctor during his life, carrying out experimental surgeries in underground hospitals will no regard for the lives that ended under his scalpel- all in the name of forwarding science, the greater god. He'd continued his bloody research of the human body even after his own death, but this time with the intent of learning how to bring himself back to life. The haunting miasma that flowed through this room felt uncannily similar to that horrible aura Itachi would never be able to forget because it was the same.

How could he have forgotten that Kisame's father had been a mob boss in life? That if Kisame had ended lives on his orders, it was plausible that he himself had killed as well? Enough, certainly, to earn him the title of wraith if he didn't pass on after his death?

Itachi felt like he was going to be sick. He needed to get out of that room, and fast. Too many memories were crawling up from the depths of his mind where he'd buried them long ago, too many sick sensations sliding over his skin like poisonous ooze. He started to haul himself across the floor of the room toward the door with painful slowness, hating every fiber of wood that separated himself from the fresh air on the other side of the door.

It felt like a miracle when his fingertips finally drove into the line of salt he'd sprinkled around the perimeter of the room. He wasn't precisely at the door, but he felt along the wall until he found the edge of the doorjamb and hauled himself up by the doorknob.

Before he could turn it and escape the warehouse - room, not warehouse, room, he had to remind himself - a sudden voice oozed out from the ball of energy behind him, hoarse and gritty and formless, at once black and colorless.

"My… son…. My son…"

Itachi froze, every bone in his body telling him to flee but his paralyzing terror easily overpowering every protective instinct he possessed. He felt a tendril of dark energy flow experimentally across the room to taste his aura, and then touch him gently on the back. He had to fight the urge to scream and vomit at the same time at the sensation.

"You're not… him…" The disembodied voice continued, with a note of- was that disappointment. "You feel like him… but you're not my son…. My son…"

The tendril withdrew, and Itachi didn't need any more encouragement to flee the room, opening the door, stepping through it, and slamming it shut behind him one smooth movement that took less than a second. In the back of his terrified mind, he recognized that the door swung outwards and as such didn't disturb the line of salt he'd carefully sprinkled across the doorjamb, and he thanked whoever could be bothered to listen for the small miracle.

The air outside the room was clean and sweet, and Itachi gulped down mouthfuls of it, as thankful for its stale presence that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and cheap booze as he had been for that first lungful of fresh air he'd received after escaping the hospital. His knees buckled, and the only thing keeping him from face-planting onto the ground was his death grip on the doorknob- at least until his legs completely gave way and he fell forward, directly into Kisame's waiting arms.

"Itachi! What happened?"

Itachi's lower lip trembled; words threatened to spill up his throat from his stomach as his gorge rose, but he managed to keep them down. Then he realized that it wasn't words trying to make it past the barrier in his throat but actual gorge, and he barely managed to push Kisame out of the way before he started dry heaving. He managed to contain the first wave by clapping a hand over his mouth, but the force of the heave drove him to his knees on the floor, and he fell forward on his hands, feeling real vomit start to burn the back of his throat that he now had no way of holding back.

It exploded up from his stomach in a burning wash of acid, and Itachi was only vaguely aware as Kisame shoved something - he didn't know what - under his face to contain the vomit. The force of the heaves wracked his body from his head to his toes; just one more thing to add to the list of things he was helpless against. Even after the entire contents of his stomach had made their way out of his body via his mouth, he couldn't stop dry heaving, not even long enough to breathe. His head swam, his entire body tingling from lack of oxygen so much that he could barely feel the reassuring presence of Kisame's hand rubbing his back, telling him he was alright and that he needed to breathe or he would pass out. Honestly, unconsciousness seemed like a viable alternative to Itachi instead of the hellish nightmare he was currently facing.

Slowly, the shuddering spasms stopped, but Itachi couldn't shake off the trembling in his jello-limbs that took its place. The floor began to seduce him, the feel of the floorboards cool and solid against his palms, and Itachi laid his head down on the wonderfully cold surface, his cheek pressing against the rough grain of the wood. His whole body shook as if trying to shed the dark aura that had enveloped him like a second skin, or perhaps the memories that had surfaced during the encounter.

Why had he thought this was a good idea, again?

Vaguely, Itachi became aware of Kisame's presence, gently rubbing his back with long, smooth strokes. He struggled to push himself up with his quivering, jello-like arms, and Kisame quickly grabbed him under his armpits and hauled him into a sitting position, cradling him against his chest. The warmth of Kisame's body enveloped him, chasing away the chill darkness that had seeped into his core. Feeling a sense of security slowly steal over him, Itachi curled tighter into Kisame's chest, tightly fisting the material of his shirt without the intention of letting go.

Kisame calmly pet Itachi's long hair, which had become damp with the cold sweat that had enveloped his whole body, smoothing it back from his forehead before leaning down. His nose and mouth pressed into Itachi's ruffled hair, providing an anchor for Itachi's emotions to adhere themselves to instead of rampaging chaotically through his body.

"Can you tell me what happened in there?" He whispered against Itachi's hair.

"I… I…" Honestly, Itachi was surprised he could still speak. As it was, his voice was unusually rough. "Sorry, I don't think… I just… I can't… can't relive it again."

Kisame's embrace tightened around him. "Damnit, I knew I should have stopped you from doing it! I knew you were still recovering, and I-"

"'S'not your fault…" Itachi cut up off, tightening his grip on his shirt. "I made the decision…. You told me not to do it…. But, at least, it was worthwhile."

"Worth...while?" The torso Itachi was curled against tensed, and Kisame's head lifted from his hair. "You mean, you did it? You made him… leave?"

"Not… quite…" Itachi shifted, lifting his face so Kisame could get a better look at it. "He's still too unformed to convince peacefully, and I… I wasn't strong enough to deal with him another way. I did manage to put a barrier around the edges of the room, however, so the rest of the house should be safe from his effects for the time being- at least until I can recover enough to figure out what to do next."

The hand on his shoulder gripped harder, almost tight enough to hurt, but Itachi didn't mind. "Recover? Did he do this to you? That bastard- I'll never forgive him!"

"No!" Itachi corrected, struggling into a more vertical position before coughing and sinking back into Kisame's chest. "No, he didn't do anything to me. This is just… bad memories, is all."

"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have let you go-"

Itachi reached up and placed a soft hand over his mouth, cutting off the waterfall of words. "Don't. It was… my choice. And it needed to be done. You don't know what can happen if situations like these aren't dealt with right away. You haven't seen what can happen when… well, it was my choice. To protect you and everyone else here." His mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "I guess I really am my father's son after all. That was always his creed, you know. The protection of the ignorant masses. No matter how far I run from the Uchiha name, I guess I'll never really escape it."

Kisame pulled Itachi's hand away from his mouth, squeezing it tightly. "Itachi-"

"It's all right, Kisame. That particular battle is one you can't fight for me. It's all internal."

Kisame made as if to respond, but suddenly a familiar sound coming from down the hall caused Itachi to tense, covering Kisame's mouth again to stop him from speaking. "There's someone there," he hissed, just loud enough for the sounds to reach Kisame's ears but low enough that whoever was skulking around the bend in the hallway wouldn't be able to hear him.

Tensing again, Kisame carefully let go of Itachi, depositing him on the floor in a kneeling position and stealing that wonderful warmth away from him - no, he was not disappointed! - as he faced down the length of the hallway Itachi couldn't see.

"Where?" He murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Itachi's sensitive hearing to pick up.

"That way." Itachi gently inclined his head in the direction the sound had come from. "Between ten and fifteen feet. I can hear breathing."

"Wait here."

Without waiting for Itachi's response, Kisame start off deliberately down the hallway, his steady footsteps unnaturally loud against the floorboards. The sound of breathing abruptly increased in tempo, then froze, as if the person hiding had clapped a hand over their mouth to stop the sound from escaping. A frown played at the corners of Itachi's mouth; why did their breathing pattern sound so familiar? And was it slightly… feminine?

Kisame's loud footfalls echoes past the breather's hiding place, and Itachi heard them give a barely audible sigh as they thought the danger had passed, only for the sound to allow an alert Kisame to pinpoint their location and drag them from out into the open with a shocked cry that again struck Itachi's ears with a familiarity he couldn't quite place.

"Got you, you little sneak! Now there's nowhere for you to-"

"Stop!" Itachi suddenly cried as the identity of the person now in Kisame's grasp hit him. He struggled to get up from his kneeling position, only to have his jelly-like legs refuse to hold his weight and send him back down to the floor. "Stop it, Kisame! Don't hurt her! It's Miru!"

"Miru?!" Kisame instantly dropped his prisoner to the ground, allowing her to splutter as she recovered from his demonically strong grip. "What the hell are you doing here? And why are you wearing that stupid hood? I thought you were the assassin coming back for another shot…" He suddenly trailed off, then his voice grew colder than a frozen lake of salt water. "You aren't the assassin, are you?"

"N-no!" Miru quickly sputtered in a panic, scrabbling backwards until her back hit the wall with a quiet thump. "I'm not a rat, I swear! I just heard voices and came to investigate! I thought it was strange because no one's ever around here this time of night, and that made me suspicious so I decided to hide and listen instead of coming out and risk being attacked. That's the truth, I swear!"

"And how long were you there?"

"I don't know, a couple of minutes? I didn't hear much of your conversation, just the last couple of minutes, after…" She trailed off uncomfortably.

"Yes?" Kisame ground out through gritted teeth, and Itachi could almost hear Miru flinch away from his voice.

"After your… friend was done being sick," she finally managed, spitting out the words like they were poison.

"And you knew it was us?"

"Of course I knew it was you; I'm not fucking stupid!"

"Then why didn't you leave after you realized it was us and not some interlopers? Why did you stay to watch us?"

"Kisame…" Itachi tried to warn, but Kisame's anger got the better of him and he punched the wall directly over Miru's head, causing her to yelp in surprise and fear.

"Why were you spying on us?! Where is your respect for privacy? Do you have sense of decency?!"

"Kisame!"

This time, the word echoed like the crack of a whip down the hallway, causing both Kisame and his prey to freeze. His limbs still shook like unformed jello, but this time Itachi managed to make it to his feet with the help of the wall next to him, and when he was fully upright he sent what would have been a glare if he'd had eyes at the pair.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Kisame? Are you trying to make enemies of your most tentative allies this early? You already have too many problems to deal with without adding this into the mix! Back away from her this instant and apologize!"

Itachi felt the weight of two shocked gazes on his shoulders amid the silence that followed his outburst, almost causing his knees to buckle and send him back down to the floor, but he only gritted his teeth and held on to his verticality all the more.

"I said now, Kisame!"

Whether it was due to surprise at the bite in his tone or actual obedience, Itachi didn't know, but within a few seconds he heard Kisame shuffle backwards, away from the woman still sitting in the floor, too shocked to move by Itachi's outburst.

"Sorry," he muttered. "That was uncalled for. You were just doing what you thought was right."

"But if it's all the same," Itachi added, taking a few shaky steps toward the pair, "I, for one, would like to hear the answer to his question, Miru. It was asked in the wrong way, but it is important to know why the people around you do the things they do, especially for someone in Kisame's position."

After a few more seconds of stunned silence, Miru drew in on herself and snapped, "Because I don't trust you, obviously! Either of you!"

"You don't trust us?" Kisame echoed in surprise, and Miru gritted her teeth in obvious, audible anger.

"Of course I don't trust you! You abandoned this group years ago, Kisame- do you think we don't remember that? I may have been young at the time - younger than you were, at least - but I remember it as clear as the day it happened, as do the others! You abandoned us, Kisame, abandoned the people here without a backward glance!"

"My father-" Kisame started with a growl, but Miru cut him off again.

"Was convinced that you were coming back! He always said you just needed a little more time, that you would come back to us when you were ready! He believed it so hard, he never took your name off his will as the heir to the gang, even on his deathbed! You don't know how long we argued after he died, deciding whether we should follow his wishes or say the hell with you and get a Boss who would actually care about us!"

Itachi pulled a harsh breath in through his nose; he'd suspected something like this might occur eventually, but not this soon and with one of the more volatile members, like Raiga, not the seemingly level-headed Miru. It just went to show how truly upset she was.

"And when we finally find you, look what we got!" She continued, her voice rising in volume and pitch as her anger also started to boil over. "A 'condition' to your return! The most useless, pathetic lump of flesh to ever enter this house, a place held sacred by our group! This is our base, our home, and the two of you are living in it, wearing our colors, acting like you belong when all you are is a pair of outsiders who fell our way through dumb luck and blind privilege!"

The words echoed in the stillness of the hallway after she finished speaking, her chest heaving with the exertion of emotion. Forcing his shaky legs to move, Itachi walked several steps forward to stand next to Kisame.

"Thank you for sharing your opinion," he said blandly, inclining his head downwards when Kisame appeared to be too frozen to speak. "I appreciate that you told us your true feelings on this matter."

"And that's another thing!" Miru exploded again, this time at Itachi. "Where do you come off saying things like that? What gives you the right to speak for him? And where do you come from, anyway? We broke you out of a god-damn hospital for Kisame! You have nothing, no status, no skills- hell, you're crippled! Disabled! Completely useless! How would you be a benefit to us? What was Kisame thinking when he brought you here? How can we trust a person so self-centered, they don't even realize when they're holding everyone around them back?"

Instantly, Kisame broke from his frozen shock and jumped to Itachi's defense. "You can't-!" He started, but Itachi cut him off with a raised hand.

"'Holding everyone around them back'?" He repeated, letting the words roll around his mouth before spitting them out as if they were poisoned blades. "Is that how you view me? Rendered utterly useless by the loss of my sight? Is that all I am?"

"How can you be any more?"

"How can I not!?" Itachi sank down on his hanches, bringing his face down to the same level as Miru's. "Perhaps you're right not to trust me. After all, I don't give two shits about your second-rate gang here in the slums." Miru gave a noise of outrage at this, but Itachi ignored it and talked over brief protest. "I owe you no allegiance, and you've certainly already made it clear that you don't want me. The only reason I'm here is because of the only man I will ever pledge myself to - body, mind and soul - and that man is Kisame."

Itachi felt Kisame stiffen behind him, and couldn't help the small smile that lifted up the corners of his mouth. "I'm here because he wants to be here," he continued, feeling Kisame touch him gently on the head. "And I will support him in every way I can, because he has command of my respect and loyalty. So you're right not to trust me; I'd just as soon raze this place to the ground as help you, depending on what he asks of me. But if I were you, I would put my trust in Kisame."

"And why is that?" Miru spit back, but her words were starting to lack less bite.

"Because of me," Itachi said simply.

"Because of you? What the fuck kind of reason is that?"

Leaning back on his haunches, Itachi bowed his head. "Because of the place I came from. You didn't break me out of a hospital; you broke me out of a psychiatric ward on the top floor of a hospital where I'd existed in a living hell for the past decade. A place of constant monitoring: twenty-four hour surveillance, whether from a real human or a camera; a heart rate monitor that alerted someone to sedate me if my heart rate got too high- and by 'too high', I mean anything above my resting heart rate of sleeping. I spent over four years of my life in a partial coma on a cocktail of drugs that left my body ravaged and my mind too catatonic to care. And even when I recovered enough that I didn't need them, that I should have gone home to recover in better environment, I couldn't because my father, unable to bare the shame of having a son like me, faked my death the moment I was admitted to the hospital. So, I was forced to remain in a padded prison cell for years, knowing an unassisted escape was impossible because I'd helped write the goddamned rulebook for ward security and praying that someone would slip up and bring me something more than a plastic spoon so I could finally end my miserable existence before I had to suffer any more humiliation than I already had."

Kisame's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Itachi…"

"Do you understand now?" Itachi asked, hearing Miru's breathing catch at the question. "Kisame brought me away from there, Kisame saved me from that. And if he has enough compassion to break an undeserving lunatic out of his cage and give him a new life, I'd say he has the fortitude to drag your miserable group out of the mud and give it the run it deserves."

Not waiting for Miru to respond, Itachi pushed himself back to his feet, wobbling a little as the motion proved to be too much for his already overworked equilibrium sensors. He staggered, but Kisame caught him before he could fall again. "That was an impressive speech you gave there," he murmured just loud enough for Itachi to hear, and with a snort the blind man responded in kind.

"Probably too much, but she was irritating me."

Aftering ensuring Itachi was steady on his feet - or at least, that he wasn't going to faceplant if he let go of him - Kisame squatted down in front of Miru and offered her a hand. "I really am sorry for yelling at you earlier. You took me by surprise, and I- well, I overreacted. Here, let me help you up."

Several seconds ticked by in silence as Miru simply stared at the proffered hand, and Itachi thought that perhaps she would shake it off and stand under her own power, then a gentle rustle of cloth told him she had grasped his hand, and they stood together. Kisame took a step back when she had reached her feet, once again resting his hand on the small of Itachi's back for support, but whether he did it unconsciously or purposefully, Itachi couldn't tell. The woman in front of them regarded them silently for a moment before shaking her head with a light rustle of hair.

"Apology accepted."

The words were stilted, but heartfelt, from what Itachi could tell. Beside him, he felt the air move as Kisame inclined his head briefly.

"Thank you."

A few more moments of stilted silence enveloped them in ever-heightening tension until Miru broke it again. The words shattered the tense quiet around them, but somehow made the air seem colder at the same time.

"I should be going. To let you finish your private business in… private."

With that, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, but Kisame called out one last time to stop her.

"Miru?"

"What?" She almost snapped, turning back with an irritated air.

After a brief hesitation, Itachi felt Kisame straighten up taller next to him and square his shoulder. "I want to thank you for your honesty tonight. I understand that you and the others have little trust for me, and I respect that. However, I hope in the future that I can change your minds with my actions, and prove to you that I am worthy of your trust."

"Don't expect it to happen quickly." Miru's voice was harsh, but then her tone softened. "But we're all waiting for that day, as well."

Then she was gone, her footsteps tapping out a rough tempo against the floorboards as she rounded a bend in the hallway and disappeared.

As soon as she was out of sight, Kisame sagged almost comically against Itachi, who stumbled under his weight, almost sending both of them back down to the floor again.

"Kisame! Are you trying to kill me?!"

"Sorry," Kisame sighed as he stood up straight again, pulling Itachi back against his chest for support. "That was just… I can't even describe it. I had no idea they felt that way."

"Really?" Itachi asked in surprise. "I thought it was obvious. The only reason I didn't mention it already was because I thought you already knew."

"Thought I already knew-! Of course I didn't know! Itachi, how did you figure it out?"

"Subtle inflections of praise when speaking about the old Boss, even the time he spent being useless, and slight hostility when speaking about or to you. Really, it was so thick in their voices I thought you would have seen it on their faces without me needing to mention it."

Heaving a sigh, Kisame dragged a hand through his hair in an overly pained genture. "Apparently they're better at masking their true emotions in their faces than they are at voice acting. I'm glad I've got you keeping tabs on the other end for me so we can cover both sides." His voice suddenly turned a little playful. "So, any other little tidbits you picked up from listening to them talk you haven't told me yet, whether or not you think I already know?"

"No, other than the fact that I'm pretty sure Raiga and Miru either used to have a 'thing' or are currently in the middle of said 'thing', but I'm sure even you would have picked that up by how they subconsciously gravitate to each other-"

"Wait, what? Miru and Raiga? Like, together together have a thing? Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"...I stand corrected."

Both let out a gentle laugh at Itachi's dry comment, and Itachi leaned his head against Kisame's strong chest. He was so tired that he doubted he could even stand on his own anymore, even if it was required of him. With a sigh, he let his hand slide down Kisame's shirtfront until it dangled listlessly at his side.

"This was either a disastrous setback or a miracle," he said, referring to the altercation with Miru.

"Which one are you leaning more towards?"

"Hmm…" Itachi gave it a moment's thought. "I'd say closer to miracle right now, but that could always change without notice. It looks like you still have your work cut out for you, Kisame."

"Well, with you by my side, how can I fail?"

A secret smile stole across Itachi's face. "How indeed?"