RED

Chapter 19: Goals

Morning comes. It is tight fisted and does not allow for exceptions. Cold, slanderous rain continues to fall.

Between them, Konan and Nagato drag Sasuke out to the four o' clock roll call. He is not heavy but is difficult to manoeuvre. His body is hot with unhealthy sweat and blood continues to roll down his leg.

But he is determined.

'I can't die here,' he mumbles in the small hours. 'Not while my brother is... not while there's still a chance...'

Konan knows he is not likely to survive the next few days.

She and Nagato – pale, silent, eyes haunted – stumble along with Sasuke lynched onto their shoulders. It's hardly like they have the energy for this themselves. They're all undernourished. They're all freezing cold. They're all not likely to survive.

But the determination she had seen in his eyes when the regular call of the Fang on duty had roused them from their bunks had reminded her too much of an absent face to refuse him. She cannot bring herself to wholly picture that face. She concentrates on the moment, the dribbling, cherry details, and the rain that whips them into near submission.

She cannot allow herself to stumble. Not yet.

Not now.

They arrive at their usual spot in line. Konan knows she must leave shortly; her cloak is currently hiding her identity from the world but if the guards discover her sex she will be instantly executed. Females are not permitted here. She needs to attend her own role call.

'Can you manage from here?' she mutters quickly to Nagato. His eyes don't seem quite in the right place. To her relief he nods mutely.

'Good. I will find you later for an update. If you can, find something to clean his wound. Don't use the water here.'

'Be safe, Konan.' His voice is toneless and exhausted. 'You must be safe.'

She listens to what he isn't saying. There is so much. She can't possibly allow herself to sink into it. There will be time.

'I know. The same applies to you. Both of you.'

She tries to address Sasuke. His eyes watch the ground, and his head seems too heavy for him to support. She gently slips from under the arm she is supporting and feels Nagato pick up the slack.

'Listen to me,' she whispers, her voice efficient and steady. 'I have to go now. We're at roll call. My plan today is to have a sniff around and see if I can pick up any of the lost supplies from last night. I will be coming back to check on you later. Are you going to be here to see me?'

He doesn't answer. Konan can smell the blood on him. The rain is mingling with it, making it stink.

'Oy!' she hisses, grabbing his face with a dirty hand. The steadiness is leaking. 'You're going to have to do better than that! Will you be here to see me when I come back, Sasuke?'

The Fang guard is walking to take his place at the front of roll call. His boots crunch the sodden ground. Hundreds of wet, shivering bodies surround them and Konan knows she is running out of time. She must leave.

She drops her hand and glances worriedly at Nagato; she does not want to leave him to be discovered. He is watching Sasuke intently, chewing his bottom lip.

'How can we have hoped to get him through this?' she thinks dismally. 'He's too ill. The Fang will see him a mile off. And when they see him, they'll see us.'

Nagato's expression switches to one of mild surprise as Sasuke's weight shifts. 'Wait... wha-'

And suddenly, Sasuke is standing on his own. His posture is dreadful and it is clear to Konan that the small act of balancing without Nagato's support is sapping him of energy. She can see every vein in his clenched fists as he pulls himself vaguely upright. His right leg is merely resting upon the ground to offer some sort of balance, and his left shakes with the strain.

'I promise.' The gruff rawness in his voice causes Konan's hands to fly to her face. He sounds as though he is sobbing. Each breath seems a ragged struggle. 'I promise I will be here later. I promise.'

There are tears in her eyes and she casts one last glance at Nagato. He is fighting the contortion of emotion on his face. The muscles twitch.

The desperate promise. It sounds so much like Yahiko.

Sasuke shifts himself further away from Nagato, attempting to dispel any suggestion that he may be using him for support. The Fang guard has taken his place before the mottled crowd. As he begins to call names across the chilled rain of the morning, Konan slips away toward her own section of the camp, clinging desperately to the hope that her two remaining boys will still be alive at the end of the day and trying viciously to snuff Yahiko's smiling face from her mind.

14th November 043.

Neji was arrested yesterday. I'm not sure what for. The news has flown around town that he was caught with pro-RED fliers in his backpack. They are clamping down hard on us. It's not hard to see why.

The war is going badly. More and more soldiers are returning with severe injuries from the front. There is a lock-down on the obituaries section in the press but word travels fast, and the subject of every conversation seems to be that another son or lover has died in battle. That, or it's the news of another arrest. Last week I heard a fellow proselytising that what has happened was wrong – that the war is futile, that the Reds are needlessly persecuted – I just hurried by on my way to work, of course. I've learned never to show my true face to the outside world. But on my way back home that night I looked for him and found only a patch of browning red on the ground where he had stood. I see enough of that particular shade to know exactly what that patch was.

As bad as all of this is – the gloomy talk, the news of deaths, the horrific injuries, the tough crackdown – it brings me hope. A secret, silent sort of hope that belongs to just me.

The war will be over soon.

We can't keep this up. Konoha is huge but our resources are not infinite. There are only so many people we can throw at Orochimaru's ideals before we simply run out of man power. There are only so many injuries one country can take before it starts to fall apart internally.

When it does, I will be ready. I know the time will come when I will take off my mask and be my real, true self again. I refuse to sit back and let the world shape itself around me again. The last time that happened, everything fell apart. I will not watch the backs of those who protect me disappear into the distance. I will work and work for this country, just like I do now – I work to fix the broken men who stagger back to us, questioning everything they've been taught and wondering how to get their lives back again. But I will work even harder when the war is over – I will work to promote equality and citizenship for all. I will work to make Konoha a better place, where people can live without fear of judgement or aggression.

Of course, I'm probably being idealistic. It's impossible for one girl to change to world in the way I'm hoping. But for now, I can move confidently toward a better future with each wound I treat and with each life I save.

In the meantime, life at home has changed quite a lot. I like Yamato. When he first arrived he was very quiet – Father explained to me that he has lost everything and was still in shock – but he has come out of himself and is a very pleasant man. I think he has realised that there is nobody who has lost nobody – an inevitable consequence of this war. So he is glad of our company and is fairly cheerful most of the time. While Father works (the bookshop has picked up trade since he has returned!), Yamato helps with deliveries or makes himself as useful as possible around the house. Mother is snappy and rude to him – which is probably a sign that she likes him, knowing that woman. He seems to be content with his lot, and he quite often visits me in the basement – usually when I'm writing in my diary (I daren't keep it above ground in the main house) to ask how my day has been.

Father seems his old self. Cheerful and easy going, with a knack for handling Mother in the worst of moods and the ability to make me smile no matter the horrors I have seen throughout the day. He is so good to me; he tells me every day how proud he is of what I have achieved and how well my career is moving along. I think part of his praise stems from a genuine pride in the way he has raised me. But I think part of it is fuelled by guilt. About what used to be in the basement. I think he's trying to reassure himself that some good things have come from his life to distract him from what he views as failure on his part. It's not, of course – I know Father did everything he could – but I get the feeling he will always treat that section of our lives as a catastrophe brought about by his own actions. By what he 'didn't do'.

He is wrong. It was brought about by the world out there. The world fighting and tearing itself apart. The world that throws weeping, wounded men at me and tells me to fix them up. The world that has arrested Neji Hyuga without a whisper of opposition.

It can't last. It won't last.

As for Neji – well, I'm not sure what will happen to him. Hinata is distant and confused in work. I tried to speak to her this morning but she was vague and her eyes seemed to be looking somewhere else. She is in shock, I suppose. There are some things you don't expect anyone to be a part of – and some things you never expect them to get caught doing. She knows that as well as anyone. And the news, I imagine, is a little too close for comfort.

She updates me on Naruto and his escapades but never goes into too much detail. It's not safe. A failed job a few nights ago has put them underground and even though Hinata won't tell me the details I know Naruto is heart-broken over something. She skirts around it all like she's hiding the facts – like I'll be in danger if I know the truth. She is probably right. But I hope Naruto gets back out of his slump soon. If I'm working hard on moving forward and changing this world, then I should hope that he is too. We used to gaze into the river together and imagine our ideal world, and I won't let anything stop me from diving right in when the time comes.

I hope he will be ready too.

Nagato allowed himself the tiniest sigh of relief as roll call passed without incident of note. He had been waiting for some hidden Fang guard to step forward and positively identify him as one of the miscreants from the night before. He was sure they got a good look at him. At all of them.

But nothing was said. No mention of Yahiko, or the raid, or anything. A tiny, paranoid voice in the back of his mind (which all of a sudden seemed closer to the front) whispered that they were just biding their time – that they would sneak out of the shadows and shoot him when the moment suited them – but he knew he couldn't give in to the seductive, paranoid twists of his own fear when he had a patient to take care of.

Sasuke managed to stay standing throughout the whole of roll call. It was blessedly quick – only two hours, today. Perhaps the Fang had enough of standing in the rain watching them shiver. But the two hours had dragged. And Nagato had fully expected Sasuke to topple over at any moment. He didn't want to see another person shot. He didn't want to see another friend murdered before him.

Thankfully (miraculously) Sasuke had stayed upright. There had been a few moments of dangerous-looking sway, but Sasuke had muttered something quietly to himself and it seemed to balance him for a little while longer. He'd even managed a solid sounding 'Here!' when his name was called. Unless the Fang could see the blood slowly collecting at his feet they wouldn't know that anything was wrong.

After the Fang had left and the crowd started to disperse, Nagato caught sight of Sasuke buckling and jumped to his aid immediately.

'I'll get you back to the barracks,' he said quietly, pulling Sasuke's arm around his shoulder and walking slowly. 'I'll have to leave briefly to get breakfast, but I'll bring you something back. You have to eat. Then you can rest.'

'No rest.' Sasuke's voice was forced out between his teeth. His limp was obvious. 'We have to go on as normal. You and I are going... to work.'

'Impossible!' Nagato found himself speaking with more conviction than he was used to. 'You won't last an hour!'

'I don't have a choice!' Sasuke hissed back at him. Nagato took him in. Hair slicked to his scalp with heavy rain, skin flushed and sweaty, but eyes, red and dangerous, refusing to leave his own. 'I won't ruin what we have worked for. Besides, with the hot fire and tools, we can close up this damned hole in my leg and carry on like we always have.'

'You've got to be joking,' Nagato breathed. 'I'm not a doctor. I can't do something like tha-'

'If you can't then I will!'

They stumbled over a small patch of slightly uneven ground and Sasuke broke off their conversation with an agonised cry as the floor jolted against his injured leg. Nagato stopped instantly and waited for Sasuke, feeling the weight of his friend seem to increase. For a moment he thought Sasuke was going to be sick; he retched and dragged his breath in and out in a controlled effort to master the pain. After a long, gritty minute he seemed to recover himself.

'We mustn't,' he half whispered, closing his eyes momentarily, 'just roll over and die. We can't. We have things to achieve. Goals. I know what mine are. What are yours, Nagato?'

Nagato wanted to hide behind his thick ginger hair. He hated thinking about his goals, and his desires, and his dreams in this place because they seemed to get further and further away. His hand stretched out to each dream as though a star in the sky, but no matter how far he stretched, they were always out of reach.

One shone brightest to him now. There had been two, together, but overnight one of them had imploded in the wake of a frantic shot in the dark, leaving a black patch in the sky and one lonely star throbbing away across the ink of the universe.

'Konan,' he said firmly. 'I want to protect her. When we get out of here, I want to live with her. And look after her. Her happiness has always been my goal.'

He knew Sasuke had expected an answer like that. Konan's affection for Yahiko had always been blatant, but Nagato had continued to love Konan despite knowing she would never return the feelings. And he knew Sasuke had noticed. For some reason, it had never really bothered him. In the midst of the horror of the camp, and the putrid smell of death all around them, the secrecy of private crushes or lonely hearts seemed to matter little. So it didn't feel too unsettling to reveal himself to his patient.

'Well then,' said Sasuke, straightening himself back up. 'Who am I to let this little wound get in the way of you reaching your goal? You can't run the smithy without me. If you can help me get back on my feet fast, I will help us keep the smithy going. It keeps us alive. The longer we're alive, the more chance we've got of getting out. Agreed?'

Nagato could hardly argue. 'I know. You're right. But you're... dying. I can't fight biology.'

He hadn't expected Sasuke to half laugh and issue a derisory snort. 'Dying? Come off it. I've had worse injuries from working in the smithy at home. This is just a scratch.'

'He's kidding himself,' Nagato realised sadly. 'He's trying to come to terms with the fact that this wound will probably kill him by... making light of it!'

'Sasuke...'

'Didn't you say something about breakfast?' Sasuke muttered as they reached the barracks. They stepped inside, out of the rain. Emptiness faced them; the rest of the prisoners would be queuing in the food house, scrapping over any spare slop of food and returning with stale pieces of bread or bowls of thin turnip soup. 'Hurry, before everything gets taken. I can't do this on an empty stomach. If you don't get me something to eat I'll end up eating you and that's hardly a prospect I relish. You're all bones.'

Nagato shook his head as he lowered Sasuke onto the hard, blood-stained cot he called his own. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Sasuke had never been the type for cracking jokes. He was stoic and might occasionally chip in with the odd dry remark but humour was the forte of Yahi—

'Oh.'

'I'll get what I can,' Nagato offered with a grateful smile. 'Rest. After we've eaten we can go to the smithy and try to fix you.'

'He's not kidding himself at all.' He slipped Sasuke's arm from around his shoulder and the man instantly lay back on the bed, letting his eyes close.

'He's kidding me.'

A little later Sasuke found himself on the floor of the make-shift smithy. The Fang they worked for used to check in on them every day, when they'd first started, but that was months ago and due to the quality of their work he'd taken to spending his mornings selling off their wares across the camp.

Sasuke knew they had some time.

He told himself he'd got past the worst of it. Standing in the rain had nearly killed him, he was sure. He'd never known rain to feel so heavy; logically he knew it was just water but each drop felt like metal slamming into his skin. He wasn't really sure he'd even been conscious for the whole time. The end had been signalled by Nagato grabbing him roughly and keeping him upright.

He knew he had to seal the wound. It was creeping down his leg like a liquid spider and every morsel of blood he lost brought him closer to closing his eyes and never opening them again. Besides. Wasn't his blood supposed to have special healing powers? Isn't that what the text books taught? He needed to retain as much of it as possible. Special healing. A miracle. He knew he needed something like that to survive the next twenty-four hours.

Bluffing to Nagato had been surprisingly easy, despite his lack of energy and the funny black haze encroaching on his vision. The shy, jumpy man was frightened and lacked his counterpart to dissolve the fear into smiles. Sasuke refused to allow himself to give into his own worries and pains when Nagato was inches away from breaking down out of grief for his dear friend. He needed him sensible and sane to get through the sealing. He knew his own strength would probably give out in the face of what must be done.

After settling into the warmth of the smithy and allowing it to comfort his bones briefly, Sasuke pulled himself to the blazing fire and started to heat some tools. Nagato was watching him carefully.

'You're sure about this?'

'No other options,' replied Sasuke brightly, gazing into the flames as they tenderly licked the black instruments. 'I can't just keep losing blood. I really will die that way.'

He knew his brightness was probably a result of delirium. He didn't care. It was keeping Nagato relatively calm and pliant. The tip of the small set of tongs in his hand suddenly glowed white, and he took as deep a breath as his shaking body would allow him.

'Okay, Nagato. Are you ready?'

For some reason, the smithy around him was looking more and more like the one he remembered at home. He could distinctly see his brother hammering at what looked like a glowering sword, sweat dripping from his brow and sheening across the flushed skin of his arms.

'You need to get the bullet out with these. Try and be quick. They're sterile. Then use the poker to seal the wound. Burn it until there's no more blood coming out. Don't let it blister too much if you can help it.'

The calmness of his own voice was eerie. He could see himself, tugging at the trouser leg of the busy, sweating Itachi.

'Itachi! Itachi!'

He left the tip of the tongs and poker in the grate of the fire and pulled off his flimsy trousers. Nakedness didn't matter here.

His brother stops. 'Sasuke, you shouldn't come near me when I'm beating. It's dangerous.' He slips his tool into a wrought iron holster and bends down to meet his gaze.

'Don't stop until it's done. Alright?'

He was sure Nagato nodded. He could hear his footsteps as he stretched out the injured leg. The bullet had entered at the inside back of his right thigh and had failed to exit. There was a patch of skin somewhere in the middle at the front of his thigh which suggested the location of the bullet within the muscle. The skin at the front was a mess of purple and blue bruises. The tiny, almost insignificant wound at the back choked out black blood in a steady dribble.

'I cut my finger!' the tiny Sasuke wails. He cannot be more than six years old. He holds out the affronted index finger, demonstrated what looks like a thick burn on the pad. 'It hurts!'

'I'm sorry, Sasuke.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, Sasuke.' His brother's voice is always so kind and gentle. 'I didn't realise.'

Stretched cloth was thrust into his mouth. He bit down on it readily. The sound of the metal leaving the grate tiptoed over his ears.

'That's not a cut. That's a burn.' Even the mild discomfort of his sore finger cannot prevent Sasuke from listening carefully to his brother. He loves to learn from him. 'Only a little one, but a burn nonetheless.'

'What's the difference?' Sasuke asks, squinting at the rough, dark skin on his finger.

The tongs were close. He could feel the heat on his skin.

'A cut bleeds, because the skin has been torn apart. A cut hurts from inside. But a burn does not bleed. It lives on the top of your skin, and hurts from the top inwards.'

He could hear his breath, quick and terrified, dragging in and out of his nose. He bit down harder.

The tongs connected.

'How do you fix a burn?'

The world went white.

'Easy!' His brother smiles. 'You take the burnt area...' He grasps Sasuke's finger gently. 'And you lift it like this...' He lifts it, slowly. Sasuke watches in wonder.

'Hold still, Sasuke! I can't quite... I need to go a little... deeper in...'

He'd tried his best not to cry out, but couldn't stop himself. He could hear his own screams, heavy and sobbing, as they smashed into the cloth in his mouth.

'And then... the last step...'

Sasuke's eyes are wide.

'Got it! Just let me seal it... hold on...'

The noise of metal scraped on the grate. A small pause, and then white again.

'The last step... is this.'

Sasuke finds his finger pressed to his brother's lips. Those older, bright red eyes are sparkling at him.

He could smell it. His screams were ragged and he choked on the rag in his mouth again and again.

'A kiss from someone who wants you to get better!' His brother is smiling. Sasuke's tiny hand curls up. The pain is still there.

'Just ... nearly...Don't you disappear on me now, Sasuke! Remember your promise!'

'Of course, the pain won't just instantly stop.' His brother's teeth flash white as he grins and speaks at the same time. 'But I've given you the 'Big Brother Remedy' – it's guaranteed to fix any wound, with time. You do believe me, don't you?'

The white switched to a heavy black, which seemed to creep all over his body and press into him. The sound of his screams was making him nauseous. He was sure that if he curled up in the blackness, he'd feel better.

'NO! Remember your promise to Konan! She'll be back later!'

His promise. He'd promised to be there. And he knew, somewhere in the still focusing section of his brain, that he couldn't be in two places at once. Not the black place and the smithy.

'It's done!'

The metal clinked against the floor. The rag was removed from his mouth and his outcries doubled in volume. A pair of shaking arms wrapped around him and pulled him in. Slowly, he began to see the room around himself again.

The floor was littered with spats of blood, as though flicked from a thick paintbrush. A dirty black bullet lay abandoned, still claiming small chunks of himself in its escape. The smell of burned meat filled the whole room. The tongs and poker lay redundant.

Filled with sickness, Sasuke glanced up at the man cradling him. Nagato was crying, and trembling heavily.

'Please don't ever ask me to do anything like that again...'

His own eyes were wet and stung. He glanced shakily down at his leg, turning the quivering limb to allow himself to see. The back of his thigh was sealed. The skin was mottled red and black.

'Of course I believe you, brother!' Sasuke's response is light. The wound still hurts but the sting seems less aggressive. 'You've been doing this for longer than me. But...'

'I won't. I couldn't.' He managed to speak. He could taste sick in the back of his mouth.

'I need to wrap it, but at least you won't bleed to death now.'

'Thank you, Nagato.'

'What happens if you get hurt? You don't have a big brother to give you the 'Big Brother Remedy'!'

Itachi smiles.

Hinata comes home from work tired. Her muscles ache from being tensed up in surgery all day. In the morning she assisted on a small amputation procedure (only three fingers to remove) but the afternoon had been taken up by attempting to repair a punctured lung and the surgery had been a failure. Her patient had died on the operating table. It seems strange that months ago Hinata would have come home and wept about this, but now it seems a regularity and she can hardly bring herself to feel bad.

But she still does.

She steps through the front door of the house she still shares with Hanabi and some other relatives to find her sister facing her in the hallway.

'There's a man here to see you,' she says in a steady voice. Hinata can instantly see her sister is nervous. She nods reassuringly, trying not to let her head race to the worst conclusions.

'He's in the living room.'

Summoning the little strength left in her muscles, Hinata forces a strict dignity into her steps. If she is going to be arrested, she will be arrested in a noble manner. They got her cousin Neji early yesterday. She has been waiting for them to arrive for her.

She pushes the heavy oak living room door open and steps in with her head held high.

The mass of golden blond hair slumped upon her couch is not what she was expected.

'Ca-Can I help you?' she asks, keeping up appearances for her sister's sake. She pushes the door shut, and as soon as it clicks she drops the pretense.

'Naruto!' she whispers. 'This isn-isn't like you! Wh—what are you doing here?'

He looks up at her from his seat on the velvet upholstered couch. Maroon. Deliciously soft. He seems to have sunk into it.

'I received a letter today.'

Hinata forces herself to inhale and exhale. Slowly. Deeply. In through her nose. Out through her parted, full lips.

'What d-does it say?'

He hands it to her. His tanned face looks ashen. The letter is crumpled and one end is torn. She unfolds it with trembling hands.

The top line is all she needs to see.

'ORDER OF CONSCRIPTION.'

The dignified facade is forgotten and Hinata sinks to her knees, unable to even read further. She buries her face into the letter as though it can offer some sort of perverse form of comfort and tears instantly sully the ink.

'Me and Shikamaru,' Naruto says flatly. 'And a couple of other members of FOX, actually.'

Her heart is breaking. Their work. Their good, life saving work.

Torn to shreds with a single letter.

'They must have found us out.'

'But h-h-how?' she breathes. 'Nobody would have thrown us in!'

Naruto sighs. 'Who knows? One thing is for certain, though.'

He slips from the couch and joins her on the softly carpeted floor of her living room. The tears are gathering at her chin, dripping from the point.

His breath is tempered with the effort to keep himself in check. Hinata meets his gaze fearfully, not willing to hear what she knows he must say.

'FOX is finished.'

Night falls as swiftly as the rain across the camp. The workers return to their barracks exhausted. Two in particular know they have a rough night ahead.

Nagato lowers Sasuke onto the stiff cot for the second time that day. His limp is less pronounced but his walk stiffer and ungainly. Nagato has managed to wrap the wound in a clean-ish cotton rag but they both know it won't stay clean for long. Sasuke, weariness etched into his face, leans back onto the cot and closes his eyes.

Nagato waits for a moment, watching to make sure Sasuke drifts off into a blank sleep. They have endured the afternoon as well as possible, even managing to produce some basic pots and pans for the Fang guard to sell the next day. Fortunately the guard had only visited late in the day, and when asked about the funny smell in the back room of the office, Sasuke quickly covered with some rubbish about rotten wood on the hearth.

Once Sasuke's breathing seems as even as it is going to get, Nagato slips out. He and Konan have a number of meeting places and he knows that if he waits long enough in one of them, she will appear. In the wet dusk, he darts in and out of the corridors of the barracks, leading him eventually to a small outhouse about fifty metres from the barrier to the women's camp. He has chosen this one for a reason today. Because of the smell of the outhouse, this was Yahiko's least favourite meeting spot. It will be the easiest for them to face.

Sure enough, after twenty minutes or so, Konan appears. She is swept in her thick cloak and darts over to Nagato with a grace she must have been born with. She embraces him; he returns it gladly.

'I'm happy to see you,' she mumbles.

'But!' she pulls away sharply, as though remembering herself. 'You are a dreadful doctor, Nagato!'

He frowns, ginger fronds of hair slipping across his wrinkled forehead. 'What do you mean? I've done well today! Sasuke made me burn his wound shut! You know what he's like – a hard man to refuse!'

Konan stares at him, her face stilled and trapped in a confused expression.

'Wait. You sealed his wound. When?'

'I suppose about eleven this morning. We were in the smithy all afternoon. I wrapped it and we actually got so-'

'But...'

She isn't listening to him. Her thoughts are louder than his words. He is not surprised.

'I saw him this afternoon on construction detail! He looked in dreadful shape! I saw him and instantly made up my mind to yell at you when I saw you...'

Nagato blinks. 'You can't have seen Sasuke. He has been with me all afternoon. He certainly wouldn't have been up for construction detail. He can hardly walk.'

Konan is frowning. As her mind works her eyes light up in pretty hues of scarlet.

'If it wasn't Sasuke, but looked like Sasuke...'

Nagato's breath is frozen in his throat. Only that morning they'd been speaking of goals and dreams and Sasuke had said he knew what his own was.

Konan grins. Mischievously. Her sharp teeth draw Nagato's eye. Moment like this he wishes he had the confidence to kiss her.

Her grin is infectious.

'We've found him.'

Itachi smiles.

'Well, you're right. I don't have an older brother to give me the 'Big Brother Remedy'. But... there is another cure, which works even better!'

Sasuke gasps. 'We need to find it! Just in case you get hurt! What is it?'

Itachi chuckles. His laugh is warm and deep.

'The best cure of all for when a bigger brother is hurting...'

He is smiling again. Sasuke doubts he will ever forget that smile.

'... is a great big hug from his little brother! It's called the 'Little Brother Remedy'. And... come to think of it...'

He rubs his back. 'I really overworked myself today. My back is killing me...'

Sasuke is upon him before he can even finish his sentence. A bone-crushing, tiny-armed hug around the neck.

'I will always be here...' mumbles the child, 'with the 'Little Brother Remedy'. Whenever you need it.'

Itachi's smile is softer, now. The heat of the furnace lights them both in a sunset glow.

'Thank you, Sasuke.'

A/N: Special thanks to Arcane Azmadi, who has created a TV Tropes page for this fanfiction. If you'd like to review, discuss or comment upon the story in a more open forum than the fanfiction website, I'd encourage you to go there; type 'TV Tropes RED fanfiction' into Google and it will be the first link. It's also useful for interpreting symbolism or "underneath the underneath" tidbits that I have woven in for the keen-eyed reader; if you have struggled with any aspects of plot with this story (I know a few readers have found some early sections confusing due to the choppy narration and cut-away style of writing) then the TV Tropes page is good for gaining some perspective.

Please let me know what you thought of this rather grizzly chapter. I struggled writing it because of the very vivid subject matter and felt uncomfortable at a number of stages. Knowing the plot, I'm sure there is more discomfort to come.

Thanks as always to editor Janine for helping out. And thanks to all reviewers so far; your reviews do touch me very deeply. To know my work is affecting you on an intimate level is a great honour and I will always strive to improve for you. I've had some comments indicating that readers believe 160 ish reviews for this story is 'criminal' and so if you can think of any ways in which we can improve the readership of this story, I am all ears! But for now, you, my loyal readers, will of course do perfectly well enough. Your support and dedication to see this piece of work out means so much to me!