In the shinobi prison, which was located so close to the palace the Councillors sweat-shined foreheads could reflect the brightly colored flags on top, prison politics were at play. Kankuro's cell reflected the attempts of the guards not to give him special treatment while still giving him special treatment. It was in the upper levels of the prison, away from the common thieves and drunkards. It was at the end of a narrow hallway, with two small windows instead of one. The floor had a clean but plain rug for him to sit on and the washbasin had been cleaned before he came in. Kankuro was trying to sleep sitting up, head drooping into his folded arms, face and body scrubbed clean. In spite of this, he was the last to be served and the most common to be badgered.

Across from him, in a large cell, was Ishihen. The councillor hadn't slept since he had gone out the night before. But that didn't inhibit his energy. Whenever a guard passed by he scrambled to the bars and begged for his family. This was usually met first with warning shouts then the dull end of metal rods. His face had become puffy and deeply bruised from the jabbing. He didn't quiet down until Kankuro was brought in. He sat in the darkest corner, legs pulled up, and watched Kankuro doze. He wiped at his face, pushing his knuckles against the swelled purple skin that was once his eye, and fought with his desire to call out to him and the terror of what that might do.

Kankuro could feel the scrutiny and attempted to ignore it. He was kept from sleeping, but tried very hard to not appear so. An hour passed as the tension grew, until he couldn't take it anymore. He pushed himself onto his haunches, grunting as his stiff joints complained. He rose, moving to the far end of his cell, as close to Ishihen as he could get.

"Hey." He said, leaning one arm over to rap his knuckles against the other's bars. "I know you're watching me and I really don't care; except that I'm just trying to sleep. It's been a long night. For everyone. So I just want to sleep, ok?"

Ishihen watched him from the shadows. Kankuro looked over his beaten face and filthy robes.

"You look like shit." He sighed, leaning his head against the cold bars. Ishishen only nodded slowly, pushing his knuckles into his bruised eye.

"Stop that." Kankuro's voice cut over to him, making him freeze. "You'll only irritate the wound. Don't you know anything? Keep your hands away from your face."

"Where are my girls?" Ishishen said, staring down at his trembling hand. It was swollen and smeared with blood and pus. Kankuro looked at it too, what he could see of it, and felt the first stirrings of unease.

"I dunno man. But you're a councillor so they'll be taken care of." He waited for a response and when he didn't get one, moved away from the bars. He sat back down on his carpet, adjusting until he was semi-comfortable and closed his eyes.

At the end of the hall two guards stood watch. They weren't Anbu but they didn't need to be. If a prisoner tried to escape all they really had to do was scream and the entire floor would be swarming with Anbu in moments. They were too close to the palace to attempt anything. Ishishen scooted until he was halfway turned, staring at them. He knew he would cry out soon; that he would beg for information on his family. He could feel the panic rise up in him like bile. But the scraps of his pride remained so that he was afraid of being beaten in Kankuro's presence. He sat and shook in the dark. He suppressed a groan, then bit his lip to keep from crying out to them. He turned back to Kankuro, eyes pleading even though the other's eyes were closed, and gasped a few times before speaking.

"How do you know?"

"…What?" Kankuro said, squinting at him. He had propped himself back against the wall, arms folded, and looked at the councillor through the tips of his bangs.

"H-how do you know they'll be taken care of? My wife. My wife is about to give birth. She's going to have our son. Here. In this place. And my daughters-"

"Your many, many daughters and very pregnant wife are connected to you. Honestly, unless one of them decided to start screaming uncontrollably then they'll come out in better shape than you."

Ishishen shuddered. He could imagine three of his daughters doing just that. Their swelled, tear-stained faces rose in his mind like phantoms. He shakily got to his knees.

"I have to find them! I have to-"

"What? Get a broken nose? What do you even mean 'find them'? They're in the same building, just downstairs! Just sit down and-"

"You don't understand! You're not concerned because… Because if it was your family you could order them out! If it was your children they'd never be here in the first place!" He straightened up, his panic swelling inside him.

He began to pace inside his cell as his voice rose, hands reaching out at the space in front of him as if he could summon what he needed by will alone. One of the guards moved silently away from the hall entrance, stepping purposefully down to their cells. His metal baton swinging lightly at his hip. Kankuro's eyes darted from it to the councillor and back again. He rose to his feet, trying to reclaim Ishishen's attention.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Just calm down! If you get killed who will be there for your family?"

Ishishen stopped, panting. He took a half step toward Kankuro, a half step toward the metal bars. Kankuro beat one fist against his own bars.

"Who will help your family if you die, huh?! Keep that in mind, you idiot!"

The guard stopped between them, one hand on his hip.

"Problem?" He said slowly, looking down his nose at both of them in turn. Kankuro sneered at his tone, making sure to remember his face.

I've had too long a night for this so just keep riling me up, asshole. When I get out of here I'm going to beat the shit out of you.

The guard must have known that look; he moved to stand in front of Kankuro's cell.

"Problem?" He said again, eyes level. Kankuro held his gaze, fury in his eyes even as he spoke.

"Nope. No problem."

"I wish I could believe that." The guard replied, patting his baton. Kankuro balked.

Does he seriously think he can threaten me with a piece of metal?! I've been in prison for all of an hour and suddenly I'm an idiot?

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Kankuro asked almost softly. The guard sneered at him.

"What do you think you're doing? One more word out of you and that's all it takes. One. More. Word." He raised the baton, waving it in the air at eye level.

"Does 'go fuck yourself' count as one?" Kankuro said, pushing his body against the bars. He clutched them in his white-knuckled fists, legs trembling with the effort it took not to smash the guard's kneecap with the heel of his foot.

The guard raised the baton, swinging high. Kankuro watched its progression, his anger momentarily overshadowed by the shock that the guard assumed he could be hit so easily by such an obvious move. He took half a step back, catching the baton in his left hand. He twisted it, breaking the guard's hold. His foot came next. It collided with the guard's knee with a sickening crunch; the scream came a breath after. The guard crumpled against the bars, his eyebrow splitting open from the impact. Kankuro reached out and grabbed the baton in both hands, pulling it until the guard's neck was caught and face pushed up toward him. His hands scrambled for purchase, fingers grasping at every surface. Kankuro watched, sneering, as he waited for the man to support his own weight. If he didn't his neck would snap from the pressure. Ishishen watched too, eye open wide, hands trembling. It was only a few seconds but he felt it drag on. The man's hands reached out, desperate, choking and sputtering. His good leg pushed him up and away, his other leg shaking badly. It was only a few seconds. The other guard had begun running over but didn't raise an alarm. He kept quiet as he moved up, steadying his chakra as he ran.

Kankuro saw him coming and maintained eye contact the whole time. The second stopped short, raised both his hands, and waited. They watched each other, the strangled gasps breaking the silence.

"Release him, Lord Kankuro. You're in violation of our laws." He said, hands still raised. When he didn't receive an answer he spoke again, eyes glancing down to the guard against the bars.

"You know any report I make against you will be absolved within hours." Kankuro's mouth twitched, a second-long smile. "But I request that you do not kill our guards. Since your brother's condition worsened we've been short-handed, so… Please. Do not kill him. I know he's an asshole, but please do not."

Finally, Kankuro released him. He stepped back as the guard crumpled to the ground, choking fresh. His companion knelt to his side, running his hand over is throat, then his knee. He straightened up, moving away. Kankuro tossed the baton to the ground with an air of annoyance.

"Be sure to keep your shit in line. I'm not in the mood to play with you assholes." He said, scratching his ear.

Ishishen, caught between the memory of his wounds and the loyalty trained into him, kept his silence but moved closer, clutching the bars in his ruined hands. The guard quickly grabbed the baton, leaving his companion on the ground as he raised his right arm to his collar. A small button was pressed before a short buzz of static could be heard.

"Sentry Eleven reporting. Sentry Eight down. Instigated attack upon Lord Kankuro. No backup requested. Medical team requested." He kept his eyes on Kankuro the whole time.

"Sentry Eleven; medical assistance coming. Delay of fifteen minutes. Backup deployed."

He glanced down at his companion. The man's mouth was open and saliva dribbled out the corner, making a frothy pool on the ground beneath him. His wounded leg was stretched out in front of him, both hands were white-knuckled against the upper thigh of it. His other leg went ignored, stretched out in front of him until the toe of his boot breached Kankuro's bars.

"Response to delay; have structural expert summoned. I'll do what I can here." The guard said again, then released the button.

He moved to the man's shoulders, gently placing his hands underneath him. He hesitated, bracing himself, before hauling the upper body off the ground. The man lurched, screaming again, his right hand flying out into the open, his hands straining for a hold. He was dragged quickly down the hall, the screams raising in pitch, until a bout of vomit abruptly stopped him. It spewed down his front, pale orange and flecked in red, his hoarse gasps sounding wet and ragged. The other guard responded by lifting him even higher until his tailbone was pulled away from the floor, forcing more pressure on to his shattered knee. Another bout of vomit and they had managed to clear the doorway, the sounds of his suffering echoing down the hall long after they had left.

Ishishen waited until the door swung shut before speaking, eye frantically looking between it and Kankuro.

"You shouldn't have done that! You should not have done that! They'll be back with more, Lord Kankuro! Too many for you! You're not a Lord in here; you're just a prisoner!"

"Do me a favor and shut up, will you? What was I supposed to do, let him beat me?" He turned to glare at Ishishen, flexing his hands at his sides.

"You'll be beaten regardless! Don't you know the system of your own village!?"

"Of course I do! How couldn't I?"

"Then you must know what the punishment for assaulting an officer is!"

"I'm not going to get punished. You heard him; Gaara or Temari will absolve me. And any asshole who thinks he can piss on me because I'm in here doesn't know the first fucking thing about Suna!"

Ishishen sighed, pushing his swollen fingers against his scalp. Half dried blood smeared into the sweaty strands, leaving small wads slicked through; flecking his head with blood. He looked at Kankuro a long time; longer then the gaze was returned. When Kankuro sat back down, then rose and began pacing, Ishishen let his hands fall to his sides.

"Please Lord Kankuro. I would rather not see you be harmed."

"I won't be!" Kankuro turned on his heel, making another lap around the cell. He glared at him for the length of time it took to sneer and step away.

"Please. At least listen to them. It can't harm you to listen to them, can it?"

"How can you not see the damage that's already done? This is what happens when you try to play by other people's rules!" Kankuro shot back.

"I don't understand." Ishishen said as he reached out to the wall for balance, lowering himself slowly down until he was a crumpled mess of dirty robes once more on the concrete of his cell.

"No. You don't. Stop trying to get help; it'll never happen." Kankuro stopped pacing long enough to speak to him, before moving around again.

"You're going to get beaten to death before you see your family again. But I won't be beaten and then have to face mine! God Ishishen, what did you expect?! Some guard would share information with you about the location and status of other prisoners just because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Ishishen's voice rose despite himself. "I'm not upset, Lord Kankuro. My family-!"

"Is in prison!" Kankuro turned suddenly, raising his hands and planting his feet. Ishishen flinched hard, pulling his hands up to cover his face. Kankuro saw it, that fear, and kept himself from moving forward even though he couldn't have reached him.

"There is nothing you can do for them! Nothing! Don't you get that? You can't protect them in here and you dying will just mean your family has to live off the village directly; and you know how well that turns out!"

Ishishen knew. Many high ranking officials never died young; they never fought in battle. So to have a woman of high standing be thrown in with the widows, widowers, and orphans of the more common households was like putting a wounded hen in a henhouse. His wife was strong, he knew, but she would have to endure not only her pain but the pain inflicted on their daughters.

The stink of blood and vomit began to swell in the heat and Kankuro felt his leg tremble from the memory of impact. He paced again, slowly, going through his mental exercises to beat down the initial shock of his attack. It happened to every shinobi; that panic that came from inflicting pain on others was never beaten, only managed. Only a scarce few could see the memory of the fight, of the victory, without so much as flinching from it. But those shinobi had the fear, not the respect, of their peers.

Unfortunately Ishshen didn't spend time with shinobi, with the exception of Gaara, who's habits were often unnerving even by shinobi standards. He interpreted Kankuro's pacing not as a calming gesture, but an irritated one. He looked to the closed door and the vomit smeared along the floor in small drops and thin streaks, gleaming a sick orange in the sunlight. The edges were baking brown. He thought of the metal baton. The throbbing in his eye recaptured his attention.

"Lord Kankuro." He began, leaning his head against the cold stone wall. "Please stop. If they come in and see you like this… Like, like you're still riled, it will give them a reason to engage you." When Kankuro didn't answer, didn't stop, Ishishen drew his legs closer to himself and settled for watching him.

Before he realized it, he was searching Kankuro for signs of the Kazekage. Examining him like a specimen, seeking out physical traits. But Kankuro held no signs of Gaara in his body. His neck was too thick, his hair was too brown, his hands and feet were large and calloused. He even moved differently; he stomped and lumbered. Ishishen's eye grew sore from watching. But there was a part of him that was even more sore; he tried to relieve it.

"It's not so surprising." He said, eyes stopping as Kankuro stopped and looked at him. "It's not surprising that this happened."

"What?" Kankuro asked, not unkindly. He welcomed the distraction.

"It's not surprising that I ended up here. I could-I should have helped him. I made a mistake, but it was to protect my family. My wife; she was so worried about me going out to help him. I listened to her too late but I just wanted to protect her."

"… No one can blame you for that." Kankuro replied. He was still standing, but began to feel uncomfortable. He moved to his carpet and sat down.

"I can. He can. I'm sure my wife does." Ishishen chuckled weakly. "She must be so furious with me."

"She'll get over it when she sees you're alive."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He watched Kankuro fidget on his carpet. "You look nothing like him."

"You mean Gaara."

"Yes. Nothing at all. I suppose that's a blessing, isn't it? For those times you run away."

"I'm not running away. I'm just… Taking a break." Kankuro's face reddened and his eyes darted away.

"Of course." Ishishen easily replied.

"What do you care anyway? It's not like I do anything important. Hell, I couldn't even get one form! One single form. That's all I needed to do. God!" Kankuro said, turning his head away. One hand ran through his hair and began rubbing at his neck. "God…"

Ishishen nodded slowly.

"Sometimes, when I need to take a break, I go to the market and spend hours moving with the crowd. It's so relaxing, being pulled like that, feeling the pulse of something greater." His eyes were flat, even as his voice softened. "It's why I decided to give up my old profession and become a councillor. I felt so connected that I started to love those people; love every face in that crowd. I thought that by becoming a councillor I could make a difference; I could show this village how much I love it." He exhaled until his shoulders sagged. "What a failure I've become."

"… Hey, Ishishen. You're not… you're not a failure, ok?" Ishishen turned his head away. Now it was Kankuro's turn to watch him.

"I mean; yeah you completely failed at helping Gaara and your own family, so in a way you're a failure as a councillor, husband, and father. But you have to roll with the punches, you know?"

"…"

"Look, I… I think you're pretty cool, ok?"

Ishishen looked up sharply, eye wide. Kankuro groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, blocking his eyes. His voice raised as he spoke.

"I'm not… Good at this. But… If I had to choose someone to be at Gaara's side. You know, to actually council him? I'd choose you man."

Ishishen was a long time in answering.

"In… Any other situation, I would be honored to hear such a thing from you. But I can't feel that now. I feel like there are knives in my chest, like I'm being smothered. I just need to make sure that my family won't suffer from my mistakes… But I can't be sure of that. Because I know that they're suffering. That it's my fault. It's-You should have heard them scream…" He rubbed his knuckles into his eye again, flinching at the pain. His whole body trembled.

Kankuro grimaced, watching him. "Ishishen-"

The doors at the end of the hall creaked open, letting in an older woman. She moved to the end of the hall purposefully, carefully stepping around the smears of vomit. As she approached, Kankuro and Ishishen both turned to watch, one with interest and the other with dread.

She held a key up in front of Kankuro's cell, waiting. He waited until she unlocked his door and, without a glance in Ishishen's direction, turned and began to lead Kankuro down the hall. He looked back and saw the councillor's horrified, worried face.

"Don't worry. Your family won't be in here long. And neither will you." He said before turning away. Ishishen moved to the bars and pressed himself against them, watching him leave. He gripped the bars so tight the sweat and blood on his hands made them slip twice. Then the doors closed.

A/N: I'm so sorry about the delay! And also about this being another focus on Kankuro. He's just such a useful card to play. But I will make good on my word, so don't be afraid that Temari, or any particular character, will be left without attention.