A/N: Unusually short chapter in exchange for an unusually fast update.
Warning: Graphic descriptions of a crime scene. Character death. Violence. Not much gets resolved.
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So much blood.
The smell was thick enough Naruto could taste it, and he came to retching and spitting. His face was hot and the floor was hard and sticky and for a while that was all there was—blood and pain, lots and lots of pain. Then he could hear, ears filling with the gasping rasp of his own breath for long seconds before he realized he was the one breathing; the blurry mess of color his open eyes couldn't quite comprehend shifted, separated, and then he could see and really, really wished he couldn't.
His gut told him he was alone, but someone else was there. Someone very still, very pale, and very dead.
He didn't know where he was. Didn't know how—Dad, Mom, I was with them—in the—in the hospital—DAD—MOM—
He tried to get up, and threw up instead. There was nothing in his belly but water and acid, and it burned his throat and mixed with the blood he lay in (so—much—blood—) and set him heaving again but he was trained for this, to get up heaving and bleeding, to shut down everything but the order that would keep him moving, breathing, fighting, and he made it onto hands and knees and crawled through blood and bile to stretch out trembling fingers just far enough to brush blonde bangs from a staring face. Six parallel lines wept red, three on each cheek.
No.
"Yugito-nee," he said. Begged. For a moment everything welled up again: fear, relief, horror, guilt—and words were coming out of his mouth that he couldn't understand, because Yugito couldn't be dead, couldn't be killed. She—she killed, couldn't be killed, wasn't like Mom and Dad who needed bodyguards and even that wasn't enough and MOM—DAD—
Shut down, his last shred of clear thought whispered. Shut it down, Naruto.
He closed his eyes, cowered back, breathed in, stopped feeling, breathed out.
When he opened his eyes, he heard everything, saw everything, felt nothing.
He was alone.
He was in an apartment. Yugito's apartment, maybe, though he'd never been inside. The place was wrecked. Yugito fought, and fought hard. Must have—must have been cut up, like that, after. Hadn't gone down alone, probably, because one body had a lot of blood but this—but whoever killed her, whomever she killed, they were gone. And Naruto was here. And so was his knife. No, not his, but the same model, and it was in a piece of Yugito.
Get out.
Okay, he agreed, and managed to stand, dripping blood, and there were two windows and two doors and this was a trap but that didn't mean he was caught—yet—
But he'd been with Mom and Dad when he blacked out, and—time—it was always about time, what if there was still time—
There was a phone in Yugito's jacket pocket. He grabbed for it, cursed as it slipped from his sticky-slippery red-soaked hand, swept panicked eyes over windows and doorways as fingers found a dishtowel to wipe with, picked up the phone again, put in the number he'd memorized long before he'd ever have admitted to doing so.
Pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up—the window was locked, so was the door leading farther into the apartment, breaking the window would be fastest—Shit, three stories up—his left leg wasn't taking weight, his chest ripped and burned every time he moved his left arm—
"This is Namikaze," came through speaker pressed to his ear, harsh but clear, and the rush of oxygen to his lungs that came with it had Naruto's hand shaking so bad he almost dropped the phone again.
"Dad," he said, "You're alive—you're—"
Footsteps. Outside, pounding towards the front door. Boots, heavy, many of them. Running. Five seconds—
"Naruto! Where are you? Naruto, are you—Kushina, it's him—" Four—three—
"Love you," whispered Naruto. Had no pockets, dropped the phone. Climbed the counter. Wrapped his good hand around the marble knife-block resting by the sink. Smashed glass. Two. Grabbed a knife—
"KPD, STAND BACK! BACK AWAY FROM THE DOOR!"
One.
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vIvIv
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"Can you track this number?" Minato's voice was clipped and clear, but Genma heard enough suppressed panic to get all the hairs on his arms standing on end. A new window pinged open on Raidou's laptop, announcing the successful remote connection to Minato's phone. "My phone says it's blocked, but the line's still open, he didn't hang up—"
Raidou was already tapping into the call, and as he turned up the volume there was a slight buzz of static before what sounded awfully like an explosion. "KPD! FREEZE! Hands in the air—"
Genma and the unseen KPD officer yelling over the tapped phone line swore simultaneously. Don't be stupid, Naruto, prayed Genma, fingers flying as he guided his software through the blocked phone's defenses, copying coordinates into mapping software as Raidou fine-tuned the call connection.
"Get that door open! Yes, I see the window—" a grim voice crackled through. "This is one sick bastard, look at this mess…" another was saying, and orders were flying. A building was being surrounded, a pursuit strategy was being laid out, and an address had just been pinpointed by Genma's computer. "Permission granted to use lethal force. Suspect is armed and dangerous—"
"Ready, boss?" He asked, and at Minato's desperate affirmative, reeled off the address. Wished he could say something that would keep Minato and Kushina from rushing in there, knew there was nothing in the world that would stop them. "We'll meet you there."
Iwashi was at the door, armed and brandishing kevlar vests. "Get dressed in the car," he said grimly. I'll be here with Princess. Hatake's going with you. Good luck."
"Yeah," mumbled Genma. Don't get killed, kid, don't— "Wish we were the ones who needed it."
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UoHoU
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His fingers were slipping. One hand on the windowsill between him and a ten meter drop, and what with the blood and sweat and his own sickening weight, Naruto was going to fall.
He heard the apartment door blast open, the shock reverberating through the walls hard enough to cost him another couple centimeters of his grip. Ten meters was looking really freaking high. Butit was get down or get shot down, so the thought go, and swung his hips to throw his body to the side, and fell. Right arm caught the drainpipe he'd aimed for, gripped, palm burned and peeled as his body screeched downwards, until the bare soles of his feet clamped around the metal, and he slid the rest of the way with some measure of control. There were shouts above, they'd seen the broken window, he had less than seconds—and there, in the first bit of luck he'd had since waking covered in blood, frantic eyes caught a first floor window halfway open. He dropped, stumbled the meter to window, pushed it wide, hauled himself up and over the sill, landed in a full kitchen sink with a crunch and a splash that drew the stares of the cute little family watching television across the room.
Naruto pulled the knife out of his teeth. "Sorry, sorry," he said, hopped down, and just before the screams started, ran.
They had a door to a hallway in the same place Yugito's apartment had, but theirs wasn't locked. He found the back bedroom, but it only had windows on the same side he'd come through—no good—the bathroom had a window, small and high, but at least it was on the right wall. He locked the door behind him, wrenched the window open, registered what he'd just seen in the mirror, reeled back in shock.
With a butcher knife in one hand, bare feet, and hair, face and hospital pajamas all dripping blood, he wasn't gonna get very far. There was an overflowing laundry hamper, but the underwear spilling out was toddler-sized, and he went for the towel thrown over the curtain rod instead, desperately mopping at the red covering drenching his face and hair. There wasn't much he could do about getting clothes. Not unless he ventured into the other rooms again, but with the way the family in the front room was crying and yelling for yelp—he'd already scared them badly enough, and surely the cops would have heard them by now—so it was onto the counter, in two tries because his stupid left leg wasn't working, and through the window, and collapse more than land, gasping against the pain. He couldn't do this on one leg, couldn't breathe around the agony in his chest, couldn't see straight with the way his head spun—
Sewers. Don't hafta go far, just gotta get under—
Up, get UP—
Raw fingers clawed their way up the brick wall, and he was standing again, muscles locking and holding even if the hurt was searing, and once he was standing he was running. The towel was probably useless, but he took it with him, threw it around his neck, if he could just hide some of the blood—there, the street was clear, just had to get across, he couldn't be more than a block from a manhole.
"FREEZE!"
Fuck.
Spin, duck, run the other way. There had to be two ways out of this alley. Shit, more cops. But only two, and their backs were to him—dammit, they were turning as the ones behind him shouted—he twisted the knife in his right hand, attacked hilt first, had one man down before the other was sure what he was even looking at. The other man went down with a knife-hilt to the face, but only to one knee, and came back up, baton swinging.
He ducked the first blow, couldn't pivot on his bum leg fast enough to avoid the second. The hit exploded over his left shoulder, just above where stitches stretched and pulled, took Naruto's breath and vision with it as pain roared red.
The knife in his hand turned on its own, muscle memory driving it forward before he could think, struck true. His attacker gasped, swore, staggered back.
He could see again and the knife was sticking out of the cop's chest and Naruto wanted to cringe, hit the rewind button, somehow undo what he'd just done. He ran instead. They'd start shooting any second now. He didn't know why they hadn't shot at him—yet—maybe he'd make it—just one more time, get ridiculously lucky one more time—
Yugito's dead, that stupid voice in his head that always had too much time to think whispered, Who's gonna save you this time? Huh? Huh, Naruto? Lucky, hah—
He rounded the corner, stumbled, shrank back against into the wall. This was the front of Yugito's building, and there was nothing but a strip of sidewalk and the wide sweep of stairs leading to the double front doors between him and a half-ring of cop cars and a freaking army of fully armed and armored officers.
Caught.
There was a shout, and the first shot rang out, pinged into cement beside him. From behind, from the ones were who chasing him, but instantly the eyes and aim of the dozen armed men before him were focused too.
He risked a half-breath pause, for the cops to realize that he was between them, that if they shot at him they'd hit each other. Just before his pursuers could get close enough to attack or the mini-battalion at the foot of the stairs could decide on their orders, threw himself down the stairs.
Felt the jolt of every cement edge on the way down. He'd half-jumped, half fallen, crumpled on landing, rolled. Reach the bottom, tried to stand up, only made it to one knee before they were on him, boots kicking, batons swinging, he took one out at the knees but then there was that very special pop that featured frequently in his worst nightmares and he was done.
Didn't feel the taser barbs go in. But he knew what was happening. Felt every second of every muscle contracting in perfect slow-motion, felt his head crash into cement and the skin of his cheek rip as he lost all control of every part of his body, felt the pain in his leg and chest and palms explode to unbearable levels, heard the tortured groan rip through his throat, rode through every helpless convulsion in unrelenting agony.
It ended. A hand reach into his hair, twisted tight, wrenched his chin up. Cold metal pressed into his jaw.
It was an officer he should recognize, Naruto knew, but the haze was growing, sparks of light blinding and words a long, long way from coming.
"...Didn't quite believe the tip," the man was saying. "But what a prize. What a special, special prize. Thought you'd slip away again, Gatekeeper? Go on, fight your way out, little one, I know a touch of taser isn't enough to stop you, perhaps we should start with three or four rounds..."
Naruto said nothing. Spat blood before he choked on it.
"Again," said the man. The gun against his head disappeared. He braced—
Pop.
—gagged down a scream—
—it would never end—
"Stop."
For a moment, Naruto believed the Fox had come for him. No one else could make a single word promise death. But—
A blur of movement, a flash of crimson, something furious colliding with the man who held him, and strong hands lifting him, cradling him—eyes, blue eyes seeking his—
NO—
"I've got you, Naruto, I've got you—"
Please please—
There was shouting and fighting, police officers that must have come with his parents arguing with the ones who'd just beaten him. Names were yelled and guns were pointed and Mom was gonna get arrested if she kept wailing on that coppers like that and cameras were flashing and he'd never seen Dad so furious, so helpless, knew now that it was Dad who had made them stop, but there were officers dragging Naruto out of Dad's arms now, onto his knees and cuffing his wrists behind his back and every time he blinked he saw blood and knives on the backs of his eyelids: the knife-like-his in Yugito's bleeding-broken body and the knife-not-his he'd just driven into an officer's lung.
Then they were making him stand, and his vision greyed out and his leg caved in and one of the men holding him cursed and jerked him upright again, and as his head wobbled something hot and wet ran into his eye. If he couldn't walk, they'd just drag him.
Please no…
"Dad—" he twisted, trying to see, got kicked for it, but he wasn't fighting, he really wasn't, he just had to— "DAD—Dad—it—it wasn't me, tell Mom it wasn't me—Yugito-nee—I didn't, didn't—Dad—Dad—"
Dad was yelling at the officer who'd kicked him, but maybe he heard, because he cut off suddenly, and through a haze of grey and red Naruto found blue eyes again.
"It wasn't me," he said.
"I know," Dad said. And kept talking, maybe promising, but all Naruto could hear was the steel snap of the perfectly primed jaws of a trap.
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opMqo
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A/N: Just wanted to give my continued heartfelt thanks for reviews. Still very sick. Learning how to cope with it a little better. (You probably can't tell right now, but I'm a sucker for happy endings.)