Second Chance

Summary: Shikamaru is back, war flashbacks and everything. But no matter how much foreknowledge he has, changing the future is not as easy as he thought. His Hokage being set back to a snot nosed brat that reacts bewildered to any form of affection does not help. At all.

Meanwhile, Gaara is thrown back to being avoided and feared, while being tormented by a voice urging him to kill every step that he takes. He really needs someone to fix the seal this time around...

Chapter 27

Shikamaru's plan was falling apart at its seams. Not only had his father seen straight through his Henge, he also hadn't allowed Shikamaru so much as a second free from his shadow bind technique.

He was stuck: unable to twitch so much as a finger without his father making him do so, and unable to contact Gaara or use any of the failsafes they'd come up with.

Dread curled up in Shikamaru's stomach, his predicament tightening like a rope around his neck. He felt horribly, unbearably out of his depth. He was good at planning ahead, but all of his strategic prowess was useless when he didn't have the background knowledge to back it up.

He didn't know what had Konoha in such a frenzy after Gaara and he'd left. He didn't know why his father was cooperating with the Uchiha or how long it had been going on. He had no clue exactly which of his actions had caused all of these changes – because he had to be responsible somehow, didn't he?

Shikamaru made no sound in the time it took his father to march him straight into an interrogation chamber. Mikoto had left – to where, Shikamaru didn't know – and his father shooed out the ANBU guards that had come with them.

The first few minutes were the worst, because they spent them sitting across each other in a thick, oppressive silence. Shikamaru didn't dare speak first. He was at a disadvantage in every conceivable way.

The person who eventually spoke was Konoha's jōnin commander, not Shikamaru's father. "Where were you?"

"You need to let me go." Shikamaru snapped his jaw shut as soon as the words had broken out.

"I don't need to do anything," his father said tonelessly. "Where were you?"

"You don't understand–"

"No. I don't. So help me understand."

Shikamaru resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

He needed to think about this logically. Logic was what his father was all about. He wanted to understand what had made Shikamaru act the way he did. He wanted to see the reason behind all of it.

"Okay," Shikamaru said, pressing out a ragged breath. "Okay. Dad. I know you have questions."

He paused, trying to put himself in his father's position. He would look straight through Shikamaru's lies. The truth was too fantastical to be a genuine option.

Or was it? Shikamaru chewed on his lip, thinking of Shizune and Tsunade and their easy acceptance once they'd gotten over the first shock of it. The ripple injuries had been the last straw for them. Maybe it would be the same for his father?

"Alright." Shikamaru took a breath, starting anew. "Dad. Something's been going on in the village for a while. You probably caught glimpses of it. People are getting hurt. There's injuries – not necessarily bad ones, but they seem to come out of nowhere."

His father's gaze had gotten sharp. "You know what's been happening to the Uchiha?"

"The Uchiha?" Panic welled up in Shikamaru's chest in icy waves. There was only one thing putting the Uchiha apart from the rest of the villagers: the massacre. "When did it happen? Did somebody die?" He'd spent weeks away from the village. Nothing should have happened to anyone during the time he was gone.

His father hesitated. "Nobody died," he said slowly. "Why would you think someone did?"

"Why did you mention the Uchiha?" Shikamaru insisted. "What happened to them?"

"We're not here to talk about the Uchiha." His father looked frustrated to have brought them up in the first place. "We're here to talk about you. Trying to deflect won't make me forget–"

"Dad, please," Shikamaru interrupted. "This is important. I swear there's a connection, just let me... Tell me why you mentioned the Uchiha. Please."

His father's eyes rested on him heavily, and Shikamaru wished he could tell what he was thinking.

"You mentioned the injuries," his father told him at last. His voice was slow and tentative as though he was weighing each word carefully. "Do you know about the visions, too?"

Shikamaru's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "What do you mean by 'visions'?"

His father shook his head, exasperated at either himself or the way they kept talking around each other. "Forget about it. That's not what we're here for."

"You mentioned only the Uchiha being affected," Shikamaru continued. "But that's wrong. Anybody could suffer the consequences, not just them."

So why did his father know about the Uchiha, but not anybody else? What made the Uchiha stand out? And what were those visions he–

Shikamaru's eyes widened. "It's the Sharingan, isn't it?" His rapid thoughts made Shikamaru feel dizzy. "They're not visions. Dad, they're memories."

The Sharingan captured photographic memory whenever it was activated. Evidently there were more than just injuries being carried over from the other timeline. It was only natural that the Uchiha would stand out: a couple scratches and bruises were easily ignored. Strange memories about another reality, however? Less so.

"Who's been telling you about this?" his father whispered.

"Nobody did. Dad, if you'd just let me–"

"Was it Danzō?" his father interrupted. "Or one of his subordinates?"

"I figured it out myself. Dad, you need to listen to me."

"What I need is for you to tell me your role in all of this." His father's gaze had a strained quality to it. "I should have realized something was wrong far sooner."

Guilt gnawed at Shikamaru's gut and clogged up his throat. "Dad, I..."

The door to the interrogation chamber opened. Another Uchiha slipped through, and Shikamaru's father straightened up in his seat, his expression once again turning blank.

"I'm busy right now."

"Duly noted," the Uchiha said, and slipped into the chair next to his father's. His eyes pinned Shikamaru with a gaze of steel.

"Fugaku," his father started.

"You're emotionally compromised," the Uchiha – Fugaku Uchiha – interrupted. "This is your one chance of staying involved in the investigation. Either accept a neutral party to keep you accountable, or delegate the task to someone else."

His father looked willing to throw Fugaku out of the room with his bare hands. His glare didn't intimidate Fugaku in the slightest, and the staring contest went on for several uncomfortable, tense heartbeats.

In the end, his father tore away his eyes. "Fine," he said, reluctance heavy in his voice. "Just you."

Fugaku gave a solemn, joyless nod.

Shikamaru tried his hardest not to stare. In another reality, the Uchiha had isolated themselves from the village to the extreme. They'd played into Itachi's – into Danzō's – hands and made the massacre possible in the first place.

Now, his father accepted advice from the Uchiha clan head. He and Fugaku were past mere speaking terms. If their interaction was anything to go by, they'd built trust between them far beyond what Shikamaru could have hoped for.

When exactly had the changes began to affect clan relations?

"What do you know about the incidents that happened to my clan members?" Fugaku asked bluntly. He must have been eavesdropping before he'd made his appearance.

Shikamaru hesitated. He hadn't even come to terms with the fact that he might have to trust his father with the truth. He didn't know Fugaku. How was he supposed to trust a stranger with something he struggled to tell even his father?

"We can't help you if you won't tell us what's wrong," his father said, his voice too soft to belong in an interrogation chamber. It felt like he'd let his professional mask slip, now that there was somebody else to pick up his slack. "Please, Shikamaru. Let me help you."

The phrasing made something ache inside Shikamaru's chest.

Shikamaru wasn't entirely sure what did it. Maybe his time out of the village had put things into perspective for him. Maybe it was Tsunade and Shizune having already listened to and believed their story. Maybe it was the part of him that wanted to desperately, childishly do as his father asked and make him fix everything that had gone wrong over the last couple weeks.

No matter what it was, Shikamaru found that he wanted nothing more than to take up his father on his offer.

If that meant having to extent his trust in his father to include someone he obviously relied on, so be it.

"If I'm going to tell you," Shikamaru started, the words slowing down his voice like lead, "you'll have to keep listening to the end."

"Is your story that unbelievable?" Fugaku raised his eyebrow.

Shikamaru ignored the comment. "Dad. I knew about the injuries happening. I shouldn't have known about them, but I did."

"You also said that more than just Uchiha were affected," his father said. "If that's true, then you would have had plenty of opportunities to observe it happening."

"True. But it wouldn't explain how I know that as long as I was gone from the village, no other incident could have happened." Shikamaru leaned forward in his seat. "I'm right, aren't I? Think about. There's been nothing for the last several weeks. No incidents, no injuries, no... no visions."

His father shared a glance with Fugaku. Taking it as the prompt that it was, Fugaku gave a curt nod. "I haven't received any other reports," he muttered, almost reluctantly proving Shikamaru right.

"There's been no incidents," Shikamaru pressed, his heart pounding madly in his chest, "because they've been happening because of me."

His father tore his eyes away from him. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's true. There've been no injuries because I wasn't there to cause any."

"Stop saying that." His father's frown deepened. "How could you possibly–"

Shikamaru tugged at his sleeve and revealed the seals inked onto his skin. "It's because of these."

His father took his wrist and turned his arm slowly, regarding the seals from all directions. "Who gave you these?" he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"It's a really long story," Shikamaru said. He was beginning to realize the sheer magnitude of what it meant to tell his father the truth. "But people are in danger as long as I'm here. They'll get hurt."

"Did Danzō do this?" his father asked, ignoring his words entirely. Fury sparked through his eyes, alongside with the occasional sliver of guilt. "What's the point of them? What are they supposed to do?"

"Dad. Focus." Shikamaru pulled his arm out of his father's grip gently. "I just told you: people will get hurt as long as I'm here. You need to let me go."

"You don't honestly believe we'd do that." Fugaku's eyes were pinned on the seals in a contemplative gaze.

He turned to his father as though Shikamaru wasn't even there. "Do we have a fuinjutsu expert in Konoha right now?"

His father hesitated. "Not really. Jiraiya is the closest, and he hasn't been to the village in weeks."

"Do we have a way of contacting him?"

"None that's reliable. Or fast. We might have to wait weeks for an answer."

"We don't have that long."

"Believe me, I know." His father frowned. "There's got to be another way."

Shikamaru looked back and forth between the two, fighting the distinct feeling of whiplash. "What happened while I was gone?" he asked, deciding that this interaction was far too bizarre to just sit through it silently. "Since when are you two... cooperating?"

Neither his father nor Fugaku had the courtesy of offering an explanation.

"If we assume those seals came from Danzō, we can also assume that he has records of them somewhere," Fugaku said.

His father hummed in agreement. "I'll send more people to sift through his documents. They already did a quick sweep of everything we got from his office, but nothing thorough yet."

Fugaku's brows furrowed. "If we could interrogate him–"

"Believe me," his father's expression tightened, "if that was an option, I'd be the first in line to the interrogation chamber."

For the dozenth time since entering this bizarre interaction with his father, Shikamaru felt completely out of his depth. They kept talking about Danzō as though he was an enemy – a fact that would be good for them, better for Shikamaru and the absolute best possible outcome for the Uchiha – except Shikamaru couldn't think of a single thing he'd done to achieve the change in opinion.

He'd taken steps to get closer to Danzō through Aiko with the intention to strike from within. He hadn't yet reached the point of his plan where he could take serious action against him.

Somehow, his father – and Fugaku, however he was involved – seemed to have beaten him to the punch.

As soon as this mess was sorted out, Shikamaru would have some serious catching up to do.

"Where's Danzō?" Shikamaru asked, not seriously expecting his father to answer him. If he was unavailable for an interrogation, that meant he was no longer in the village. Which meant he could no longer meddle with the people within – but it also meant they couldn't keep an eye on him.

"For someone being interrogated, you ask a lot of questions," Fugaku said.

A thud sounded from the hallway, something heavy falling against the closed door in a deadweight.

Shikamaru cut off his answer and went still. Ahead of him, his father and Fugaku jumped to their feet.

Shikamaru's father positioned himself at the doorway so his shadow covered the area. Fugaku took the doorknob, and they exchanged a glance.

Fugaku yanked open the door and a figure slumped through, long black hair spilling onto the ground soaked with red liquid.

Shikamaru's blood ran cold.

"You need to leave," he whispered, eyes glued to the Uchiha police officer. She'd likely been stationed in front of the interrogation room as a guard.

It couldn't be a coincidence – when had Shikamaru ever been that lucky? He'd run out of time. The massacre – the ripples of it – was happening right now, and Shikamaru was in the village to carry over its effects.

People were going to die – someone already had – because on this particular day, Shikamaru's mere presence was a death sentence.

The guard, she'd had no time to scream. The wound had been lethal. Precise. As efficient as only a practiced killer could make it.

(Shikamaru wondered whether Itachi had learned it all in ANBU or whether each and every Uchiha had been target practice. Had the first suffered from their killer's hesitance and dread? Had Itachi gotten more proficient with every member of his family he'd cut down?)

Shikamaru's father checked the hallway for threats while Fugaku crouched down to feel his clan member's pulse. Both of them would fail. There was no enemy and there was no heartbeat, and if Fugaku didn't move away from Shikamaru soon, he'd be next.

"I'll call for a medic," his father muttered. The shadows in the interrogation chamber ran thick and dark, far darker than the light on the ceiling ought to be allowing them to.

"He needs to leave," Shikamaru repeated, jumping to his feet. His back hit the wall as if the couple additional feet would make a difference.

How many Uchiha had died in between the dead guard and Fugaku? How much time had he left until he would drop dead, too?

How many other Uchiha were in the building with them – close enough to drop dead as soon as the Itachi from another reality had finished mowing down all the other Uchiha that had come before them?

Shikamaru realized that Uchiha were, in fact, perfectly capable of also being medics. "Don't call an Uchiha!"

His father had already stepped through the door, and Shikamaru was forced to call after him. "This is what I was trying to tell you! More people will get hurt if you don't– Just– Don't get another Uchiha!"

Just like that, Shikamaru was left alone with Fugaku. Shikamaru's heart pounded in his chest and he had trouble keeping his eyes focused on the yet-but-not-much-longer unhurt Uchiha.

He felt Fugaku's eyes on him, and Shikamaru didn't care to try puzzling out what he was thinking.

"You're trying to tell me I will end up the same," Fugaku said, tasting out the words but not believing them.

Shikamaru shrugged. He felt numb, drained of energy and utterly helpless. He didn't know what was worse: knowing that there could be any number of Uchiha in the building getting hurt because of him right this instance, or waiting for it to happen in front of his own eyes.

It had been his choice to return to Konoha. If Fugaku died, his blood would be on Shikamaru's hands.

The two of them stood in silence, and Fugaku made no move to still the wound or try to reanimate the body.

He was – frustratingly – still positioned right between Shikamaru and the exit. If he tried to use the distraction to flee, it would only get him put into chains. Or worse, knocked out. He wouldn't be able to do anything while unconscious.

A minute passed in jolts and Shikamaru's strained breathing, dragging on long enough that he considered whether other-Itachi had saved his father for last.

By the time Shikamaru's father returned – a blonde, decidedly non-Uchiha medic following in his wake – Shikamaru was using up all of his self-control not to uselessly try to bold through the blocked doorway.

"It's too late," Fugaku told her stoically.

The medic crouched down beside the body regardless, hands glowing green.

"I've got it from here," his father muttered, keeping his eyes on the medic in a distracted-looking gesture that fooled nobody. "Maybe you should go."

Shikamaru's eyes widened, startled.

"Because of what your son is saying?" Fugaku pressed his lips together. "You can't seriously believe him."

"To check if anybody else got hurt," his father corrected without looking up.

Fugaku's scowl deepened. He heaved himself up into an upright position – his movement heavier and slower than it should have been.

Hope blossomed in Shikamaru's chest in waves. If Fugaku went to the Uchiha district right now – far away from the ANBU building and almost definitely out of range of the seals – if he left now, perhaps nobody else would have to get hurt.

Fugaku stopped in his tracks when a commotion sounded through the hallway, frantically nearing steps and a one-sided argument.

"– allow me to bring you to the hospital. You almost collapsed. You shouldn't be on your feet as long as we don't know what–"

An ANBU showed up at the doorway, having dropped her silent facade and hovering close to her companion.

Shikamaru felt his knees going weak and closed his eyes.

"Itachi?" Fugaku was at his son's side in an instant.

Itachi's face was ashen. Tremors shook his body as though he'd spent too long in the cold, and his expression was slack except for his widened eyes.

The irises bled red, its aura so unlike the Sharingan that it sent shivers down Shikamaru's spine. Mangekyō.

"How?" Fugaku whispered, the question not louder than a breath of air. He gripped Itachi's arm tightly as though he feared his son would collapse without his support.

Looking at Itachi, the thought wasn't far-fetched.

Shikamaru's father was frozen, mesmerized by the lazily swirling spirals.

Both men were distracted. Itachi was reliving each and every sin his counterpart had committed, the memories as fresh and detailed as if he'd been the one to wield each kunai.

He'd carry the memory of slaughtering his own parents for the rest of his life.

Shikamaru bolted out of the room, using the distraction Itachi offered and hating himself for it.

A/N: Happy New Year! :D I hope you all had a lovely start into the year!

My betas are Igornerd, To Mockingbird and PyrothTenka! Go check them out, they're all wonderful writers!

Please let me know what you think!

~Gwen