(Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! If you're reading, please remember to review. Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters.)

And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 25: Reflections

The snow, unlike rain, was quiet as it fell to earth. It collected in Sasuke's dark locks, the perfect contrast to them. He had to keep blinking, in order to clear the snowflakes collecting in his eyelashes.

His shoes barely made a sound, collecting snow and packing it down under the treads. He sighed softly, and shouldered his book bag, trying to distract himself.

He really, really did not want to go to school today. He couldn't deal with the loud of it. He couldn't deal with the confines of it, with the chattering girls, with the boys showing off, with the teachers yakking on into oblivion.

He couldn't even fathom life in school without Naruto. The boy had been gone for a solid week now, with no clue as to where or when he went. Sasuke hadn't wanted to leave the confines of his room, not for the past seven days, and he certainly did not want to try school today.

In his room, he could just curl up and cry, or sleep, or contemplate. He could try and keep his mind blank, but at school, he would be forced to think, and thinking seemed to send his mind into dangerous territory. He would be damned if he cried in the middle of class.

Today, however, he needed to go to school, because he needed to find out what classes he had, with what teachers, and to get them changed if need be, and all that sort of crap. Today was the first day of the second semester.

It seemed like the start of a whole new era. Iruka was a miserable pit of worry and self-loathing. Kakashi was silent, and he seemed far away. Itachi and Orochimaru were still fighting, their war having lasted for far too long now. He had relatives, albeit relatives he didn't like, staying with him. Worst of all, Naruto was gone, as if he'd transferred schools in the middle of the year.

He sighed. He didn't like thinking about Naruto, because it brought back all these thoughts, about what had happened over the course of the past five months or so. It seemed like so much had happened in such little time, and now that he looked back on it, it almost made his head spin.

The worst thing he remembered was that. . .day, in the alley, with Gaara and. . .

The blood, the pain, and everything became painfully clear to him now. He wanted Naruto back, now, to help protect him from the world. He was stupid and scared in this world, because he couldn't deal with people, because all people had ever done was hurt him. Naruto had been hurt too, by people, and he just kept going back at them, with determination that was admirable.

He'd been hurt one too many times now though to put any trust, any faith in humans. They scared him, and he did not want to hurt like that again. His parents, and his family had betrayed him, Gaara had torn him to pieces, and now, Naruto had left him to fall apart again.

It hurt, not like a pain-hurt, like a twisted ankle, or broken arm, but more of a dull ache inside his chest that even painkillers couldn't seem to douse. He remembered, almost vividly now, feeling this way after his parents died.

All he had wanted to do was cry, to hide from the world forever, and to never let it hurt him again. He really was blind, though, because he had opened up, only to get hurt more than he had previously.

His hand, frozen by the wind, touched the icy metal of the door, pulling it open and letting him into the warmth of the school. He knocked the rapidly melting snow off his shoes, and walked farther into the hall, the door falling shut behind him.

He made his way into the music room, pushing open the door and shutting it behind him, almost silently. Iruka was at his desk, shuffling papers, the handouts for his home room class. Sasuke wondered if it was hard for a teacher, a person who had so many people, both good and bad, waltz through their life in the span of a few short months.

At least a teacher wasn't romantically involved with those dancers.

The brunet teacher looked up at last from his papers, seeing the silent boy making his way down the music room steps. "Ah, Sasuke, we don't have a practice this morning," he said, baffled by the dark-haired boy's appearance.

He glanced at the clock. It was only five to eight.

Sasuke sat down in one of the chairs, sighing heavily, staring at the boring patterns on the stained carpet. "I know," he mumbled, still unsure of why he was here, so early.

Iruka was hurt too, and didn't that just make the pain worse? They were both hurt, so they'd just moon over it for ages, and they'd never get over it. He sighed again, scuffing at the carpet with his shoes.

Iruka wanted to say something to him, but couldn't think of anything to say to the teenager that would at least be of some comfort. He was barely holding himself together, if only for Konohamaru's sake.

With nothing to say, Iruka returned to shuffling papers around. Sasuke sat, looking at the floor dejectedly, absorbed in his thoughts.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open and in walked Sakura, peering about cautiously, as the classroom was almost empty. "Good morning, Iruka," she called, softly, and almost far from cheerily.

She looked down and saw her former crush, Sasuke, sitting in the front of seats, the only other occupant of the room. With renewed vigour, she dashed down the steps and took a seat beside him, smiling brightly.

"Are you in this class too?" she asked him, practically beaming.

Her smile fell when he shook his head 'no'. She blinked in confusion. "No? Then why are you here?"

Sasuke and Iruka looked at each other, and then, Iruka cleared his throat, drawing Sakura's attention away from the other teenager. When the teacher too said nothing, Sakura narrowed her eyes in thought.

There was something fishy going on here. There was a secret and she was going to find out what it was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

She couldn't look him in the eye. She simply couldn't. She hadn't spoken to him since that night, and she was far too embarrassed about it to speak about it with him.

So, she looked at the ground, shuffling her feet every so often, just to make it look interesting. She clutched her binder tightly to her chest, as if it was a shield to save her from him.

Even talking to him, hearing his voice, made her flush with embarrassment. His voice had said some things to her that night, some things she would rather not hear again.

Listening to him made her remember that night, when she didn't want to remember it, because it was embarrassing.

"Hey, look at me."

Oh, no, she couldn't do that. She closed her eyes and shut her mouth tight, desperate to end the conversation.

"Eh? Oh, fine. Whatever."

He was walking away now, which was good, because she didn't have to talk to him any more, she didn't have to listen to him any more. She was so happy, because he was gone now, leaving her all alone to sort herself out.
But he was upset, and that was bad. He was angry, and that was never good, because he was vicious when he was angry, and she didn't want him to get into trouble.

She sighed, slumping down in front of her locker. Today was going to be a long day.

Hinata rested her head on her cheek, looking at the world on a slightly obscured angle.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Well, well. Wasn't this just lovely?

In all reality, it wasn't. It was probably going to be hell, for the next five months. Itachi almost felt sorry for the teacher, for once, because dealing with himself and Orochimaru within twenty-five feet of each other was not going to be a pleasant thing.

They hadn't spoken in days, let alone looked at each other. They were bitter toward each other, rude and their actions spoke louder than their words.

To seat them side by side was probably a fatal mistake for the teacher, as the end result would probably be that the two students murdered each other during one of his classes.

Ah, stupid teacher, it was his own fault anyways, for being stupid.

Orochimaru was glaring at him, sneakily of course, because Orochimaru was a sneaky bastard. Itachi sneered, but looked straight ahead, refusing to lock eyes with the older boy, because that was what he wanted.

Itachi wasn't about to play into what Orochimaru wanted him to do. He wasn't his bitch. And he'd proved so with his actions last week.

He almost shuddered in remembering that. It seemed so long ago, and now. . .so wrong, somehow. He supposed Gran really wasn't helping his mentality after what had happened. He still couldn't believe he'd been caught.

This was all so stupid. Stupid Orochimaru, he was still glaring at him. He was going to kick his ass if he kept looking at him that way.

Orochimaru was focussed on Itachi, though for other reasons. He was still mad at Itachi, yes, he was still going to murder Itachi, yes, but he simply felt that this was a stupid thing to be fighting about any longer.

They should simply get over it, and get on with their lives. They were either going to go their separate ways, or get back together. This feuding was doing nothing but holding them in the same place, keeping them tethered to each other when they wanted to be free of those chains.
He didn't know why he felt compelled to even try anymore. His last attempt had ended up with them yelling and screaming and breaking a lot of stuff, and avoiding each other ever after. It almost seemed pointless to try and stop this fight. They were pretty much severed as it was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The teacher called out the names on the attendance list, and there was one name he was dreading to hear. He was steeling himself to hear it, and it was torture as to whether or not he may hear it. He sat there, listening to the teacher's annoying nasal voice, waiting for that name to be called. What he was dreading more, was that there would be no answer.

The name was called, and, like a few others before it, was followed by a three second silence that seemed to span five minutes or more. Everyone glanced about a bit because, while Naruto was a loudmouth, a brat and a bit of a jerk, he had never missed his classes, unless he was sick.

Sasuke felt like crying. The silence was just a solid reminder that Naruto was gone.

Then, the teacher's voice filled that void, calling out another name, moving on. He should too, he should move on, call out another name, but he didn't want to find another name to say. He wanted to say Naruto's name over and over forever, and never say anything else.

He didn't want to let another person in, he didn't want to learn another name, he didn't want to say another name with the ringing affection he'd eventually managed to stuff into six letters of that name, in his own stunted way.

No, he didn't want to let go, get over it and move on. It was too painful, it was stupid to try and do that again. He wasn't masochistic and he wasn't stupid. Why would he willingly try and hurt himself again? Loving only meant hurting and now that he had been taught that harsh lesson twice, he was loathe to try and learn it again.

Unlike Naruto, he understood things, more quickly than others.

But it was human nature to be stupid and do stupid things. It was human nature to fall in love, to hurt themselves by being in love, and end up being alone. It was the never ending cycle of love and hurt, and no matter how much he didn't want to be a part of it, he was a part of it, because he was human, and thus, possessed human nature.

Ah, he was an idiot for not killing his emotions like he wanted to, when his parents had first died, when he had just wanted to be numb inside. He was an idiot for letting himself get caught up with Naruto.

All his thoughts were very dreary and depressing and the day he could see outside the classroom window wasn't helping much. The vaulting sky was grey and dull, the colour of his eyes. What a boring, dull colour.
He sighed heavily, letting his pencil absently scribble on a sheet of blank paper, tainting it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was in the early morning light that Naruto slipped into that death silent room, assured that he would not say anything, that he would not do anything.

Early morning light filtered through the curtains, but the room was still dark, bathed in the scent, the light of death.

He was supposed to be in school that morning, and he wanted to be. He wanted to go running in the school and hug Iruka and wave to all his friends, and tell them that he was okay, that he was safe and well and then, just get on with his life.

Life here had stopped.

The woman with the graying skin tossed and turned about, in the process of waking up. Her hair was limp and dull, scattered across her face. She looked as if she'd been bleached, with any vibrant colour washed out of her.

He watched her with dull, bored eyes. He felt slightly nostalgic, because she was older now, he was older now, and she was passing away, and he'd barely known her. But did that matter now, at the end of all things? She was his mother, but she had given him up. Did it matter to him now that she was dying?

Yes, and no. It mattered because she was his mother, his last blood relative on the face of this earth. There was not another Uzumaki, unless you counted the names on tombstones and bones in the bone yards. And no, it didn't matter, because he didn't know her anyways. She hadn't played mother to him long, and he couldn't care about her like a son should have.

She opened her eyes, just slightly, and they were just as dull and dead as the rest of her, washed out like the winter sky. She looked at him, and it seemed to him that she was in pain, just to be conscious, just to look at him like that.

It must have been miserable to live like that.

She didn't smile when she saw him, but narrowed her eyes, as if trying to think of who this was. Did she know him? Did she know the face of her own son, now grown and so distant from the child he'd been when she'd let him go?

No, she had to think, long and hard, and it hurt, obviously, from the pained expression she wore on her face. It almost hurt, to think that his own mother wouldn't remember him, but he hadn't remembered her either, so he supposed they were square.
"Naruto?" she said at last, placing a name to that face, her voice withered and frail, much like herself.

She sounded very tired, and very far away, as if she was no longer in this earthly realm. He looked at her, their eyes locking, vibrant blue meeting dead grey, and then he looked away, to the ground, the grey carpet, and mumbled, "Yeah."

She didn't move, because there was no rustling of the sheets, and she didn't say anything, because her voice, no matter how small and straining, he would have been able to sift from the silence that surrounded them now.

When he looked at her, she was smiling. She did nothing more, and it wasn't a large smile, but rather, a small, gentle lifting of her lips at the corners of her mouth. It was the most sincere smile he'd ever seen in his life and he bit back tears.

Did she still love him, even after what she'd done? Had she still loved him when she'd given him up, had she fought those emotions down to give him a better life?

He didn't know, and she wasn't going to tell him. He could tell that right now. Her eyes, her face said she was too tired to explain, and that she hadn't wanted to see him to justify herself in her eyes, to get his forgiveness.

She simply wanted to see him.

"I'm glad to see you," she whispered, in her feeble voice. "You look well."

He shuffled, jamming his hands into his pockets, and unsure of anything else to say, mumbled, "Yeah," and looked steadfastly at the floor.

It was safer than looking at her eyes, which held so much to say that would never be spoken between them, because she was too tired to tell and he was too displaced to listen.

So, silence was the way of things between them, which was strange, because Naruto was never one to be prone to silence. Silence bothered him, reminded him of the days, of the nights in the orphanage, when everyone else had gone to sleep, or gone away. Every time someone was adopted, the rest of the children were deathly silent for the rest of the day, curling in on themselves and thinking, 'Why couldn't that have been me? What did I do wrong?'

All that had been heard on those days was their breathing.

In and out, in and out.

Hers fell now in soft, irregular patterns, and he wondered what illness she had that caused her to breath that way. His own steady breath felt so strange, sounded odd in contrast to hers, though hers was the strange one.
It was a strange sort of nostalgia that filled the room right then. It was a moment, where he took the chance to look back on his life, and it was one of those moments where he wished everything could go back to the way it had been when he was small, sometimes, to a time period before he ever existed.

It was the same feeling that he got when summer changed to fall, a sort of, 'I wish it would last forever' sentiment, or the way he remembered his favourite sweater in the winter, on a hot summer day, when he wouldn't need it, but wanted it anyways, for the certain comfort it provided.

He didn't want this to last forever though. He didn't want to stand in that grey room, with that grey woman for the rest of eternity. He didn't want to stand there and watch her wither away, before his very eyes. Maybe this was more of a, 'Don't leave me,' kind of feeling. Maybe it was similar to how he felt when Iruka went away and left him at home, by himself, in the house alone, for a long time. Maybe it was like how he'd felt when all the children in the orphanage had slowly gone away and left him all alone.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be abandoned.

She was leaving him again, and somehow, it shouldn't have been this calm, and this forgiving. He should have wanted to hold her hand until her last breath, and hug her and say all the little things he had ever yearned to say to this woman, his mother.

But now, that part of him recoiled and died away, its ashes falling into the dusky recesses in the pit of his soul. She was dying, and nothing he could say would change that. It was better for him to keep detached, the way he had been until now. It was better for him to stay away, especially if he was only going to lose her again.

This was logic, cold, hard logic. Sentimentality meant nothing to him. He'd often heard of people being with the ones they loved until they drew their last breath, crying and saying things like, "I love you", or "I'm going to miss you". Where was the logic in it? It did not stop the person from dying, and it did nothing to heal the wound in the other person's heart. Sentimentality was stupid.

She was smiling at him still. If there was one thing he would remember, it would be this moment, this smile. She was smiling still.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Orochimaru was not at all surprised to see the students, both seniors and juniors gathered at the back of the building, all huddled tightly together, as if it made it less obvious as to what they were doing. Students had always done this, and they would continue to do so, as long as they considered it to be rebellious.
What did surprise him, however, was the sight of a black-haired boy with them. His back was to Orochimaru, but the serpentine boy knew by instinct who it was. Or thought he did. At first glance, the boy looked like Itachi, startling close, but then, with the classic double-take, one discerned that it was Sasuke.

Orochimaru wouldn't have been half as surprised if it had been Itachi, because he at least knew that the elder Uchiha had been dabbling in drugs before now. But Sasuke was something completely unexpected.

All right, maybe not entirely unexpected. Obviously, the boy was not mentally stable (Orochimaru often questioned whether either of them were), and he had obviously not recovered from the loss of his parents.

Orochimaru practically grinned. He knew it sounded cruel, even to himself, but now that Sasuke was doing something like this, perhaps he could use it to his advantage. Itachi cared about his brother more than he led everyone to believe. Perhaps he wouldn't object to working with Orochimaru on trying to get Sasuke out of the habit, if he was even in the habit, so to speak.

And that would be the only pitfall the plan had. If Sasuke wasn't actually doing what he thought he was doing, and he told Itachi that he was, anything he had Itachi had left would crumble to pieces. Well, more pieces than there already were.

This was not him being desperate. It might have appeared so, because Itachi was seemingly convinced they were through and he was subtly, yet persistently trying to get back together with the younger boy. He was acting simply out of the best interest for them both. If they got back together, they could put this entire mess behind them. If they broke apart completely, they could put this entire mess behind them. The truth behind the appearances was that they both had lingering insecurities about breaking up and lingering emotions on the subject.

He purposely slowed his pace, strolling now, leisurely away from the school, watching them out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to make it too obvious that he was watching them, because they might either try and pick a fight, or scatter, thinking he was in association with the cops. . .or something.

They were eyeing him now, they had seen him. They were wary of him. He sped up a bit, now that he'd been spotted. They knew he was watching, and they knew he was there. There was no point in being discreet any longer.

He glanced back when they'd diverted their attention. Sasuke was on his hands and knees, throwing up. Orochimaru winced.

Well, at least that was confirmed. Itachi would at least have to talk to Sasuke about drugs now, for certain. Iitachi was the only parental figure that Sasuke had, and while he may not have cared too tremendously much that Sasuke was using substances like that, he might have cared a bit.
He could only hope.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Ino glanced up from her workbook, to glare at Sakura. The pink-haired girl was sitting on her bed, her hair wrapped up in a towel, the bottle of nail polish beside her, the brush held in her hand. Sakura was supposed to be helping her, but instead, the girl was helping herself to all of Ino's beauty supplies.

"Mmhmm," the older girl mused, looking at the wet polish on her nails, as it flashed in the light. "Something's up."

Ino looked over the edge of her workbook at the other girl, her glare softened by the prospect of good gossip. They'd gone nearly a week without school, and thus, without good gossip. Besides, Ino had to keep her title as Gossip Queen intact for this semester. The sooner she started, the better.

"What's up?" the blonde asked, slowly putting down her notes.

Sakura continued to look at her nails, as if they held all the secrets of life, before she finally looked at Ino, and said, "Yes, something's up. I'm just not sure what."

Ino's glare was back in full force. "What are you blathering about?"

Sometimes, she swore up and down that Sakura should have been the blonde one.

Sakura smiled. "Now, Ino! I know what I'm talking about! There's something going on, and it involves one Uchiha Sasuke!"

Ino perked up almost instantly. Any gossip involving Sasuke would guarantee her position as gossip queen. Although most of the students, and teachers for that matter, knew what was going on with the youngest Uchiha, some of the girls still swooned over him, and he was still amazingly popular.

Sakura smiled devilishly, revealing that she had something utterly juicy to tell. Ino grinned back, just waiting for her pink-haired love to tell her what was so intriguing about Uchiha now.

Sakura was still smiling eerily. She waggled a finger in Ino's face. "Ah, if I tell you, will you give me a reward, Ino-dear?"

The blonde girl looked slightly startled at Sakura's demand, or even, if she dared, insinuation. At last, she nodded affirmatively and waited for Sakura to spill the beans.

"He was sitting in the music room today."
Ino looked at her skeptically. From that first line, she was guessing that this wasn't the best gossip in the world.

"He was utterly miserable," Sakura crowed, sounding nearly triumphant.

Ino was nearly shocked. A few weeks ago, Sakura would have been mourning because Sasuke was upset. Hell, Sakura would have been inconsolable over Sasuke's problem. It was just the way she was.

"I think it has something to do with Naruto being gone."

Ino looked quizzically at her. "Naruto's gone?" she asked quietly, not entirely sure what the older girl meant.

Sakura nodded vigorously. "Gone," she repeated, as if the word clarified everything. "He wasn't at school today."

Well, Ino thought wryly, that did not clear up her confusion one bit. Could Uzumaki be dead? Or had he left the city, or something along that line? She had no clue, and apparently, Sakura didn't have a clue either.

"Go on," she murmured, seemingly thoroughly bored with the story.

"Sasuke's single," Sakura concluded, and Ino perked up considerably.

Sasuke? Single, again? Oh, this was excellent gossip now. There was some scandal involving Naruto and now, Sasuke was single! Whoever should console the poor boy? She could imagine that now, the swarms of Sasuke's ever-hopeful fans trying to help the boy cope with the loss he'd just suffered.

Sakura sprawled out across her bed. "Now, Ino. What about that reward?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Uchiha Sasuke stumbled home, the now dark world blurring in and out of focus. He felt sick, even more so now that the high was receding. The street lights seemed like stars, throwing an orange glow over the nighttime streets.

How long had he been out? Gods, how long had he been out of it? He'd thought maybe it might be. . .

What had he thought it would be? Nice, yeah, that was it. Nice, compared to the torment of his mental state, the anguish of his emotional self. Not so. Not so at all. His emotions, his thoughts were all fucked up, and so the drugs made him more so.
Had he been hallucinating? Duh, of course. But that came down to the real question behind that question: Where did the hallucination end and reality begin?

Blood, there had been lots and lots of blood. And the snow whirling about like fireflies, and then, they were screaming little sprites, tearing at his hair, his clothes and he couldn't get them of. They tore and spat and kicked at him, and their voices - squealing!

He'd been sick, he'd thought. He couldn't remember if he had been now, but he knew that right now, there was that distinct possibility. His eyes throbbed in their sockets. He swore he could feel his temples pulsing.

Why the hell was it so cold out here! Where the hell were his gloves, his coat? All he had was his t-shirt - stupid! He could have at least worn long sleeves - and his pants, the shoes on his feet keeping the cold from snaking up into his body.

He remembered now, through the haze of after, that he'd realized something, had some radical revelation while he was high, while he'd been gone. But now, he'd forgotten it. Blood, and everything had been very, very confusing, made even more confused by his muddled mental state.

So, he did what he could do, stumbling home through the snow.

He did his best to forget the bad, find the good, and brace himself for next time.

He would drown out these feelings yet.

- - - - - - - - - -

Naruto stood outside the door, listening to the soft voices inside. They were not half as upset, nor as frantic as he had thought they should be, but maybe he had watched one too many cheesy family drama movies.

He stood there, for a long, long time, contemplating on what it meant to have your mother die a second death.

The first death of his mother had occurred when she had abandoned him. She had left him to fend for himself, and without guidance in this world, and in doing so, had killed herself. She was no longer an active force in his life. She was nothing but a memory, and memories were dead creatures.

Now, she had died, truly and physically, and this was, in his eyes, her second death. She had died once already, and he had already grieved and moved on. He had moved on without her in his life, as someone does when they lose someone, and become a stronger person.

So, what did he do with a second death? He could not grieve anymore, because she had been dead to him thirteen years ago.

At long last, the door to that room opened and Gaara walked out. He seemed no more displaced than usual, though just before he shut the door, Naruto noted the room smelled of death, and the curtains had been drawn, giving the room the appearance to match that scent.

Gaara glanced at him sideways, a glance that would often be used to belittle people, Naruto supposed. The green-eyed boy, his half-brother, looked at him, his mouth set in a grim, straight line.

"We'll take you home now," Gaara said, and Naruto looked up at him.

There was no grief, no despair in Gaara's voice, only calm composure. That scared Naruto a little. Though, he supposed that he was much in the same boat as Gaara, as far as grieving was concerned.

He nodded slightly.

Going home. What exactly did that mean? He would go back to Iruka, he would go back to school, he would go back to his house, his friends, his teachers, his routine and -

His Sasuke.

But what had changed while he was gone? He had changed, he knew, even if slightly. Even if this change was only temporary, he knew it had occurred. And if he had changed, who else had changed?

Had Sasuke changed?

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Itachi glanced up from his homework, glaring at the intruder. Who would dare invade his sanctuary?

His glare increased tenfold as he noted who the intruder was. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Orochimaru, and he doubted he ever would be again.

Too bad for him, apparently, because the older boy had just invaded his room, and shut and locked the door behind him. Itachi grit his teeth. It was obvious that Orochimaru wanted to talk, and at this point, conversing was practically useless.

"What?" he barked, ignoring any formalities he should have regarded.

Orochimaru said nothing, but walked over to the bed, the sound of his footsteps ringing through the room. Itachi watched him, like a hawk, eyes narrowed and focussed solely on him.
After a terse moment or two, the Uchiha put down his pen, signifying he would listen to what the other had to say. Orochimaru watched the action with subdued humour. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to read the boy this way. Hell, he hadn't been able to at first, but Itachi. . .

Itachi was written in hieroglyphics, and it had been a fun puzzle to try and figure out what each symbol meant.

"I've got some news regarding Sasuke. As his guardian, I figured you should know."

Itachi said nothing, but the look on his face said he didn't care what Orochimaru thought, but he obviously cared what Sasuke was doing now.

Oh, he was doing something all right. As always, Orochimaru decided to play up the drama of the moment, as best he could. He padded slowly across the room, sidling up to the younger boy, then cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Drugs," he practically purred, only to be slapped away by an irritated weasel.

"This is about Sasuke, not about you and I," Itachi informed him, as if the clarity of the situation hadn't existed.

Just as Itachi needed to be read, Orochimaru did need the same treatment sometimes, and Itachi could read into the older boy's motives all too easily. It was little wonder they called him a genius.

Ever cryptic, Itachi's previous statement seemed to have no merit as he pulled Orochimaru's face closer to his own, his eyes boring into the older boy's. "Now, what do you know?" he said, his voice a notch above whispering, his tone taking on the quality of someone who was out of breath.

Orochimaru smirked.

- - - - - - - -