Heaven has appointed us dwellers on earth a time for all things.

The next night was as cold as the last.

Kisame poked absentmindedly at the little fire they'd made, sparks flying this way and that with each press. A nearby river, wide and rocky, roared its white noise symphony all around them, the volume of it sucking away the sigh that left Sakura's mouth as she lie back on the grass. Her feet ached, so sore it shot up through her calves and into her thighs. To fully restore her chakra reserves she couldn't risk sparing too much to fight the fatigue, so it was nothing short of a blessing to finally have a break on their way to wherever-the-hell it was that Pein wanted them to go.

The day had passed without a word from any of the three of them, the tension unbearable. Presently Itachi sat away from their meadow camp, alone with his back against a willow tree of impressive stature. She did not want to stare, but found herself glancing over at him more than a few times.

Kisame had volunteered to take watch, his tenacity and endurance the best of the three of them. Typically on his nights he would insist they get sleep—how could he have confidence in his team if they were not well rested?—but he was quiet, likely feeling the extents of his exhaustion, too, and the effects of Itachi and Sakura's strained silence. When he got to his knees with a soft grunt, Sakura rolled her head to watch him.

"I'd like to keep my watch from the river." Though he'd phrased it as if it were a request, she knew he was not asking. He disrobed with no shame per usual, pulling off his shirt and pants to let them drop into a haphazard pile on the ground next to his sword. Sparing one last glance down at her, he nodded once towards Itachi before walking off and disappearing into the darkness.

If he's trying to get us to go talk to him, Inner sighed, he can forget it.

And as much as Sakura agreed—Itachi's bad mood wasn't her fault, after all—she couldn't pretend she didn't care. Ever since that day with Gaara and Team 7, a day she hadn't even yet been able to celebrate despite her incredible victory, his mood had been dragging down hers, too. Even Kisame, who was usually so unbothered, was more downcast than usual.

She sighed, getting to her feet. She just had to go and "make friends of monsters," didn't she? If someone she lovingly called aniki wanted her to go talk to their moody teammate, she would do it. Of course she would.

Especially if Itachi was yet another monster who'd become her friend, and...more than that.

Despite her aches, she slowly heaved back up to her feet. She reached the tree, where he sat nestled between a cluster of its roots. Pushing past the thick curtain of tendrils, the earthy scent of it all filled her lungs, something in her very soul reacting to the rich smells of the bark and soil. She knelt, sitting cross-legged directly across from him. His body language was closed off, his hands in his lap with his legs bent, his head resting partly on his knees and partly on the sturdy trunk of the tree. He did not look at her even as she held out her hand and placed it gently atop his knee.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you this morning," she tried. "And...thanks for saving my ass with my own sword."

He did not speak, but he did shift slightly.

"Aniki's keeping watch while he swims, but I was wondering..." His eyes flickered to hers for just a moment, but it was enough. "Did you kill Orochimaru?"

Such a question couldn't be avoided without Itachi seeming insensitive, and he raised his head to address her in his matter-of-fact way. "Not completely. In time, if the circumstances necessitate it, I will."

What the fuck does that mean?

She'd been hoping for a simple yes or no answer, but of course there had to be layers upon layers of complication with anything to do with these Uchiha bastards. So being direct about it really was the only way, wasn't it? She sighed, dropping her hand from his.

"I know it's not easy, but...I really wish you would just talk to me," she said, watching him expectantly. "You know I have complicated feelings about your brother and Konoha, too."

A low hum, dismissive. "It is not your place to understand."

No more cryptic answers!

She frowned, sitting forward on her hands. "I want to under—"

He reached out then, taking hold of her hands and raising them in the space between their bodies. The suddenness of the gesture shocked her to silence while he studied her face, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She fought a shiver, both at his cold skin and the small pleasure from his touch, until finally he spoke again.

"Your concern," he said softly, a sad smile ghosting over his face, "is as much as comfort as it's always been. But please trust me that I mean what I say: it is nothing in which you need be involved."

She considered as best she could. "Okay, say I don't get involved in the circumstance—will you at least still talk to me about the feeling?"

He was quiet once more, their fingers still entwined. Somewhere in the distance she heard a splash, evidence of Kisame enjoying his swim in the river's heavy current. She wondered if she should give up hope of ever knowing Itachi wholly, for how deeply he shut himself off after one single confrontation.

"My little brother loathes me," he finally answered, "and my eyes are failing me."

She stared, confused. She dared not pry about Sasuke, focusing instead on his comment about his sight. That made no sense, did it? She had healed plenty of their ailments, monitored their health for over a year, his own mystery illness included. What more was this?

"I can work on them—"

"No," he said with urgency. "It is the price every Uchiha must pay if they want to use the Sharingan's power to such lengths."

"How bad is it? Can you...see me here?" She bit at the inside of her cheek. Was he punishing himself for something?

He laughed once, just a small thing through his nose, but it was enough to marginally ease the anxious grip on her heart. "I can see you."

In an attempt to bolster his tiny shift in mood, she held up three of her fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"That I cannot see."

She was trying to be lighthearted, but now she nearly swore. "Really?"

He hummed, her heart sinking back into its heaviness. Would he really not let her heal him? Optical surgery was intense, sure, but nothing she hadn't done back at Orochimaru's estate. "So you can see me, but am I just a blob?"

"A very concerned blob."

She hung her head with a sigh.

"But," he began quietly, "I can see the glint of the moonlight in your eyes." He reached out his hand to touch her newly-flushed face. "I can see the glow of it in your hair."

She searched his features, looking as deep into his black eyes as she could. In a whisper she asked of him, "What else can you see?"

He bent closer, trailing his thumb across her lips. "Your mouth," he whispered. "That has kissed every inch of me."

But that had all been in the realm of his Tsukuyomi. A small cry escaped her, too ashamed to hold his gaze any longer. "I wouldn't have—you used your Sharingan so much for me. If I'd known—I...we didn't have to do that."

"That was..." He thought for a moment, glancing away in his shyness. "You know I am a lonely person."

"Yes."

"But even this"—he shrugged his shoulders to gesture to the space between them—"is difficult. You were right that I have no talent in navigating reality. The world of my own making is...so much simpler."

So it had been partly for his own benefit that they would sneak away there into his mind. She wondered then if the things she felt for him (and hoped he felt for her) could even be considered real, for how objectively fake they'd been, existing only in limbo. Did his body, his real one, look the same as the one she'd explored in so many ways? Would his pleasured sounds be the same ones? Would he still look down at her with those piercing eyes?

"Do you...want to try?" she asked, feeling her blush deepen. "In reality?"

"Yes," he said readily, his forehead coming to rest against hers. She could feel the heat of her yin seals against his cold skin, and she shivered to be so close. "But...we are outside."

She couldn't help her grin, his careful attention to her preferences warming her inside and out. "I don't care, if it's with you."

It was he who dipped his head first, a passionate kiss that nearly made Sakura's heart stop. He brought his other hand to her face, caressing her and tugging at the back of her neck as if the two of them could fuse into one. She angled her head, deepening their access to each other. When she pushed, he pushed back, and soon she found herself on her back and threading her hands through his long hair.

Even in the dark of night and beneath the shade of the ancient tree, when he pulled away to look down at her, she could see the thick blush across his gentle features. How was it possible for him to have been more handsome in real life than he was in a should-be perfect reconstruction?

He was trembling slightly, his long cloak draped over his shoulders and billowing around her, creating a small pocket of warmth around them. He bent down once more, pressing his lips against her jawline and down the exposed sliver of her throat, just above where her collar was fastened shut.

"Is it all right," he murmured there, his slender fingers expertly unbuttoning the plain frogs, "if I leave a mark?"

Her tunic fell open, exposing her torso to the open air. Before she could even voice her permission his lips returned to her neck, and there at her collarbone he sunk his teeth into her flesh. A desire, hot and electric, shot through her like wildfire, her hips rolling without her command. She could feel his tongue passing over the small, swelling indents of his teeth, and when she moaned his name—those three short syllables—he let out a strained, curt sigh through his nose.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He shut his eyes. "I...don't know what makes you think that I am worth this."

In her heart something clicked, shifting into an understanding that required this final piece of knowledge he'd just laid at her feet. Over a year ago, when she'd failed to save Han and Itachi had saved her life instead...

I know you want me to be afraid, Inner had said to him in warning. But she knew now that had only been a half-truth, part of that voidlike shadow in which he kept himself shrouded. By being feared, he could in the same breath explain away his loneliness and pretend he did not feel it.

"I know you want me to love you," Sakura breathed then, the words nearly catching in her throat. It was a staggering thing to say aloud, shocking in its boldness.

Above her he was very still, their noses brushing. Into space between their mouths he said, "I am not for loving."

The slightest press of their parted lips. "It's too late for that."

There beneath the willow tree, Sakura learned much. To be with Itachi here, outside of the Tsukuyomi, was both completely the same and wholly different. She took the collar of his open cloak, tugging it to pull him closer to her just as his hair loosened and fell free of its band, his inky fringe and locks spilling over his shoulder.

He looked so much older, so much more mature with it down that she let out a small gasp. But there above her, his silhouette reminded her so much of a long bygone memory, a fever-driven vision she'd thought hadn't been real: that man looming in the doorway of Orochimaru's lab, as her blood first accepted the injection of Senjuu Hashirama's genetic material.

"You're beautiful," Itachi murmured then, snapping her from the vision. He planted kisses along her chin and her jaw.

"So are you," she said with a light laugh, one that quickly dissolved into more quiet moans But he paused, pulling back much too quickly.

"You are anxious," he observed.

That he could tell such a thing without her saying it nearly made her roll her eyes. Was there nothing Itachi wasn't good at? "It's nothing."

"Was it something I've done?"

She laughed then, the look of concern on his face surprisingly cute. "It's not your fault; I just got distracted. I guess guaranteed, um...focus is just another strong suit of the Sharingan."

He trailed the back of his hand along her face, regarding her seriously.

"Do you remember what I told you last year, when we sat together on a dock in the night?"

"You said a few things."

He hummed, the playful look on his face achingly handsome. "There is little of my life you would take as fact if the believable aspects leave you speechless." He leaned down into her ear, taking the outer ridge of it between his teeth. "Here is something to consider: I have never before lost in battle."

Combined with his actions, his words made her shiver. The spark of her yearning reignited, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping too loudly. Kisame was still in the vicinity, after all—though she was beginning to suspect he'd given them their privacy for this very reason.

"So this is a battle, is it?" she teased as well as she could, throwing her head back as he sucked at her neck. Undoubtedly she would have her fair share of hickeys to heal in the morning.

"Of sorts," he murmured happily. "I insist on your pleasure, if you'll have me."

For two people who had not known sleep in four days, that night did not involve very much in the way of rest.