A/N- The previous day of the last chapter and I'll be uploading the second part later this week.

Hinata's dead father possessed a cabin a little way outside of Konoha. When Hinata unveiled the details of this haven, he doubted that they'd be able to make the journey without attracting attention but what other options did they have?

Their destination was five towns away and he had seen way too many public television's displaying Sakura's face. People were holding vigils, recounting old stories about her in middle and high school. Teachers commenting on her beauty and how bright of a future she might have had if the life hadn't been snuffed out of her. Old flames and friends standing teary-eyed and devastated in front of a camera as the interviewer blabbered on and on about the tragedy.

Naruto cackled around a styrofoam of cheap gas station coffee. Hinata stood beside him, warily watching the news on the tv that hovered over the cashier station. He examined her face and enjoyed the idea of her wearing his clothes—or his clothes wearing her. His navy-blue hoodie slung off her shoulders and hid her fingers and knees. After trying to fit her into a pair of his jeans he suggested that she wear the hoodie as a dress instead.

This Hinata didn't like the idea, nor him—but saved time by not putting up a fuss about it, which seemed miraculous since all they had done was snarl at one another.

He didn't like her either, for the record.

The cashier resurfaced from the backroom with a TracFone, and Midol pills confined within a blister pack. He gave his wrist a little shake to indicate his findings.

"Sorry about that Miss, we usually have them shelved."

Bitchy Hinata harrumphed, "It's fine, my boyfriend will pay."

Boyfriend.

He couldn't believe that Hinata could possess that contemptuous of a tone but there it was, it was almost like it hadn't been her voice at all. The overall sound was husk and self-assured and that wasn't the psycho he was accustomed to.

He fished his wallet out of his pocket just as a familiar voice blared from the T.V.

"He's a coward..."

He hazards a look up and spotted Ino standing in front of the school campus. Her eyes were big and puffy, she rocked gently from side to side, as Sai towered beside her with an arm slung over her shoulder. He stared down at his feet, avoiding the camera being shoved down his face.

"Can you think of any reason why Sakura Haruno might have been targeted?" The interviewer persisted in an overly concerned but urgent voice.

Ino peered straight into the camera with her blood shot eyes, and shook her head, "I can't fathom why a monster like Menma would kill my best friend. She was kind, bold and beautiful. She was so young, and she didn't deserve to go out this way."

The cashier seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in the interview as well. Leaning against the counter as he tossed down their supplies.

"Dang, life is so short." He comments, shaking his head grimly, "Poor kid, the times are gettin' crazy."

Naruto tossed down a few won, "You can say that again."

They traveled mostly under the cover of night, and he tried as much as possible to minimize their interactions.

During the day they hid in the trees, wherever they could find deep woodsy cover. The cops were desperately active and combing the entire city for him. They seemed significantly dedicated to rescuing the young girl he had kidnapped—after decapitating her loving uncle and stowing him under the kitchen sank in a trash bag.

Add that to burning down a house to hide a body riddled with bullets inside and a high school ex-girlfriend strangled to death in her best friend's dorm room.

He could understand why they'd send out the calvary. They were desperate and he was notorious for getting away.

The Audi wasn't built to wander off-road but desperate times. He'd thread the vehicle carefully through the rough terrain, the deep ditches and find the dense part of the woods. The moment he found a shaded spot he'd park and cut the engine.

"I need a minute." BitchHinata would say, trying to escape the uncomfortable space within the car.

"Good, idea, I'll keep an eye on you." He retorts.

She frowns at him, her brows rolled into a deep crease, "I can take care of myself."

"You have nothing to prove to me, remember, I watched you spray a guy nine times. And you killed your dear old uncle so there's that."

"You're one to talk," she snarled, "Besides, that wasn't my call, I-"

"Oh yeah, this Hotto" Naruto air quotes doubtfully around the name 'Hotto'. He slouches back in his chair, peering out the windshield, "Another personality, a murderous one. Why don't you let her out, so we can chat?"

BitchHinata rolled her eyes, "Because it doesn't fucking work that way."

Of course not.

"Then how does it work?" He asks, shifting over to turn his full gaze and attention to her. BitchHinata differed severely from his bunny. She doesn't shrink away from his gaze, she matched it with a look of grave annoyance. She always had her arms crossed over her chest as if trying to project some kind of no-nonsense bank accountant. And lastly, she listened to absolutely nothing that he said.

"That's none of your business. I'm not some fucking toy."

She opened the door and got out, slamming it behind her.

He watched her retreat from the car, with her arms crossed. Long black ponytail swishing from side to side as she struts through the woods.

"Snooty little bitch" he breathed, watching her, listening to the intensity of his heart thrashing through his ears.

She riled him up, like no one he's ever known and because of that—he stayed in the damn car. The way she looked at him, through Hinata's eyes, it made him feel impossibly small and guilty. It also made a type of anger flair up in him, a type of rage he could hardly control.

Everything felt so conflicting because all he wanted to do was hurt her and yet, he'd be hurting a part of her that he cared about. No matter which personality held the reigns, they all held the face of his bunny.

And he refused to join the roster of people who had contributed to her pain. He promised he wouldn't be that way.

He had been so withdrawn he hadn't registered that the door had opened. Hinata slipped into the passenger seat—pulling the seatbelt over her chest. She was hunched, no ponytail and her cheeks were tinted in a passionate peach. She licked her lips and slowly turned to face him.

The look in her eyes spoke volumes and he read every word.

"Y-you came back…f—for me?"

She was speaking from before when he returned to his old home to save her. He wasn't quite sure how these switches happened or what triggered them, he does know that his bunny wouldn't have any knowledge of what BitchHinata knew, she seemed to be on a frequency of her own.

They weren't the same, so unless they shared information in their space—she wouldn't know about killing Sasuke and he wouldn't tell her. Afterall, it had been the same when her uncle died, the day she had shown up on his doorstep, she seemed to have no recollection of all her absences.

Those bruises on her face that day were new, they hadn't been from Sakura's goons.

"Ah, let's not get carried away…" he teased, scratching at the back of his head, though he watched her eyes light up.

The sound in his chest seemed to trudge slower and grow louder. He watched her lips quirk up in their sad but content way and then tremble. Water seemed to welt up in her eyes as she asked, "S-sasuke—?"

"Gone, forever."

She turned her head to peer out the windshield, her hands fisted the material of the hoodie on her knee. Her body shook and she just sat there crying. It started off soft, like a secret she tried to keep buried deep inside but as time progressed her body couldn't contain it.

He wondered if she felt relief, safe, better. When he looked over to ask, she was unbuckling her seatbelt.

His eyes roved over her face quickly, worried that another switch had occurred.

Foamy white eyes peered into blue ones, and she swallowed hard.

"C-can I…" he watched her squirm uncomfortably and breathe heavily—shakily, "m-m-may I hug you."

It seemed a bizarre question. Most girls just went for it, most girls never needed to ask him. But sitting there in that seat, he couldn't recall a time where the hug was mutual, other than his mother—most of his hugs were from his victims.

They never felt real. They were only actions behind deceit. The hugs gave security, gave softness and painted him the way he wanted his victims to see him.

Wordlessly, he flicked his fingers to motion her over and she came to him—hesitantly. Her arms slid gently over his shoulders, encircling him.

She melted against him like butter, tucking her head beneath his chin, shuddering like a wet kitten against him.

So hot and inviting, "Thank you, Naruto-kun." She whispered against his ear. Her hot breath enticed him, sending tantalizing pulsations skittering down his back. He felt his arm fasten around her waist and before he knew it, he pulled her into the seat with him and everything got fucking complicated.