Happy Valentine's Day!


Uchiha Mikoto, when she died, had been driving to pay respects to an elderly aunt. She had not just had another argument with her husband, brutal in its quiet finality. She had not been driving away with no intention of coming back, of going to Wakasu Park and perhaps flinging her marital ring into the ocean.

Uchiha Mikoto, when she died, had died a loving, devoted wife.

5

"She wouldn't have left," Sasuke says, the whites of his eyes a little too prominent, the clench of his hands to the left of too tight.

Itachi shakes his head at his little brother (always little—no matter that his otōto, surpassed him just in height long ago), wondering if he had meant their mother, or if he had meant his wife.

"She wasn't leaving you. If we hadn't been as old as we were, she would have brought us with her," Itachi moves past Sasuke to stand before the sea, his hand drifting casually across his brother's shoulder. The younger man nearly jerks, and Itachi takes his time looking at the waves breaking against the pier. He does not think his mother would have jumped; he had not lied when he said Mikoto would have never willingly left her sons.

(She'd said: Itachi-kun, family is the most important thing, but don't forget that you get to decide who counts.)

"Akatsuki has split into two factions, and Danzo has been furious about Fugaku's machinations for years. He thought striking at our mother was the right choice. He thought our father would care." The day was cloudy, and twilight had made even the shallow waters murky and dark. "No one knew the truth—"

"What does any of this have to do with Sakura?" Sasuke snarls, the cardstock crumpled in his hands."Our mother is dead, it's been years—"

"Our father has never stopped meddling."

Behind them, there are the occasional shouts of children and the anxious parents calling after them. In a very different time, long ago, his brother had been among them; loud and nearly idiotically fearless.

(The children, Itachi thinks, coupled with the public nature of the park, should curb the chances of surveillance or violent engagement.)

Sasuke himself had always been a fidgety child, scolded often by Fugaku for his failure to maintain the requisite Uchiha stillness. Gods, his father reminded them, do not fidget. He is still now, every line and angle rigid with tension; Itachi mentally applauds his brother.

"Haruno Sakura is still alive, they wouldn't kill her without demanding something of you or Fugaku first."

(Itachi had delivered the divorce papers, after all.)

There are no more words from his younger brother, he is already halfway across the green before Itachi finishes saying their father's name.

Sasuke is barely aware of making the drive back to the house. An angry buzz had started in his ears ever since meeting Itachi at the waterfront, and it'd only grown, insistent, crowing pay attention to me

Perhaps it's a miracle that he doesn't crash—Naruto would have attributed it to sheer force of will; or perhaps the other drivers had gotten a glimpse of Sasuke's face in their mirrors and wisely steered clear.

As it is, he nearly skids into the driveway, and then is forced to wait impatiently for Itachi anyways.

He wants to storm straight into Fugaku's office and demand an answer, he wants to punch the older man in the face; he wants the ringing to go away, and to stop imagining Sakura (whom he'd seen so recently, who had finally looked alive and herself) the way he'd seen his mother at the wake.

(Eyes sewn shut, and now he won't ever see that green again either; no soft light, no anger, no life; pale and waxy in the way that the skin of the dead has of stretching over bone.)

"Otōto," a tall shadow settles over him, and Sasuke starts, his breathing ragged, the buzzing in his ears finally receding as he realizes that he'd somehow missed Itachi arriving, or the hand now firmly clasped around his arm.

Sasuke shrugs it off with a wince, resisting the urge to rub at his forehead. "Let's go, we've already wasted enough time."

Itachi says nothing as he steps back, his face and posture insouciant once more. He dips his head towards the front door. Scowling, Sasuke leads the way.

Fugaku is in his office, and Sasuke makes no preambles, slamming open the closed doors and not stopping until he is in front of Fugaku's desk.

His father's gaze slides right past him to Itachi at his back, but Sasuke cuts him off before he can start, "The Akatsuki have Sakura—tell me everything."

To his credit, Fugaku doesn't even flinch. "I know nothing about that group of criminals. Wouldn't they be the purview of that one?" he spits the words like a mouthful of rancid meat. "How dare you bring him here. I should call SIT—"

"Aniki told me everything," Sasuke says through clenched teeth. "He's been made, and his other partner's gone offline. They have Sakura, and if you don't cooperate I'll tear this family apart from limb to limb."

No sound, no movement, just Itachi at his back as he stares at the man he'd called father.

Sasuke doesn't shift, he doesn't give an inch. After a long moment, Fugaku looks away, and begins.

You see, Fugaku had remembered what it was like to have the Uchiha name be synonymous with honor and prestige. The Uchiha were descended from the gods, and after Uchiha Fugaku finally found himself in the Prosecutor-General's office after fighting free from Madara's bequeathment of social ruin, he'd swung back at theAkatsuki with all the might of the Ministry of Justice behind him, consequences and pointed warnings from his colleagues be damned.

It didn't matter that Madara had been dead for decades—for Fugaku, this was retribution, rebirth, and redemption all in one.

The first warning was delivered after the second shipment his task force intercepted. One of his men had been caught and then returned alive, the Akatsuki insignia burnt into the flesh of his back.

Fugaku interrogated him to see if he'd been able to glean any useful information during the time he'd been captured, and then immediately started organizing the next raid.

The next man was returned without his right hand, but Fugaku's team had been unable to seize the cache of drugs being transported, and this was for the good of the country and the good of the clan, the Uchiha name—

There had been a Uchiha on the force that had worked on the case. Himari had been an inconsequential cousin, but she'd joined the TMPD, inspired by Fugaku's work as a prosecutor, and performed diligently until she'd been appointed to the unit.

Fugaku had been proud to see their name flourishing once more. Even prouder still, when Himari volunteered to attempt to pose as one of the buyers for Akatsuki's next drop.

The Uchiha are famed for their dark good looks, and most of all their striking black eyes.

Fugaku received Himari's in a polished sandalwood box.

He gave Uchiha Himari a ceremony deserving of a member of the main house, and then gathered the remaining men close to plan again.

Mikoto had begged him to reconsider, and Itachi, a newly minted member of SIT, had raised a rare voice as well, but Fugaku would not listen. It had to be done for the good of the family. What is the value of a life not lived with honor and prestige?

To the Akatsuki, Mikoto had been a valuable target. Surely, they'd thought, surely this would strike at the Uchiha patriarch's heart and force him to stop.

Fugaku persisted; he knew his wife would understand.

"I had no more direct contact after I left the Ministry of Justice. If they took that girl, I had nothing to do with it."

Sasuke stares at his father, at the sullen, defiant look on him.

When Fugaku had pushed Sasuke to follow his lead and make dismantling the Akatsuki a centerpiece of his platform, Sasuke had dutifully done so. His father had never told him the true reason behind cousin Himari's death.

His mother.

Sakura.

"I quit."

There is no room for interjection, and going by Fugaku's expression Sasuke knows he is aware of exactly what he means.

He turns and walks out of his father's office, leaving Fugaku to Itachi. Sasuke doesn't run, but it's a near thing—chased by his failures, chased by the memories of Sakura in these halls.

He waits until he's in his car again before pulling out his phone; Taka isn't a string that Sasuke wants to pull, but for Sakura, he would unravel all of them.

"Juugo...It's me."

"I need your help."

Itachi is finally able to make contact with his partner, but only because Uchiha Shisui is nearly dead when he's deposited at the door of their safehouse.

He'd gone missing when Sasuke was in middle school; Sasuke remembers that he and Itachii had been close.

There's no discernible reaction from his brother upon seeing Shisui's mangled body, but Sasuke had understood. Juugo had been close behind with Karin, and it's only by dint of her surgical skills and not-necessarily legal triage kit and equipment that Shisui survives. Sasuke would remember the deep, sticky redness that'd pooled under his body and the smell of burnt flesh for a long time.

(he refuses to allow the superimposition-he refuses to even consider the thought—)

"He won't be awake for a while," Kakashi murmurs.

Sasuke gives a curt nod, but his jaw is clenched so tightly that his temple aches with the pressure. Shisui would have been their best lead now that Itachi's cover is unsalvageable; Akatsuki had obviously not expected the man to live.

Kakashi had cleared a private hospital ward for Shisui, and the hallway is swarming with SIT agents, none of whom had been able to find out a single goddamn thing.

"We'll find them, Sasuke-kun," Karin murmurs as she tries to hand him a cup of coffee.

The honorific knifes through him—

(

Sasuke-kun, she'd said that day on the roof. Sasuke-kun, and the daylight had been so bright that he'd had to squint.

I love you

A single, perfect moment in the light.

)

Karin's pained gasp startles him, and Sasuke realizes he'd shoved her hand away with enough force that the coffee has spilled.

"Boss! I know you're pissed but hurting the help isn't gonna make us go any faster," Suigestu says as he pulls Karin away, ignoring the other woman's scowl and swatting hands. His tone had been breezy but Sasuke recognizes the rebuke. For his sake, Taka had agreed to cooperate with Kakashi's handpicked SIT team; Karin hadn't deserved his ire.

But no one had been able to find a fucking thing, the continuous buzz of people useless and claustrophobic, every second that ticks by valuable time lost (a stinging reminder that there is nothing more he can do).

Sasuke had called every contact and traded every favor, only to still turn up empty-handed.

He sits.

The ringing in his ear grows.

SIT does their best to comb through Fugaku's old files, but it's clear that Akatsuki has changed both their drop locations and their safehouses.

It has been a little over 24 hours.

"Sit rep?" Kakashi asks the agents that'd just returned.

"Murami tracked down an old tail but it could be a while before anything—"

"Uchiha Sasuke."

Tsunade enters the room without any ceremony, but the nurse and attending that'd been speaking with Karin scatter, and even though Kakashi technically could pull rank in the converted ward, it is still Tsunade's hospital.

And Sakura had been (is, is is is) Tsunade's protege and almost as good as her daughter.

"I'll find her."

If Sasuke had been a different man, he would have withered under Tsunade's glare.

"If it weren't for you and your family, she would have never been caught up in any of this—she would have finished her residency a year ago instead of coming back to me the way she did."

Sasuke does not brace himself against the force of Tsunade's disdain. Instead, he leans into it, meeting Tsunade's eyes, not bothering to hide a single thing.

"I'll find her," he repeats.

"Hey now," Kakashi interjects, holding up his hands in the universal gesture for peace. "We all care deeply about Sakura-chan and we're doing everything we can to find her. Has the rest of her team been interviewed?"

"Yes, not that it helped. But I'm here because of this." Tsunade thrusts her phone towards the two men, and Kakashi curses out loud when they see the headline.

Uchiha Bride Kidnapped-Manhunt ongoing, live updates

"Who the hell leaked this?" Kakashi snaps.

An agent quietly comes forward, expression grim and resigned to the slaughter, "Her parents, sir...They were tired of not getting any answers, thought it might help to contact the press."

Sasuke is still staring at the space where the phone had been. The ringing has now grown into a dull roar.

Because he had been a SIT agent once too, and Sasuke recalls with perfect clarity that you would never want the press involved in a case like this.

It meant you did not plan on acquiescing. It meant there'd be no reason to keep the victim alive.

"Sasuke...You have to prepare yourself."

It has been nearly 30 hours.

Sasuke refuses to leave the hospital, but Kakashi forces him to take a bed in an unused break room. It's cramped, two sets of bunk beds crammed into a space not much larger than the pantry in his house.

The general hum of the hospital is absent, the fluorescent light from the hall barely leaking through the crack under the door.

Here, the ringing in his ear finally stops. Here, the silence lays thick and heavy.

When the door closes behind him, Sasuke does not stagger to a bed or collapse in the chair by the half-window. Instead, he crumples. Not in a heap but in the little measured half-steps he manages to walk before his knees meet the worn out carpet.

He imagines he can feel the slight weight of her head on his shoulder, familiar from the countless number of times she has dozed off against him between classes or on long train rides. He imagines that when he opens his eyes, she will be there, framed by a blue summer sky.

But the darkness remains unchanged, the room an ordinary room, and this is still a world where she has every right to hate him—where he has failed her in every way.

Hunched over in the dark, Sasuke wants to scream his apologies, but all that emerges is a choked-off sob.

He has failed her.

He had failed her.

Sasuke cries.

Sasuke eventually sinks into a light doze, snapping awake every five or ten minutes, unwilling to let himself truly rest. The urge to be in the field himself is overwhelming, but he knows he'd only be a hindrance.

At around 2am, a small, squirrely man slams open the door, doubled-over and panting, "Sir! Sir—Uchiha Shisui has regained consciousness."

Sasuke doesn't wait, shoving the man aside in his haste to get back to the briefing room. The identical hospital hallways are a blur and he's half-blinded by the brightness of the light, but he manages to find the right way back. The agents that had been milling about when he left had grown into a swarm, and he can see Kakashi and Itachi standing by the single occupied bed through the open door.

"Where is she?"

Kakashi says, "We have an address."

Kakashi knows not to ask Sasuke to stay behind, but he'd drawn the line at letting him drive. Instead, Sasuke is relegated to the backseat of the nondescript undercover car, and he sits, every part of him utterly still, every part of him taut with tension.

The bulletproof vest underneath his shirt is a tight band of pressure around his chest, but it is a detached pain, relegated to the same place as the prick of his nails stabbing into the palms of his hands.

( please let him get there in time, please don't let him have to bury her—to say the funeral rites that a husband must because he'd never even signed the papers that she'd asked for;

ple-a-—-)

The outer wards of the city are still dark, and so is the car, gliding quietly from one street to the next. Sasuke catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror the next time they pass under a streetlight, and it is a stranger—sallow and bruised and hunted—that stares back at him.

He flexes his hands and imagines lunging forward and smashing the glass.

The beep of the GPS cuts through the silence, and Kakashi slowly pulls over on a nondescript street.

The white haired man makes a quick call to dispatch to let the rest of the unit know that they'd arrived. The static crackle of dispatch's response is intrusive and jarring in the previously silent car.

The door slides open, and Sasuke steps into the silvery glow of the nearly-full moon.

It is otherworldly; he could have been dreaming.

(When she had still been overseas and her days had been his nights, Sasuke used to live in the liminal hours of the morning.

because the story is ruthless—and in the story you always leave

No, he'd wanted to say to her face. No. I am not the one who leaves.

Sasuke is beginning to realize that it had never been about the leaving; it had been moving forward and letting go, but he had never let her. And now—-now look—)

Itachi comes to stand by him, the crunch of gravel under his shoes obscene, "Just a little longer."

There is nothing Sasuke can say to that. He knows they have to wait, knows that if Akatsuki realizes they've been found, Sakura would pay for it. He knows that this could have happened anyways.

But she is so close.

The seconds drag on, all three of the men listening intently for the arrival of the other TMPD vehicles, when suddenly:

A scream.

"Shit!"

The tight band in him shattering, Sasuke sprints towards the sound, the thud thud thud of their footsteps impossibly loud—

He has to get there in time he has to get there in time he has to—

Another scream, definitely feminine this time, as the plain building that'd been their target rises into view.

Sasuke pushes himself faster, and then:

— — — —

The ringing is back in his ears, and for a moment Sasuke does not understand why it is suddenly so bright or why there is the afterimage of a painful white flash burned into his eyes, but the rest of his body catches up, and the weight of his brother on top of him is exacerbating the deep ache of being thrown on the ground—

The building is on fire.

Sasuke struggles upright, and he realizes the burn in his throat is because he is yelling—

There are hands trying to hold him back, but he had not been a field agent for nothing, so he ignores the pain in his legs and his ribs and throws himself towards the flames—towards Sakura—

(Kakashi later tells him that it had been her name he'd yelled, and kept yelling, the loudest the older man had ever heard him. Her name: the only thing she'd wanted, the only thing he could have given her back.)

The fire is too hot, blazing high enough that it looks as if it will torch the moon. Sasuke's legs give out underneath him with barely twenty feet to go (still too far, still too late), and he does not get up.

tbc


note: Boy, are both my life and the world incredibly different since the last time we met. This was probably my least favorite chapter to write so far, and I 10000% wouldn't have been able to finish it without the incredibly kind reviews that you've all left (and boreum-dal's unwavering, unflagging support). I have some thoughts regarding the course this fic has taken and the plot points that 17yo me sketched out, but what's important is that we're nearing the end! For real this time. Thank you for sticking with me so far, and I hope you're all staying safe (wear a mask, always check your sources, engage in mutual aid, and as always: fuck racism).