Thank you so much for sticking with this story! Apologies that it's a little late, but a few extra scenes essentially inserted themselves at the beginning, and once I got into the meat of the chapter, I realized that it was longer than I wanted. As a result, you get this chapter, and the knowledge that half of the next chapter is already finished! Hope that you enjoy.

"I said it was a dream, and he agreed, But said it was the desert's dream not his. And he told me that in a year or so, when he had aged enough for any man, then he would walk into the wind…" Neil Gaiman, Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fiction and Illusions

He found himself back in the forest. The dappled light streamed through the canopy above his head, casting everything with a faint green undertone. He breathed deeply, appreciating the smell of damp soil and composting leaves and let his mind drift, only startling for a moment when a chittering squirrel raced past him through the underbrush. His body relaxed one muscle at a time, comfortably sprawled on his back while he traced the clouds that slowly swam through the small windows of sky above him.

After so many days away, he couldn't help but feel an aching nostalgia in his heart.

"Shikamaru"

He turned his head, ignorant of the scene warping on the edge of his periphery, as his attention turned and focused on the voice that he had willed himself to forget.

"Asuma"

He wanted to leap to his feet, to race to his side and embrace him, to ask him how he had survived all of these years. Instead, his body lazily turned away, remaining relaxed and wholly indifferent to the burning energy in his mind.

It had been a very long time since he had last experienced a shared memory and he had nearly forgotten what it was like.

The wizard lazily approached and settled himself to the side, taking out a tobacco pipe once he was comfortable. Shikamaru watched him pack the leaves from the corner of his eye and let out a heavy breath when the man pulled on the chain around his neck, grabbing the small, familiar amulet that emerged from under his shirt.

"I thought that your dad told you not to use the talisman for stuff like that."

He shot Shikamaru a wry grin and flicked his thumb along the side of the pendant, summoning a small flame. "I won't tell him if you don't." He puffed a few times through the pipe, then tucked the trinket back inside of his shirt, using one of his arms to prop himself up from the ground.

Shikamaru merely snorted in response, refocusing on the patchwork of light and shadow above him. "I won't tell him, but don't complain to me when Inoichi reads your mind and rats you out."

Asuma chuckled. "Fair enough." The two once again fell into a comfortable silence, and Shikamaru felt his eyelids slowly grow heavier.

"Do you ever feel like there should be more?"

Shikamaru felt a stab of irritation at being disturbed when he was just about to fall asleep, but considered the question anyway. "More to what?"

"To this," Asuma gestured vaguely around them, "to life." He drew deeply at the pipe in his mouth and let out the smoke in a breath that sounded more like a sigh. "Everyone just keeps telling me about our history and traditions and how we're destined to follow 'in the footsteps of our ancestors'" his voice took on a gruff tone that Shikamaru recognized to be an impression of his father. "But it's all focused here, on the forest. What about the rest of the world? I guess it just feels like there should be… more."

Shikamaru considered the question for a moment and then did his best to shrug while reclined on the ground. "Well, considering the circumstances, it isn't like we have much choice in the matter. Besides, if there is more to this, then we have plenty of time to figure it out." Shikamaru saw an unfamiliar emotion flicker across the man's face, so he continued watching, waiting to see how he would respond.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

The Shikamaru from his past seemed content with the response, finally letting his eyes slide close to sleep. As he lost consciousness, the scene began to slip away, and the Shikamaru of the present felt his anguish return.

Not only because he was once again losing the familiarity of his home and his friend, but because he had learned enough in life to recognize the emotion that he saw shining in Asuma's eyes in a way that he hadn't when it had occurred all of those years ago.

It was resignation.

When he opened his eyes again, he was unsurprised to find himself in another place and time, but still enveloped in the hazy quality of another shared memory. The small room was sparsely furnished, and its dark, earthen walls reminded him of his recent imprisonment, triggering a vague sense of unease that was swiftly quelled by the colorful light and fresh air that poured in through the tapestry-covered windows. A few baubles hung from chains, catching and reflecting pin pricks of sunlight that splashed against the otherwise empty walls.

He heard a soft humming behind him, and turned his attention to the memory's other occupant.

She was sprawled on her stomach on a thin stuffed mat on the floor, head propped up by her arms, carefully studying markings and drawings on a worn animal skin, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was half tempted to peer over her shoulder to see what had so completely captivated her attention, but stopped when she started kicking her feet in time with her own tune.

Her entirely human feet.

He frowned and looked more closely at her face, wondering if he had somehow confused this human child for the harpy woman he had bound in his shadow, but one look at her distinctive hair style and piercing eyes was all it took to confirm that the two truly were the same person.

Interesting.

Without warning, she shifted her position and pushed herself upright, looking surreptitiously towards the door before reaching under the mat. She pulled out a pair of ornately decorated hand fans and reverently ran her fingers over their well shined surface, smiling at her reflection. While she was preoccupied, Shikamaru glanced over at the animal skin she had been examining and saw a series of human caricatures drawn in different poses across the page.

When he looked back, she had moved to the middle of the room and crouched down, her arms crossed over her abdomen. She once again began to hum the same tune as before, and slowly rose into a standing position, opening the fans and spreading her arms in time with her ascension until she was fully upright, her arms thrown out to her sides and the fans fully unfurled. One by one, she moved through each position on the page, sometimes wobbling through the transitions and spins, but always recovering her balance before she could fall. By the time she struck the final pose, her humming was laced by heavy pants, but her face had broken out into a radiant smile. A smile that fell as soon as she looked to the door and saw a small, brown haired boy hovering in the alcove.

"Wait, Kankuro, it isn't-"

"You took Mom's fans! I'm telling!"

"No Kankuro! You gremlin!"

The young boy turned and sprinted out of the room, disappearing from view. The girl turned back to her bed, carefully placing the fans down before turning back to follow, but froze before she could take more than a step or two towards the door.

"And what do we have here?"

A young woman with sandy hair and deep violet eyes entered the room, letting the small boy, Kankuro, cower behind her leg. The young girl tried to use her own body to hide the fans that were still laid out on the bed, but the taller woman easily peered over the top of her head.

"Mom! She was using your fans again, even though she knows she's not supposed to."

The woman smiled kindly back at the boy. "Thank you for telling me, Kankuro." She turned to face the girl again. "Is that true?"

She looked to the side, debating between admitting the obvious truth or trying to argue, but finally let out a sigh of defeat. "Yes, mom."

"Hmm… and you found one of the training lessons for the traditional dances." The woman gracefully crossed the room and bent down, retrieving the old skin and both fans. When she snapped them shut, the audible sound of metal sliding on metal filled the room, and Shikamaru realized that they were much more dangerous than simple accessories.

"I didn't steal it or anything, I just…" she grew quiet when her mother turned back, the smile gone and replaced by a stern look. "I'm sorry, I should have spoken to you or Baki-sensei first."

Her mother continued to watch her for a few moments before letting out her own sigh. "Sweetheart, I've told you before, but these fans aren't toys, and you must never ever use them unsupervised. They are dangerous weapons and should be treated and respected as such. Do I make myself clear?"

Her daughter looked down in disappointment. "Yes, mother."

The woman continued to watch her for a moment, and considered something. "Have you been continuing your stretches and exercises with Baki?"

The girl nodded hesitantly.

"And how far did you make it through the water dance?"

At this, her face again brightened, thinking back on her dance session. "I made it all the way through and I didn't have to stop to check once! I mean, I did almost fall that one time…" she grew quiet when her mother let out another sigh.

"Child, you are going to send me to an early grave." She crouched down so that she was kneeling on the floor and gently pulled her son over so that he could stand in front of her as well. "How about we make a deal."

Both children watched her expectantly.

"If you both continue to listen to Baki during your training sessions and behave during the council meetings, I'll talk to your father about having a set of wooden non-bladed fans and puppets made so you can safely learn how to-"

She cut off when both of the children lunged towards her, each pledging themselves to uphold their end of the deal, and each trying to nestle themselves closer. She chuckled quietly and enveloped the children in her arms.

Shikamaru hovered in the shadows, feeling more and more uncomfortable watching the scene before him. Even though he knew that he would relive a part of her past, he felt like an unwanted intruder on something that was precious and private. He had seen the weapons that she wore in their present times, had seen the proof of her prowess; he had expected to share a memory of blood and victory, as was common with the harpies who lived in the mountains near his home. This obvious display of love and devotion was foreign to him, and left a feeling of hollow resentment simmering in the back of his mind, even as the scene slowly faded into blackness.

She had been human, and she had been loved. How did she end up alone, murdering those who wandered through the desert?

When he opened his eyes, he had just enough time to register the stifling heat beating down on his skin and the dull pounding in the back of his skull before he felt the breath knocked from his lungs, a heavy weight pinning him to the sandy ground and a sharp blade hovering over his neck.

"What did you do to me?" Her voice came out as a hiss and her eyes blazed in anger. He blearily noticed that even her wings were vibrating in the air, unable to contribute to the situation, but thrumming with the energy of her emotions.

He scrambled to think of the best way to answer her question, resisting the urge to shake his head to clear his thoughts and which would undoubtedly impale his neck on the knife that hovered just above his skin. He found his mind sluggish from the exhaustion of the past several days and preoccupied with the juxtaposition between the small girl he had seen in the vision and the vicious woman currently threatening his life. Unfortunately, she misunderstood the intent of his silence, and lifted him by the front of his shirt before slamming him heavily back into the ground. "Don't even think of trying anything. One wrong move and this knife goes through your jugular."

He glowered back at her, his patience finally cracking. "That knife goes through my jugular and we both die."

"You're lying." Her voice was flat, but her wings paused in their movement, giving away her doubts.

"If you actually gave me a chance to explain, you'd know that I'm not." The sun was still high in the sky, and the intense light only fed his headache. "Besides, if I truly wanted to escape, I would just sink into your shadow again."

Her eyes narrowed, but the knife drifted just a hair further from his skin. "You're bluffing. I may not know all of the details of your magic, but I do know that you are drained. Otherwise you would have done it sooner."

"I may have been drained… but we were not."

She remained silent, weighing the implications of his words. Inside himself, at the core of his magic, he felt a strange sensation, almost like a faint tug before she shoved herself off of him, her teeth bared in anger. "What… how… you bound me?"

Shikamaru rubbed at the front of his neck, checking for damage, and rolled onto his side, taking a deep breath of air. "If it makes you feel any better, we're both bound to each other. I share in your magic, and you share in my life force; neither of us will age, but if either of us die, the other will suffer the same fate."

"No! It doesn't make me feel better. I already don't age- now I just get to not age while babysitting a fae-like parasite while he consumes my magic!"

He drew silent, recognizing that there was nothing he could say to quell her anger.

She stormed away for a few paces and stopped, staring off at the seemingly endless stretch of sand, the dunes rolling like waves into the horizon. After a moment, she took a deep breath and let out one of the loudest shouts he had ever heard in his life before turning back and returning to his side.

"What do you want?"

"Honestly, a chance to get out of the sun would be great."

Quick as a snake, she slapped him upside of his head. "Don't be smart with me. You know what I meant."

He let out a sigh. There was nothing to be gained from explaining that he really did need to get out of the sun soon. "I just need your help getting back to my forest."

"Sure, go east."

He glared at her. "Now who's being smart?" He tried to slow his breathing, feeling lightheaded from the spike in anger. "I think it's pretty obvious that I wouldn't stand a chance getting back on my own."

"How long did it take you to get here?"

"I can't be sure, but maybe around three days or so?"

She propped her hand on her hip and watched him carefully. "So, you're telling me that if I escort you to your forest, then you'll release me from this bond?"

"Yes."

"And after that, I'll be completely free from you- no more stealing my magic, no more reading my thoughts-"

"I mean, I can't actually read your thoughts now-"

"You'll stop seeing my memories?"

Even though nothing had changed in her tone and her expression was as unreadable as the desert sands around them, Shikamaru saw her fist clench at her side and her wings tense against her back, as if she was preparing for a fight. Although she was definitely displeased about him feeding on her magic, he realized that the root of her anger was this; the recognition that something so precious and private was now freely accessible to another.

A vulnerability.

Not in the truest sense of the word; it didn't make her any less dangerous, but for the first time since she had pinned him to the sand Shikamaru could see a ghost of the little girl she had once been.

"I'll stop seeing your memories." He waited a moment, watching for her reaction, and he felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. It had been a long time since he had felt guilty for his actions, but now that his freedom was all but assured, his mind was more than happy to remind him that it was only thanks to the intervention of the woman before him. An intervention that was rewarded by trapping her in a life bond against her will and invading the privacy of her mind. The heavy weight only continued to grow, inciting a driving frenzy to justify his actions, to explain his decision, to earn her forgiveness.

The apology was on the tip of his tongue when his eyes met the vacant stare of the corpse of his captor, still sprawled in the sun. The man's face was gaunt, drained of the shrewd confidence that made him such a formidable opponent in life. The body was sprawled beside the remains of his comrades, and while he begrudged the men for their role in his capture and their intent to exchange his life for gold, they didn't die as some sort of retribution for their crimes against him.

He once again turned to face the harpy, and felt the apology and the guilt fade away in the silence. Yes, he had seen a small snippet of the girl she once was, and brief flashes of emotion, but the truth was that she was a stranger who had murdered an entire band of men for nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A stranger who would undoubtedly leave him alone to die in the middle of the desert if given the choice.

The last of the guilt dissolved, leaving an uneasy wariness in its place.

She finally gave him a slight nod and turned away. "Fine, it's a deal." Her voice sounded slightly muffled, and his headache returned with a vengeance. He unconsciously reached up to rub his temple and found his skin slick with sweat and cold to the touch.

"Shit."

He blinked, and found the world had lost its focus, and, even more alarming, the line between the sky and the horizon had begun to shift and roll. His body collapsed into the sand and his mind plunged into darkness.