This was born primarily from when Tobi mentions Itachi killed his whole family, including his "lover". This is just a quick take on how that title may have come about. But I'm staying true to my rating for this, no smut to be found here, sorry. Haha. And I know in the series, Izumi is killed by Tobi posing as Madara- however I'm going with the Itachi Shinden version. Honestly, that version just makes so much more sense for Itachi. Enjoy!

xXx

He was in training field 10 when Izumi found him. She emerged silently from the tree line, and he could sense her tension, her hesitance in doing so as she stepped from the shadows and into the speckled waning sunshine that broke through the thick foliage into the clearing.

For his part, Itachi didn't spare her a glance. He kept his back to her, but his hands stilled and dropped to his sides, halting his intense training to communicate he was aware of her presence.

He hadn't seen nor spoken to her since Shisui's death, and surely by now she would have heard the rumors that he was behind it.

He vaguely wondered if perhaps she believed them, and the thought stung him. But perhaps it would be easier that way.

"ItachI?" Her voice was soft, unsure.

He merely lifted his head, looking up through the leaves and watching the sky as the red of dusk began to slowly bleed into the blue, giving the impression there was a fire in the distance.

Patiently, he waited for her to continue with her reason for seeking him out. This wasn't one of his usual haunts; he had no doubt she had spent quite a bit of time to find him. He knew her intentions must be of some importance.

"Um…" She pushed on when he didn't give her any verbal response, her voice dipping in volume as he heard her soft footfalls upon the grass as she approached him. "Are you… busy?"

Kunai and shuriken littered the small clearing. A sheen of sweat glinted from his skin even in the slowly dying light.

She was an observant girl, so he knew the question was rhetorical.

He turned then, slightly to the side so he could face her, head at a slant. He studied her through half lowered lashes. He caught something, a micro-expression that flitted so quickly over her pretty features that he almost doubted he saw anything at all. But he had caught it, and he felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

Fear.

And then it was gone, and her face broke into the warm smile that he had only ever seen her share with him.

"I was looking for you." She continued, emboldened now that he had turned to face her. "I haven't seen you since…" Her voice faltered then, her chocolate eyes broke their contact and flitted to the side quickly before coming back to meet his. He could tell she didn't want to voice Shisui's death out loud. Was it because she knew how close they had been and didn't want to hurt him by bringing it up? Or was it because she was afraid of voicing something she believed him to be at fault for?

"Are you okay, Itachi?" Her voice was filled with warmth and sympathy, her brows slightly furrowed and expressive dark eyes swimming with emotion.

So she hadn't taken stock in the rumors after all. She came looking for him to provide comfort. He let out a defeated sigh. She could never believe a bad thing about him. How he could have doubted that, he didn't know. But instead of being filled with relief as he should have been, his belly just twisted into tighter knots.

Following Shisui's death, he knew what had to be done now. He knew what his path must be. There was no other way. And a part of him wished she did treat him with mistrust and contempt, as much of the rest of the clan did now. It would have somehow made things easier, he couldn't help but think.

"I'm fine. I've been busy, is all." His reply was soft spoken, his eyes leaving hers to look back up at the sky again.

"Of course." She amended. He was the youngest ANBU captain in the history of the Leaf after all. "It's getting dark." She lifted her head and allowed her eyes to rest on the same spot of sky it appeared he was looking at. "Do you want to get some tea with me?"

"No, I should be heading back home." His tone was flat- dismissive- and he began to move through the field to collect the scattered kunai and shuriken embedded in their targets.

"Dango, then?" She tried again, desperation leaking into her voice.

He looked at her again at the mention of his favorite sweet, recognizing the bribe for what it was.

Her mouth twisted slightly at one end, disappointed at her own transparency. But her eyes shone with determination and she strode forward until she was within arm's reach of him.

"Itachi, I just-" She broke off sharply, clearly gathering her thoughts before letting her breath out in one audible huff. "I know you're busy. I understand that. But you've been… distant lately. You used to talk to me about things, you know? And now it feels like…" She looked down at her feet before continuing. "You're best friend just died, Itachi. I know you like to keep things to yourself sometimes but… if you feel like you can't even talk to me about something as big as that, then what good am I? You know I'm here for you." She offered him a shy smile to soften her words, but there was uncertainty in it.

It was true, over the years they had become closer. He had confided in her many times- her company was soothing. She was always very understanding, more willing to lend a listening ear then try to provide solutions or critique, for which he had always been grateful. He enjoyed her company.

There had been rumors swirling that they were even dating, and although neither had ever solidified the notion verbally, Itachi supposed that those rumors weren't exactly untrue. His own father had confronted him not more than a week after the first rumor started to flit around the Uchiha compound, trying to discern its validity. Itachi hadn't confirmed nor denied it, instead opting for staying purposefully vague.

"She is important to me." He had said simply with a half shrug, not once slowing in his task of sharpening his ninjato.

His father's eyes had gone cold.

"She's not of pure blood, Itachi. Only her mother was Uchiha. You are to be clan head some day; it is not a suitable match."

Itachi's hands had stilled, his eyes meeting his fathers'. He knew his father would see the defiance there. He didn't try to mask it. He was done trying to be the perfect heir for a selfish clan. But he didn't respond, just stared resolutely back.

Fugaku's dark eyes narrowed slightly, his permanent scowl hardening.

"I trust this isn't serious."

And with that he had left Itachi's room.

Shisui had been the next to confront him about the rumors circling the young heir and Izumi. But he had been all smiles and brotherly love.

"I'm happy for you, you know." Flashing a dashing smile, he threw one arm around Itachi's shoulder. "She's a catch! Pretty, talented, smart… especially if she's tried you're cooking already. Please Itachi, tell me you haven't cooked for her yet." He stopped then, stepping in front of Itachi with both hands on either of his shoulders, his eyes wide for dramatic effect. "If you have, I'm sorry to say but she's clearly using you. You'll be damned to the kitchen for the entirety of your marriage." His friend took a step back, giving him a quick appraising eye. "Although you did pull off an apron surprisingly well. Speaking of, when are you inviting me to dinner again? You know, my birthday is coming up soon, and all I really want is some Itachi-style Yakizakana." He finished with a wink.

The memory of his best friend tugged him back to the present. Izumi was right, he should be able to confide in her about the death of his friend. If that had been all it was. But Shisui's death had triggered something, a resolution that could not be shaken- a path that he could not turn back on. And there was so much more behind his friend's demise then he could possibly share with her. After all, she was very much a part of the Uchiha clan- she had been present for all the clan meetings since her graduation from the academy at age 9. She was well aware of the clan's developing coup. And though he did not doubt that she would be loyal to him if he did reveal his role as double agent against the clan, he would never wish to drag her into the depths of tumultuous uncertainty and stress that he and Shisui had been trying to stay afloat in for years.

And though he knew she would endure it for him, would want to be there as support in any way she could, he realized it didn't matter, in the end.

He couldn't save her. There was only room for Sasuke.

But she deserved something. He had initially thought distancing himself would be better for the both of them in the end, but he could clearly see the hurt etched into her features. She thought he felt differently about her now, and interpreted his distance as something she herself had brought about.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt her more than what was inescapable.

So he reached out to her, his fingers barely brushing the line of her soft jaw. She leaned into his touch.

"You're right." He admitted. "I didn't mean to be cold. I'm just…" He paused, his words faltering. He didn't know how to voice his feelings. In all honesty, he didn't want to voice them at all- it made everything so much more tangible.

"I just can't believe he's gone." He finally stated, his voice barely above a whisper. She surged forward then, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.

Eyes widened slightly, Itachi allowed his arms to wrap around her in turn, his left hand playing with her long chestnut tresses absentmindedly.

"You don't always have to be so strong, Itachi." She whispered at last, squeezing him a bit tighter. "You shouldn't have to bear these things alone. Because… you're not alone." She pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. Her eyes were shining with the threat of tears. "He may be gone, and I'm so, so sorry Itachi. But you still have me, and as long as I'm around, you'll never be alone, ok?"

His brows furrowed slightly at the statement, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

Misinterpreting the expression, she leaned in again and gently pressed her lips against his. It was quick, chaste, and before he could truly revel in their warmth, they were gone again. Her eyes were glistening with something different this time.

It was love, he realized. Adoration.

"And I'll always be around." She assured softly.

He knew, if it were up to her, this would be nothing less than set in stone.

But it wasn't up to her. And it wasn't up to him. Everything was careening toward one outcome, one solution, and those knots in his stomach twisted so hard this time around he felt borderline nauseas.

He studied her then, memorizing her expression, that look of unabashed and pure affection in her eyes, the way the reds and oranges of the setting sun brought out auburn highlights in her hair, giving her a crown of flames. He reveled in the feeling of her heat against him, how her soft curves felt against his tired form- inviting, like a favorite pillow after a hard day. Comforting, like coming home after a trying mission.

His heart tugged despairingly in his chest as he studied her, committing all these things to memory, desperate not to miss a single detail. Her head tilted slightly at his scrutiny, and he belatedly realized at some point he had activated his sharingan to aid him in this task. But if she thought it strange, she said nothing. And he kissed her then, desperate to add the feel of her lips to the list of things he would mentally label "Izumi" and forever cherish. The softness of her mouth, the slight taste of ginger on her tongue, the small noises she made as he deepened the kiss, losing himself in the passion of it all. He pushed forward, his tongue meeting hers. He distantly realized that they had never shared a kiss like this before, and he was almost afraid she would feel his desperation through it, and question why it felt like he was trying to lose himself in her.

But she didn't. Because truth be told, she never questioned him. Not once. She trusted him, fully and completely, and believed that whatever his actions, whatever his words, there was always good reason behind them. And she respected that. Always. It was one of the things he truly appreciated in her.

And, if he allowed himself to dwell on that thought, it was one of the things that could break him, in the end.

He was distracted by sudden movement, their kiss broken as fabric came between them, and suddenly he found himself staring down at her, her shirt on the grass at their feet, clothed in nothing from the waist up but bindings around her chest.

His heart hammered in his chest, panicked. This couldn't continue, he had to stop. The order had already been given, tonight was the last night he would be Itachi Uchiha, the genius heir of the Uchiha clan. By this time tomorrow night, his name would be tarnished in the blood of his clan.

He couldn't do this to her- be her lover one night and executioner the next.

It was too much. His heart wrenched- not for the first time- at his impending betrayal.

But she reached for him then, sensing something was wrong. She held his face in her hands, one thumb gently tracing his strong jawline. He tried to turn away, but she held fast, and he met her deep chocolate eyes at last. They were sturdy, resolute in her decision.

"Don't run away." She pleaded. "You always give so much of yourself to everyone- to the clan, to your father, to the village… to me. It's not fair on you. And sometimes I worry you're slowly losing yourself to it. I won't let that happen. You're a good man, Itachi. And you deserve to be selfish every once in a while."

"Selfish?" The word came out more of a whisper than anything, but she had heard him. She was always listening.

"Yes, Itachi. Selfish. I know you want this, and I can tell something else is making you think twice. I know you know I want this just as much, but this isn't about me. It's about you. You deserve everything you could possibly want in this world, and I want to show you it's ok to take it. So take it, Itachi."

He was still as her earnest words washed over him. She was right, he did know how much she had wanted this. She had hinted at it before, but he had adamantly refused, not wanting to tarnish her or her reputation in any way, assuring her he could wait, that he wished to do things right by her. She had always answered with the sweetest smile and slight tinge to her cheeks, reading between the lines of his words and seeing them for what they truly meant. Their relationship may have been newer, but he adored her and full Uchiha or not, he doubted anyone else would ever make him feel the way she did.

He didn't do things by half measures, and she understood that better than anybody.

But now… there was no future for them. There was no promise of "One day" or of meeting each other at an alter… and no matter how he looked at it, there was no true way of doing things right by her. Not anymore.

So he kissed her again, all fire and passion and longing, and she reached between them to bring his shirt over his head, before letting it drop to meet hers on the grass.

She was wrong about one thing though. He wasn't doing this for himself. He would savor all of it- every touch, every kiss, every sensation, every noise she made- and he would file it under that precious box marked "Izumi" in his mind.

But this wasn't for him.

This was for her, so he could prove to her that he did truly care for her. So she would feel his love and his adoration for her. She would feel his despair and regret for their situation, even if she didn't comprehend it yet. Without a doubt, he knew she would understand. When the time came, she would understand that this wasn't what he wanted, that he never wanted to hurt her. He hoped it would be enough.

So the two of them indulged in their affections and lost themselves in each other. Under a darkening sky, in an empty meadow with the chill of fall in the air, two became one.

For the first time.

For the last time.

xXx

The night was dark, the compound quiet. He had waited long enough that most had turned to their beds for sleep. After all, just because death would shadow him tonight did not mean that mercy could not also be present, if possible.

He took a lungful of crisp air, held it, and then released before securing his mask to his face. He had sent his dark associate for the night to start at the police station, knowing it was on the other end of the compound. He insisted on starting here. He needed to start here or he would never make it through. He launched himself over the gate, all agility and stealth, and landed before a small humble house right along the edge of the compound.

He opened the door and let himself in, padding down the long hallway to the left that led to the bedrooms. He found a middle aged woman in her bed, already deep in the throes of REM sleep. One quick movement and his ninjato was coated red, a thin but deep line across the throat barely starting to seep red. Quick, painless.

A thud sounded behind him as a shoji door opened, and he heard a small gasp. He turned, finding Izumi in a think deep blue slip for a nightgown, a kunai in hand, her sharingan spinning. He supposed it was too much to hope that she, too, would be asleep. But then again, he admonished, he didn't deserve the easy way out.

So he set the tainted blade on the nightstand and reached for his mask. As he slid it down, showing his face, the kunai in Izumi's hand clattered noisily to the floor.

"Itachi…" There was so much pain in her voice. But not for her mother he realized. Not even for herself.

It was for him.

Her expression softened then, her eyes moving to the still body of her mother, the blood seeping from her neck now coating the sheets.

"How could we have driven you to this…"

He stiffened. His breath hitched in his chest. She didn't blame him for this. She knew the man he was, she saw how the increasingly aggressive clan meetings had been having a compounding effect on him until he had stopped attending altogether. And she understood.

Wholly and completely he could see in her eyes that she understood why he felt he had to do this, the lesser of two evils. She had always respected his opinions in the beginning when he would confide in her about the meetings, back when he believed talking about it could change anything.

"You're too good for this clan." She had told him once. Leaning against his shoulder. Assuring him with her tone that she agreed with his view, that she respected his pacifistic solutions. "You'll be the one to bring us to redemption one day. You're the only one who can."

But she was the one who was too good for this clan. Too good for this fate. Danzou had only allowed for one survivor of this night, and that was Sasuke. Even then, it took everything Itachi possessed to negotiate those terms. There was no room for Izumi to be spared. And he knew that. He had prepared himself for that. But suddenly, he found that he could not fight her.

His fist clenched as he stared at the kunai she had dropped. Even with her life clearly in danger, she showed no intent of fighting him either. She had lost her father as a child, and had just watched as he took her mother from her, and yet she refused to even so much as defend herself. Her body was steady, her breathing normal. He couldn't even sense any fear coming from her. As always, she understood him, and trusted his judgment. That if he deemed this to be the best solution, then that's what it was.

He may not be able to spare her life this night, but he would not take it either.

"Izumi." His voice was steady, powerful, beseeching.

She looked at him then, steady even in the gaze of his Mangekyo.

And in an instant, she was pulled into his Tsukuyomi.

And there they were together, every day, through the chill of winter to the new blooms of spring and into the fresh days of summer. Drinking tea, sharing dango, leaning against each other from laughing so hard, sharing passionate kisses. A light touch, a warm hand to hold, a shoulder to rest her head on.

She was walking towards him, in a beautifully simple traditional dress, the color as white and pure as her soul. Her father leading her down the aisle, a soft pride in his eyes as he looked at her. Shisui clapping a congratulatory hand on Itachi's shoulder, everyone else they loved before them as they sealed their union with a chaste kiss.

They were in a house, their home. Izumi fretting over whether the color of the new curtains truly matched the furniture or if she should return it, Itachi chuckling and reassuring her that it looked fine. Then they were building something together in a small room of the house, Itachi nailing the last of the wood in place and catching her eye as she helped him keep it sturdy. Both standing back to admire the small crib standing in the middle of the room.

Bright lights lit up a hospital room, Izumi holding a small rustling bundle of cloth, her hair matted slightly to her forehead by a thin sheen of sweat from exertion. Chocolate brown eyes met deep onyx before both pairs of eyes settled on the small child nestled in her arms. Both the proud parents' faces adorned with adoring smiles.

The dinner table was full, only one chair left open as Itachi brought some of Izumi's favorite dishes and set them down, before taking his place at the head of the table. Izumi locked eyes with her husband, their dark haired children restless in her peripherals, eager to indulge in their father's cooking. Their hands sought each other, locking with warm intertwining fingers.

She went to each of her children's graduation from the academy- some deciding to continue to become shinobi and serve their peaceful village as their mother and father had done, some choosing other professions like doctor, teacher, writer. Because these were times of peace. Because they had every opportunity to choose to do so. And she and her husband supported each decision fully and whole heartedly.

She was at her children's weddings, the birth of her grandchildren, each birthday and each anniversary more and more precious than the last. Her loving husband at her side through every moment, until she found herself in her bed, an old woman, Itachi at her side. They were holding each other, gentle fingers scratched her back in the most comforting manner. She looked up at his beautiful onyx eyes, so deep with emotion.

"I couldn't have asked for a better life." She heard him say, his deep baritone still as powerful as ever, even if the body housing it was touched with age. "I love you, Izumi Uchiha."

And she sighed, agreeing wholeheartedly with his words. She couldn't have asked for a better existence. This was all she had ever wanted. Itachi by her side, helping her raise their children to be just the kind of decent, peace loving people they themselves were. The kind of people the world needed more of. The air left her lungs, and did not fill again as the Uchiha Matriarch passed away silently in the arms of her beautiful husband.

He watched as her body began to crumble, and in an instant he was there, catching her, gently bringing her limp body to his chest and lifting her onto the bed.

In reality, not even a fraction of a second had passed. But the lifetime spent within the Tsukuyomi was too much strain for a body to bear, and she was gone before his fingers had even grazed the soft fabric of her nightgown. He laid her gently at the foot of the bed. Her face seemed at peace. In the dark, he could even convince himself that there was a shadow of a smile at her lips.

It was the best he could do for her- to give her the life she deserved.

The life they both deserved.

He spared her one last glance, his favorite freckle beneath her right eye so much more prominent against her pallid skin. He let his heart sink then, allowing his mind time to absorb the fact that he can never have that peaceful life, filled with love and the laughter of his most precious people.

That future was up in flames.

In the next instant his ninjato was in his hand, and suddenly he was at the next house. Then the next. And the next.

Because the night was far from over, and he couldn't afford to stop now.

It was time to burn it down.