Hey everyone!

Sorry for the late update. Actually, I can't remember when I last updated this, so maybe it's not so late after all? I hope so. I personally really like this chapter, even though it's pretty dramatic. It's got a lot of feels, in my opinion. I wrote it while listening to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Lorde. I recommend listening to that while reading it - not so much for the lyrics as the music itself, but yeah...Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it, too!

Warning: Angsty-angst angst and this is somewhat (largely) unedited.

8

-Children-

At his beloved's sudden loss of consciousness, Madara sighed heavily and rolled off her to the side, pulling her body close to nestle against his. They fit together perfectly as he slid his arm under her head and tucked her into him. The sweet, pungent scent of sex still filled the room and he inhaled it wantonly, pleased that it was at last Sakura's scent intertwining with his instead of some nameless woman's.

He adjusted his head so he could look at her and at the sight of her puffy red eyes and the glistening tear tracks on her cheeks, he quickly used his arm to wipe away the evidence of her tears. He hated to see her cry and it was unfortunate that this was the way things had to be, but he wouldn't let Sakura go. As soon as she accepted her position by his side, he would make sure she never had to cry again. When she gave birth, she would be on the most potent epidural ever created by man so that she would not so much as shed a single tear while giving him his heir. He would never hurt her again; he would cherish her and love her as though she was a goddess descended from the heavens. She would never want for anything—he would make her his hime and the entirety of Japan, no, the entirety of the world would know that Uchiha Sakura was his and only his. She would be happy; she would only ever be happy with him. He would not settle for anything less concerning his hime.

Usaki had had strict instructions to go home immediately once dismissed and Madara had made sure to see the older man enter the taxi before he went to Sakura. The chef had no idea that he had slipped something into his hime's drink and would certainly protest to the situation if he had stayed any longer than he had. Content that he would be alone with Sakura for the rest of the night—he had also dismissed Usaki for the next day—Madara slowly but surely adjust himself and Sakura under the covers and allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep, finally content to have her by his side at last.

Before Sakura even opened her eyes, she felt the pounding headache in her temples.

Groaning, her eyes fluttered open to take in her surroundings—because this bed was definitely not her own, so perhaps Sasuke's—but her eyes were immediately assaulted by bright morning light. She immediately clenched them shut and threw her arm over her sensitive retinas, groaning even louder.

She must have stayed at Sasuke's, gotten drunk, and fallen asleep in his bed. She hoped nothing else had happened because she wanted her first time with Sasuke to be memorable and remembered.

Sakura felt someone lightly threading their fingers through her hair and noticed that she was warmly surrounded by a very male body. "Get me water," she immediately demanded of her boyfriend. "And aspirin."

There was a chuckle from above her and then the shifting of the bed. Sasuke's chuckle was deeper than she remembered, but that differentiation was probably because of her pain-addled brain. Footsteps echoed on the ground and she heard the tap being run as well as the rattling of a pill bottle.

Sakura refused to open her eyes until the blinds were closed, as well. "And close the damn curtains," she grumbled on after a pause. "I don't know how drunk you got me, Sasuke, but we better not have had sex because we talked about that and I told you I wanted to be sober."

All movement from the bathroom stopped, although the tap was still running. Somehow, there was the definite feeling of tension in the room, and that was when Sakura remembered a singular, very crucial detail.

Sasuke did not have a bathroom attached to his room.

Like an avalanche crashing down a mountain, disjointed memories assaulted her. Dinner with Madara. Stomachache. Touching herself…being touched…the sound of ripping clothing…tears…pain…

Violation.

Sakura stilled, not daring to move or breathe, and the tap was finally shut off. Footsteps echoed again and neared her. Barely suppressing hyperventilation, she felt her hand lifted up and two pills were placed in her palm. There was the sound of a glass cup, presumably filled with water, being placed on a nearby surface.

She curled her fingers around the tablets in her hand and waited as the footsteps moved further away.

"There is clothing in the dresser. Gather yourself when you are ready."

Madara. That was Madara's voice.

Sakura felt a singular tear creep from the corner of her eye and leak down into the pillow beneath her.

The footsteps continued to retreat and the door to the bedroom shut.

She was shaking now. Removing her arm but not opening her eyes, she swallowed the pills dry—she wouldn't be accepting drinks from Madara that she hadn't screened beforehand any time soon. The bitterness of the pills almost made her gag, but they weren't the reason that she ended up vomiting.

As soon as she shifted, she felt the residual stickiness between her naked thighs and knew that everything she pieced together in her mind had actually happened.

She vomited until there was nothing left and then dry heaved some more. She didn't realize she was crying until she choked on her tears.

No matter what the circumstance, she knew that Sasuke would not take this lightly. He had initially been against her visiting Madara and it was only after her insistence that everything would be fine that he consented. She knew Sasuke trusted her, but how could she explain to him—and have him believe—that Madara, his relative and revered head of the Uchiha clan, had actually resorted to raping her when he could have any woman he wanted?

No, it was not exactly a believable story, no matter how true.

When she finally calmed down enough to think rationally, more bits and pieces of memory came back to her. She remembered a conversation with Madara, but she couldn't recall what was said or how she actually fell asleep. It seemed unlikely that she would stay the night willingly, so perhaps he had drugged her to fall asleep, as well? It wouldn't be all that surprising.

Her abdomen ached from both the heaving as she vomited as well as the leftover effects of having had sex for the first time. Shakily, she turned to the shower. She didn't want to see Madara any time soon and she absolutely had to get rid of his essence on her.

The thought of pregnancy flashed through her mind and she flinched, accidentally jerking the water tap a little too hard. No, she wouldn't think about that right yet. She might be having a lot of bad luck right now, but surely she wasn't so cursed that she would get pregnant from the first time she had sex. She knew from the stickiness that Madara had not used a condom, so just to cement the improbability of getting pregnant, she would go and fetch a morning-after pill as soon as Madara took her home.

Stepping into the heated shower blast, Sakura wilted. What insanity was he up to? What if he didn't let her go home? No, no—that would be kidnapping. He wouldn't do that.

However, try as she might to recall that last conversation the night before, she couldn't make the words any less hazy in her mind than the memories had been, so she would have to assume the worst.

There was only Madara's personal soaps in the shower and Sakura refused to smell like him, so she did her best to scrub herself down without soap before getting out. Wrapping herself with a borrowed towel, Sakura was relieved that when she walked, her thighs now slid cleanly against each other instead of feeling residue of the night previous with every step she took.

Loathe as she was to wear Madara's clothing, her dress from the night before was irreparably ruined. She pulled an oversized t-shirt out of the top shelf, not caring which one she chose, and felt vaguely ill again when she realized she had encased herself in her rapist's scent. With a deep, shuddering breath, Sakura resolved to not break down any further and approach this situation with a rational mind, no matter how broken she felt at the moment. All the pants she found were too big for her, but she refused to wear a pair of Madara's boxers, even though they would likely fit as a sort of gym shorts. Looking for the smallest pair of pants that she could, she eventually settled on some blue sweatpants—who actually made designer sweatpants, of all things?—that tightened at the waist with a drawstring. She had to roll up the bottoms to her knees for them to stay up and in the end, she felt like a poorly dressed ragdoll.

It was better than being naked though.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Sakura steadied herself and exited Madara's bedroom. It had occurred to her to sneak out the window, but her purse was outside and she had no money to get home.

Like salt being poured on an open wound, Sakura was reminded of everything that had happened two days before and how she had thought she could get Madara to at least help with her otou-san's jobs.

Following the hallway's path led her to eventually reach the living room. She steadfastly ignored the couch where this disaster had begun and, after crossing the room diagonally, she reached the dining room.

Madara sat at the table, nonchalantly reading the newspaper as though this was an everyday morning for him. And she supposed it might be. She couldn't imagine that there were very many women in Japan who would consider spending the night with Uchiha Madara a bad thing, significant other or not. It seemed to be just her luck that she was one of the few.

She stopped in the doorway, hesitating for the first time. What was going to happen now? Was she going to be taken home via a very awkward car ride? Was he going to try to do that again? She was almost starting to wonder if she even wanted to know. If only she could rewind the past twenty-four hours—no, the past forty-eight.

He noticed her, unfortunately, and when he saw her dressed in his clothing she knew she wasn't imagining the satisfied gleam in his eyes. Her brow furrowed minutely but she said nothing, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from his gaze.

"Have you considered my proposal?" he asked after a long silence. He folded the newspaper and set it down on the table, giving her his undivided attention.

She wished that he wasn't staring at her like that. "What proposal?" she asked calmly, even though her heart was fluttering in her chest. This was probably related to that conversation last night that the drugs had erased from her memory. "I don't really remember anything. It seems drugging people can have some unwanted side effects."

She hadn't mean to be so snappy and sarcastic, but it came out that way anyways. Madara raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn't seem too bothered by her deduction. If anything, his casual approach to this was making her even more angry and uncomfortable.

With ease that only an Uchiha could achieve, Madara repeated the information he had told her the night before—her frozen bank accounts, suspension from school, housing problems, and Kakashi's job situation were all his doing and the only way to make everything right was for her to marry him.

Sakura said nothing, her face blank with shock and her knees trembling with fear. She felt like she was going to pass out and the question as to how she had fallen asleep the night before became terribly clear. He didn't need to drug her for that—he only had to tell her of this horrific situation she'd found herself in.

After a long pause, Sakura gathered herself. "And what am I supposed to tell Sasuke?" she asked. Her voice was toneless and frighteningly calm despite the fact that she was falling to pieces inside.

"That's up to you," Madara replied, equally as calm. His eyes were focused on her, searching her face as if to find a reaction.

She was trying so hard not to give him one, but panic was bubbling up in her chest and to her throat. Forcefully, she swallowed it down. "Sasuke's not just going to let this go when I tell him what you did." Good, she still sounded reasonable, as though this was just a business transaction she had to take care of to move forward with life.

"I'm afraid Sasuke-kun's opinion doesn't matter all that much to me," Madara admitted placidly. He stood and Sakura flinched away in fear, but he wasn't approaching her. "What would you like for breakfast?" he asked as he turned towards the kitchen.

"I'd like to go home, actually."

"After breakfast," Madara said, his voice clearly telling her that this was a battle she would not win.

Sakura felt her stomach roll at just the thought of food, but she was in Madara's house and trapped. Best to play by his rules for now. "Just some fruit, please."

He went into the kitchen and Sakura closed her eyes when he disappeared, trying to filter through the information she had been given as reasonably and logically as possible.

In a grand demonstration of power and influence, Madara had put her between a rock and a hard place. She didn't doubt that if he was serious—although the question of why? was very much on the tip of her tongue—he could do much more than what he had already to keep her trapped and force her to say yes. Switch banks? Possible, but Madara would undoubtedly interfere or refreeze her family's assets once they had been transferred. Apply to another school? Possible again, but if her money stayed frozen she wouldn't even be able to pay the application fee. Leave the country? Drastic, unwanted, and likely impossible, because without money how were they going to buy a plane ticket? Her otou-san had been working at the same company since graduating from college and it was probably his best job reference—and references were entirely in Madara's legal control.

So obviously, with her bank account frozen and Kakashi's funds coming only from Uchiha Corp., there was little she could do.

Then there were other options. Go to the police was one of her only options to get this all undone without acquiescing to Madara's demands and unfortunately, it was the least likely to help her. Madara was the Uchiha clan head and the Tokyo Police Department was run mostly by the Uchiha. Even if Madara didn't interfere with her dealings with the police, it was likely a dead end. No Uchiha in their right mind would bring such shame to their clan. And should she be lucky enough to get someone who wasn't an Uchiha to handle her case who didn't also have Uchiha supervisors—which was highly unlikely—who would want to make an enemy of Uchiha Madara? Sure, a prosecutor might stand up against him for the publicity, but it was unlikely.

Suddenly, Sakura swallowed hard. She used to watch American cop shows when she was younger and she realized that by taking a shower, she had washed away the evidence of her rape. She could still report it, but she had made the case much weaker—which probably wasn't possible at this point.

Because really, why would Uchiha Madara rape someone when there were so many women out there who would willingly sleep with him? There just wasn't a good way out of this.

Helpless tears tugged at her eyelashes and Sakura took a deep breath. He was well and truly a bastard, and unfortunately he was an incredibly intelligent and cunning bastard. She had everything to lose and nothing to gain by refusing his proposal, as well as nothing to lose and everything to gain by saying yes.

Unbidden, the one thing that was making this a truly difficult situation came to the forefront of her mind.

Uchiha Sasuke, the love of her life and the boy she had only just started a relationship with.

If it weren't for Sasuke, the night before might not have been rape. She acknowledged that while he was much older than her, Madara was attractive and it was flattering that he had taken so much interest in someone like her. If it weren't for Sasuke, it was possible that Madara might not have had to trap her into saying yes—again, if he was truly serious and actually understood just what he was asking of her. If it weren't for Sasuke, she probably would be looking at this as a fantastic opportunity to have her dream to be a doctor funded and have a financially stable home life. Kakashi would be able to retire right now and travel the world like he said he had always wanted to do. In a way, if it weren't for Sasuke, this would be perfect, even though she was marrying for money and not love.

But Sasuke was alive and she loved him and that just changed everything.

Last night was rape. Madara had trapped her into saying yes. She wasn't looking at this as an opportunity, but rather as a life-ruining occurrence. Because of Sasuke, this would be a forced marriage and she would be miserable for the rest of her life. She wasn't dumb enough to think that by saying yes, all her problems would go away and then she could divorce this bastard, going back to her old life—go back to Sasuke.

As Madara walked back into the room, holding a bowl full of strawberries, blueberries, and peach slices, Sakura broke out into a cold sweat.

If Sasuke did not believe her that it was rape, if he believed she had cheated on him, then even if she ruined her life to go be with him…well, he wouldn't want to be with her.

"Sit," Madara all but commanded. Sakura, still lost in the terrible thoughts in her mind, automatically obeyed him. Madara was eating what looked like an omelet over rice, fresh and hot, while Sakura picked distractedly at her fruit. He was quiet as he ate, apparently noticing that she was lost in thought.

As Sakura chewed on a strawberry slice that seemed to taste like ash, she realized that the entirety of her decision depended on Sasuke. She wasn't going to reject Madara based on the fact that he had raped her—the stakes were too high and she was almost certain that pursuing a case against him would be nothing but frustrating, tedious, and in the end, futile. She knew logically that she would be receptive to this if it weren't for Sasuke. So in the end, her answer depended on Sasuke.

No, perhaps not Sasuke himself—it was what Sasuke represented. Hope. A light at the end of the tunnel.

Ironically, he also represented the tunnel itself.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura assembled herself and forced herself to look at Madara.

"I have to talk to Sasuke before I make a decision," she said quietly, but the atmosphere was so thick with tension that she might as well have shouted it.

Madara did not look up at her. "To see if he believes your story?" he inquired casually.

Sakura felt the jab acutely. "It's not a story. It's the truth."

"Very well," Madara replied, and Sakura was a little surprised that he had agreed so easily. "But before you do so, you should know that I have spoken to him and he is not…pleased with you at the moment."

Like a lightning bolt had struck her, Sakura shot up from her seat and slammed her palms on the table. Madara didn't so much as flinch at the gunshot sound. "You told him?" she shrieked angrily. "Now he'll never believe me! You bastard!"

"You took over an hour to get ready. A businessman takes advantage of any situation he can and uses it to his advantage," Madara replied simply.

Sakura was so stunned by his words that she could only stare at him, jaw working wildly but nothing coming out. Finally, when she could speak again, she breathed, "How could you?"

Madara set down his chopsticks and made eye contact at last. Sakura felt tears running down her cheeks and she did her best not to sob.

"How could you? You took away Sasuke. You took away the only thing that mattered to me." Hot, fat tears dripped down her chin. Wiping at her tears uselessly, she slumped back into her seat and withheld her sobs only with great effort. "He was the only thing that mattered to me."

His expression was now solemn and she could see, even through her tears, that he was deadly serious.

"And you, Sakura," hearing her name, she sniffled and looked up at him mutinously, "are the only thing that matters to me. It's unfortunate that you are hurt by this, but I always get what I want."

Sakura had no words. Letting out a ragged sob, she stood and stumbled away blindly from the room. Not caring anymore, she threw herself on the couch and sobbed into its cushy armrest.

She felt very much like a child as she cried, and when Madara knelt beside her and began to rub her back soothingly, she didn't have the fortitude or strength to shove him away. Despite the fact that he was the cause of it all, she let him comfort her.

Uchiha Mikoto was used to waking up before everyone else. She would wake up even before her husband, bathing and dressing quietly so that after he prepared for the day, he would come to the kitchen and find breakfast waiting for him at the table. Sasuke often awoke later, but she cooked for him as well, and she used to cook for Itachi before he moved to Kyoto.

However, on Saturdays, Fugaku did not have work so Mikoto allowed herself to sleep in a little—which turned out to be a futile effort because she was awakened suddenly by the sound of a fist going through a wall.

Startled, she jumped out of bed. The sound had come from Sasuke's room and a roar followed it. Fugaku was already hurrying to Sasuke's room and Mikoto followed behind him closely, concern filling her rapidly.

When Fugaku threw open the door, he immediately demanded, "Sasuke! What is going on?"

Sasuke was standing with his back to them, his fist imbedded in the wall and dribbles of blood running down his forearm. Mikoto almost let out of a cry of fear until Sasuke slowly turned to them and she saw that his face was covered in tear tracks and his eyes were full of misery.

"Fugaku," she whispered. Her husband looked at her sharply. She motioned for him to move and reluctantly he did so, allowing her to rush into the room.

Her first order of business was to remove Sasuke's hand from the wall. It came easily but he had at the very least bruised and cut his knuckles badly.

"Here, here, honey," she said softly, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Fugaku was still standing there when Mikoto led Sasuke, who was still silently crying, out of his room and to the bathroom down the hall. Making a shooing motion with her hands and shooting him a glare, Mikoto managed to intimidate Fugaku away from Sasuke's vicinity.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked as she cleaned out Sasuke's wounds with water and soap. He shook his head angrily, indicating that he did not want to speak about it, so Mikoto nodded understandingly and went to wrap the injuries.

Just as she'd finished taping the gauze down, Sasuke suddenly whispered, "Sakura left me for Ma-…for another man." A shiver wracked his body and Mikoto wasn't sure if it was rage or hurt. "She just…left. And she didn't even do it herself—he called me to tell me. Said she couldn't do it herself." For the first time since he had been ten years old and broken his arm doing some stunt or other with Naruto, Sasuke let out a harsh sound that was a mix between a self-loathing laugh and sob.

Then he was breaking apart at the seams and sobbing wildly into his hands.

Mikoto decided that dealing with Sasuke and Sakura's relationship was less important at the moment than comforting her child, so with slow, rotating movements, she rubbed her son's back as he fell to pieces in her arms. He curled against her in a way he hadn't done since very early childhood and cried into her shoulder.

And Mikoto held him, because that's what mothers do for their children.

Poor Sasuke and Sakura. And no, this is not the last we've seen of Sasuke or SasuSaku (even though canon!Sasuke is currently my absolute least favorite character in Naruto right now. Sakura can do SO much better.) I like my version of Sasuke enough to at least not THOROUGHLY abuse him. Poor guy (and I still can't feel sorry for him. Wow, I'm a bastard...and I don't care.)

And that's all I'm going to say. ;)

Review!