Yeah, well, I'm back from the dead. w00t! I've had so much going on this took me nearly forever to do once I got my random inspiration, but it was so satisfying that all those initial worries about doing something so wonky melted away. Hope you enjoy!

"I'm not a babysitter, yeah."

Michiko's shoulders sagged and she released a dramatic sigh. "Yes, I know, I was just wondering if you could, you know, try. For me. I mean, honestly, I haven't been outside the base in years! …I've forgotten what the rest of the world looks like…"

"Well, leaving isn't exactly going to refresh your memory."

"…Not visually, I know, but the smells, the feelings… I miss it."

"That's weak, yeah. Why me? Sasori doesn't feel anything when she bites him, yeah. Ask him."

"Okay, for one, Sasori is an inconsiderate block of ice. And Isuki needs to figure out that it's not okay to bite people."

"Also pathetic, yeah. Why do you really want to leave?"

"…I'm exhausted. I need some… alone time."

"Right, which is why Itachi's going, too?"

"Deidara, you don't know. 'Alone' doesn't mean just me anymore."

"Ah. So, by your logic, being 'alone' is a cure for exhaustion?"

"You know, never mind. That was a stupid idea. Forget I even asked."

"Michiko, wait. …Does it have to be me?"

"…I can't trust anyone else. But it's fine, just forget it. You obviously have better things to do."

Deidara started when the door slammed open and brought up a hand to shield his food from the cold.

Isuki wobbled in through the snow, leaving sets of melting footprints and a light dusting of white powder on the floor. The child then proceeded to fall over and roll across the now damp floor giggling. After several attempts she succeeded in standing up and darted jerkily into a hallway.

Michiko trailed after, drifting to the couch and falling on it limply. She didn't need to tilt her head sideways because she didn't need to breathe, so her face remained stuffed into the fabric. Her slightly curled fingers brushed against the floor and her head was merely a convoluted mess of black hair flecked with melting snowflakes.

"What's wrong?"

"Tired," came her muffled response.

Isuki reappeared, slowly pulling Itachi toward the open door by the sleeve of his cloak and looking back at him a few times as if to make sure he was still there. This occurrence was normal.

"Why, yeah?"

"Motherhood," she grumbled, shifting slightly.

That seemed to pique Itachi's attention. "What?" Isuki glanced back at him when suddenly she wasn't pulling him forward anymore. As a matter of fact, she was being dragged backwards as Itachi moved to the back of the couch. "Michiko?"

Isuki continued to tug on his cloak urgently. "Daddy, come look!" She leaned back at an impossible angle, clinging to the fabric.

"What do you mean 'what'?" Michiko demanded quietly. Meanwhile, Itachi had slipped out of his cloak. When he let go Isuki fell over backwards, slowly obscured from view as the undulating cloth fell on her. When gravity had done its job there was a quivering, softly sniffling Isuki-shaped lump of cloak on the floor.

"Oh, no," Michiko chuckled after a short pause. "Focus on the existing child."

Itachi almost grinned, but Deidara couldn't help but feel he looked relieved, which didn't actually make any sense. The cloak hiccupped and curled up on its side dejectedly.

Michiko went limp again, just lying there like a rag doll. "'Mn gtired," she muttered, burrowing deeper into the couch cushion.

Itachi sighed and bent over, gathering up the edges of his cloak, slinging it over his shoulder like a sack and carrying Isuki away. The child squirmed and giggled helplessly, fighting half-heartedly for freedom - like a kitten in a knotted bag with a brick that doesn't even know the meaning of the word "river".

Deidara marveled at the fact that he had faded into the background. Almost like he hadn't even been there.

His rice was cold.

He abandoned it for a lost cause and stood up, waltzing over to Michiko's side. "So, did you have fun?"

A strangled snort managed to make itself heard through the couch. "Oh, yes, we had so much fun."

"So what happened?" he inquired, more out of curiosity than concern; Michiko was more than capable. He had no need to worry about her. She worried about Isuki enough for both of them.

"Oh, not much. You know, the usual: we start snowman, she chases squirrels, I chase her, she comes back inside and wants to show Itachi what 'she' did."

"She didn't?"

"Of course not! Have you ever seen a four year-old try to make a snowman? It's pathetic. So I do everything and she takes credit because she's learning how to be conniving."

"And you don't discourage this, yeah?"

"You have to be conniving to survive conniving people. And she looks so cute when she shows off what I've done."

"The snowman, yeah."

"Actually," she corrected, finally rolling over to face him, "it was more of a snowkitty by the end. With ears and everything."

Michiko didn't add anything else, and Deidara certainly had nothing to say other than something pathetic like, "how cute," and that sure as hells didn't give him any options; your chances of survival were shot if people thought you'd gone soft. His attention was diverted when Michiko stretched, arching her back and crawling over the couch. Her eyes popped back up over the edge and almost seemed to see him when she cocked an eyebrow at him.

"If you ever decide to go sight-seeing behind the couch, you'll have to be sure to invite me along – there's some pretty interesting scenery back here that I'm sure would prove fascinating upon closer inspection." He couldn't restrain a laugh at the gravity of her tone and the way she eased back out of sight, but that laughter was abruptly cut off when he crashed his train of thought. He realized he didn't know whether she was joking or not, and, considering that, whether there were any implications in it. Resigned, he sat on the couch and peered over the back to see Michiko just lying there on the floor, arm resting over her blind eyes.

It almost made him want to reconsider letting her escape for a while. Almost, except for the fact that he didn't know the first thing about what to do with a child. He hardly remembered being a child himself. There had been no good memories to give him incentive enough to remember being a child. Not to mention Isuki's bothersome habit of being… bothersome. Deidara didn't know if that was how children were in general or if it was just Isuki, but that didn't even apply to the situation at hand. Point made, Isuki was an annoying, bothersome and foreign creature to him, and he didn't want to be responsible for her. Especially when considering all the things that could happen in – how long would she be gone, anyway? Several days? Not paying attention and inadvertently maiming or otherwise heinously injuring Isuki would not be the best way to score brownie points with Michiko.

She made no move to get up, and it really looked like she needed the rest, so something in the back of his mind told him to leave her alone. He mused over the pros and cons of life in general and all its facets when he finally found his room and his bed, the latter of which he sat upon while his fingers met the familiar surface of a momentarily shapeless lump of clay.

Deidara needed to do some thinking.

He had decided to give it a chance. For Michiko.

After all, how much trouble could a single child be? All he really had to do was be sure she didn't die and everything would be fine. Children didn't need constant attention, really. They just needed to have someone make sure they didn't burn anything down. There wasn't actually that much he really needed to know about children, considering he didn't have any. He was only going to watch one. For a short – hopefully – extent of time.

Deidara's intent was to ask Michiko about that time variable when he knocked on her door.

"Michiko?" No answer. He tried again.

He was very reluctant to open the door. He felt he couldn't trust the other side when the door to Michiko and Itachi's room was closed. It was almost always closed, which meant the room – and what took place within – was in general very untrustworthy. Indeed, once scarred for life Deidara was quite content to avoid that which had scarred him.

"Michiko?" He grimaced at the note of desperation in his tone. Why did he even care? It wasn't his job or anything. In fact, he was just being helpful, which was rather depressing in and of itself. Shouldn't he have been off killing people and such? Ransacking villages and watching everything go up in smoke and bursts of fire? That reminded him of something…

He plucked that something from his pocket. Something vaguely humanoid in shape, it had lost its flexibility long ago. It looked like a child, but it was blackened and crisp now. An eye was missing, the mock hair singed away. It had belonged to a little girl, once.

He had watched her burn.

Now it was his, but that shouldn't stay true much longer. It should belong to a little girl. It exuded a feeling that it should be held and caressed by blessedly smooth little fingers, perhaps to counteract its crisped exterior.

For a few minutes the world had burned.

Closing his fist around the little doll, he knocked again, and he resolved that this would be the last time. No matter the result, he would not knock again.

There was no answer.

Dammit.

He glanced around nervously, reluctantly putting his hand on the doorknob. It tingled, he could have sworn. It tingled under his hand and left a residual stinging sensation in his mouth.

The corners of his mouth twisted down, he pushed the door open, not even half-heartedly but as if he was silently willing it not to open at all. The hinges gave off a weak creak, not theatrically tortuous in the least, but neither did it harbor a very calming quality. The sound grated on his nerves just as the metal grated against the door pin.

He wasn't sure which was worse; the fact that the door opened at all, albeit very slightly, or the knowledge that he would have to push it again. The thought was discarded in its entirety and, since nothing had been thrown at the door, he decided it was safe to enter.

It was empty. Which, when push came to shove, was quite a relief. He crossed the bare floor and glanced out the window at the little rabbit compound. No, Michiko wasn't feeding. Great. Now what was he supposed to do? …Where else did Michiko actually go?

Come to think of it, he didn't really know much about what Michiko did during the day. He did know she didn't leave the base much. But was that by choice? That would make her a homebody. She was usually busy doing something, though, so that must make her… a busybody. Because people who stayed home and didn't do anything were considered slobs. So, following this logic, she should be somewhere in the base, doing something, who knew what.

A fat lot of good that did him.

So he was doomed to wander until he found her. On the other hand, he could have just left it for a lost cause and gone to do something productive. But if he simply surrendered Michiko would undoubtedly ask him again, and it would give a more positive impression if he were to volunteer this simplistic service than appearing badgered into submission by her constant request.

Deidara looked around with a distinct lack of concentration, his mind continually flitting back to inviting thoughts of clay and not-so-pleasant flashes brimming with the screams of fire in his mind.

He had burned her.

Fist tightening around the brittle doll he shrugged it off, deciding that the next and only other time he would think of that thing would be when he pawned it off on Isuki and in doing so pawned off the screams burned into his mind.

His focus was drawn back to the real world sharply when he bumped into something and an unfamiliar wet seeped through the arm of his sweatshirt – because it was cold. Not the wet, which was actually pleasantly warm, but the weather. It was unbearable. Deidara was convinced his core temperature was not supposed to differ so astronomically from that of his skin. It was unnatural. He would love to simply sleep through the cold. He was so warm when he was asleep. The sensation hung around even after he woke up…

And then his feet touched the floor.

Gods, how he hated the floor.

The wet was starting to cool and he looked up irritably to find the source of this discomfort, and his vision filled with the violent contrast of red on white.

Hidan had a clearly defined hole in his chest and the freshly red blood not directly leaking from the wound manifested itself as translucent pink rivulets running down his sweat-slicked skin. Deidara was no stranger to the sight of blood, but its vivacity managed to surprise him every single time. And now the lifeless fluid was blossoming over his sleeve.

"Hey, have you seen Michiko anywhere?"

At first all he received in return was a cold scum-of-the-earth look that took the opportunity to gleefully and yet silently remind him he was going to hell. Oh, yes, Deidara was constantly reminded that he was going to hell when he died, almost always by Hidan. Then the masochist's arm went slack and Deidara noticed the pike resting in the loose curve of his fingers. If he had been paying more attention he might have found some humor in the situation. Hidan was casually palming a bloodied pike. And him? He had a doll. A doll. And not even a nice doll, at that.

"Seriously? Where the fuck have you been? They left an hour ago."

A beat, then: "'They' meaning, of course…"

"Michiko and Itachi, dipshit. Who else? Seriously."

"Right, of course, yeah. Anyone know where?"

"Who gives a fuck? Seriously, all they need's someplace with a bed, no shit, or some other fucking flat surface." Halfway to brandishing the pike, Hidan abandoned him. Given those few integral seconds to think, Deidara came to a sudden and violent realization.

Isuki was still there.

Oh, so they were playing a game with him, was that it? Just see if Deidara does what's expected without actually giving him the opportunity to volunteer? Well, guess what? Now he wasn't going to. Oh, yes, he had been about to say he'd do it, but then they go and leave him with no choice? No. He would not be boxed into watching a little demon-child, even if earlier he had been planning on going into the box of his own volition. It was the principle of the thing.

Food. That was what he needed: food. Then he could disappear from the world again and into his room, sculpting. Maybe now would have presented the perfect opportunity to make something for Michiko. Without her around it would be exponentially easier to keep her from discovering the existence of everything he'd ever made. Simple hiding was a waste of valuable time when the person having said object hidden from them didn't see with their eyes. The only way he'd be able to hide the presence of a gift from her knowledge would be to set off a peppermint bomb in his room, and his nose couldn't take that.

He dug through the kitchen fastidiously, searching for something that presented itself as even remotely appetizing and at the same time trying to fuzz out the taste of peppermint that had materialized on his tongue. Something, perhaps, that didn't look like it would squirm away before he got it in his mouth. In a dark corner, far back from the kitchen itself, buried in the back of a cabinet, he saw something interesting. It was square, and it was pale yellow, and it looked new. Bracing one hand on the countertop and stretching onto his toes, Deidara reached for it. He came within a few thick hairs of it before his arm lost its momentum and tried to return to a more natural, less pain-filled position.

His sleeve caught on something on the way out and stopped, leaving his arm at an angle human limbs were never meant to achieve with a star-bursting sting in his arm where it felt like a nerve was being pinched against bone. When he hopped back up onto his toes he snagged the strange food on several fingernails and discovered it was spongy, clinging to his fingers. The substance was about to be brought closer to his face for closer examination when one of the lower cabinet doors opened and slammed into his shin.

His hand had started to follow the reflex reaction to be pressed firmly against the bruised flesh and released his prize when he sternly ordered it to flail uselessly in an attempt to catch it before it hit the ground. And he might have managed such a feat had he not tripped over something that had latched onto his leg and fallen over, slamming into the floor on his side. The food was now a stiff puddle near his head. Deidara scowled and lifted his head to scout out what had tripped him up.

"Deidawa, I'm hungry," Isuki pleaded, looking up at him with wide eyes.

It was disgusting how cute she was.

"Then eat, yeah," he grunted, hooking his fingers onto the edge of the counter and pulling himself back up to a standing position. The child was still attached to him, arms wrapped around his calf, legs around his ankle and sitting on his foot, staring up at him guilelessly.

"How?"

How? What was that supposed to mean? How did she eat? Like she didn't know?

"You don't know how to eat?" He took an experimental step and managed to move forward a fraction before his foot hit the floor with a dull thud. Isuki laughed and hugged his leg tighter.

"Wheeee…" she whispered, eyes screwed shut. Then they popped open again and something akin to a miniscule scowl crossed her face. "Do it again."

Deidara snorted. "No," he grumbled, pushing her off with his other foot. She rolled onto her back and curled up her legs, cocking her head to one side, giving her the appearance of a dead dog.

"Will you, play, with me? I'm, hungry."

"No." There, an answer to both proposals. Besides, weren't kids supposed to start getting smart sometime? You couldn't just enable them by giving them whatever they needed whenever they needed it. To Deidara, that was justification for what he did next.

"When you figure out how to eat, you can eat, yeah. I suppose you can just starve until then."

Isuki rolled precariously onto her feet and extended one scrawny arm to point at a cabinet. "'S up there," she squeaked. "But I don't, know, how it, works."

Deidara stared up at the killer cabinet. No way was he touching that thing again, after having his arm almost eaten. "Well then, go get it, yeah," he suggested without looking down at the child.

"You're bigger," she pointed out logically.

"Um, yes, but I won't always be here to help you, so try to get it yourself, yeah."

"Oh, okay!"

After a few futile minutes Deidara lifted her onto the countertop. "Try it from there."

Isuki stretched one arm again and barely managed to push the cabinet door open above her, tilting dangerously. She righted herself when Deidara discreetly pushed her forward again. A frown of adorably miscalculated concentration creased her small forehead. Her fingernails hardened and hooked into the seam of the wood on the inside lip of the cabinet and her feet flailed frantically for a while before she scrabbled up and sat there for a few seconds before flashing him a triumphant look and pulling herself onto the next shelf and disappearing from sight except for brief glimpses of her toes.

"It's, heavy," came her small voice.

"Well, just get it close to the edge and I'll take it, yeah." Deidara heard a scraping sound, then the bottom of that one weird thing Michiko and Itachi used on rabbits started to push out over the edge. He snatched it up before it fell off and broke or something equally catastrophic happened.

Needless to say it was… confusing. After setting it down on the counter and giving it a quick once over he still had no idea how it worked. Although, he could tell where the blood was supposed to end up because there was a glass cylinder on one side with rusty red caked to the inside, but other than that he was completely clueless. He wiggled the container thingy until it popped out of place so he could try to see how the blood got there when he saw, hidden behind the dried blood from the outside, a rolled up piece of paper. When it unfurled his shoulders tensed:

Figure it out or she'll starve. :D

Michiko

Oh, wonderful. He stuffed the paper back into the contraption carefully and stepped back, staring at it balefully. Isuki tugged on the hem of his sweater and tried to peer over the edge of the counter.

"How, does it, work?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"You can just starve until you figure it out." After all, it wasn't his job. He hadn't agreed to anything. "Go entertain yourself, yeah."

"But I'm, hungry!"

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

"Mommy said, you, were going to take, care of me."

He bent over and looked her in the eye. "Mommy is a liar."

"Oh, okay. …I'm hungry."

"Not my problem. Why don't you take a nap or something?"

"I'm not, sleepy. I'm hungry. I want, to play." The child sniffed at him and walked away. He followed, curious at the fact that she wasn't behaving as one would expect of a normal, childish child.

"So, where have you been, yeah?"

Isuki looked back at him and went off balance with the tilt of her head. "In, the cabinet."

"Why the hel– …Why were you in a cabinet?" he demanded, trying not to hate her forever for crippling his shin.

The child continued trotting merrily through the halls. "So I could, cwy."

Well, that was certainly a little more profound than he'd expected.

"Mommy and Daddy, don't like it, when I cwy. They, say it's, beneath me. But I asked, Sasori, and he said, that was just the floor." If her explanation hadn't instilled a feeling of pity in him he might have allowed himself a partial smile at that last bit. Honestly, that was just like Sasori: figurative speech was completely wasted on him. Not that he didn't understand it, oh no, not by any stretch – he merely held it in contempt.

"Why were you crying?" This conversation had definitely taken a turn for the sad. Especially because it also meant the child wasn't really becoming very conniving, or she would have responded with something more appropriate, like, "I was lying in wait for unsuspecting prey in the cabinet, just so I could shatter your pathetic leg, Deidara. Ahahahaha!" Then again, someone truly conniving would never admit all their evil plots like that.

"Because Mommy, and Daddy left and, you don't want to, watch me. No one, loves me until they, get back."

"…You do realize that they still love you while they're gone, right?"

"Of course, sillyhead! But, no one wants, me except Mommy, and Daddy."

Even that might be stretching it a bit, he mused. And his mind paused for a moment when Isuki stopped in front of a door. Then – and he could have sworn he felt his pupils dilate very suddenly – he recognized it. Oh, this was another one of those not-to-be-trusted doors, for sure.

"Isuki, what are you doing?" he asked in the tone of voice that, while still asking its prescribed question, managed to communicate the feeling, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Isuki, however, was apparently immune to the concept of a warning question. "I'm gonna, ask Sasori if he, wants to, play with me."

"Ah, that might not be such a good idea, yeah." When was the last time he had seen Sasori? Several days, was it, since he'd been out of his room? Oh, and, coincidentally, guess who else he hadn't seen for days: …Eris! What a surprise! It was such simple math. Like 2+24. Or, perhaps more appropriately, 1+12.

"Why?"

"Because… Sasori is busy, yeah. He can't play with you right now." Deidara silently congratulated himself on the wonderful excuse.

Isuki looked at him , then back at the door, then back at him, and then she sat down with finality. "Then I will wait."

Oh, that definitely wasn't good. If stubborn enough, Isuki could end up waiting for hours, seeing as neither Sasori nor Eris needed to eat. Or sleep, for that matter. "Isuki, you'll have to wait forever, yeah." He had to bite his tongue before continuing. "…I'll play with you."

"No."

"What?"

"I don't, want to play with, you anymore, you meanyhead."

Oh, was that how it was going to be? "Fine, then. I didn't really want to play with you, anyway." He gathered a good atmosphere of indignance around him and stalked off. Just to see if it had any effect, he glanced back at her over his shoulder. Her tiny arms crossed and she stuck her tongue out at him spitefully.

He went to his room. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but he didn't need to be; all he needed was a lump of clay. His fingers moved without orders, shaping, smoothing, flaring, fanning. The object that now sat in his hand was completely foreign to him – he had no idea what to call it. It didn't even look terribly much like an animal. Disheartened, he set in on the bedside table and just sat there with nothing to do. Obviously this was not a night for sculpting, or he would have made something identifiable as a real creature. The things Isuki had started bringing home did not count as real.

Maybe, just ever so slightly possibly, this would be a night for sleep. There was a chance he could get some actual rest for once. Slowly, almost warily, he lied down and stretched out. Gods that felt good.

He couldn't tell what time it was when he woke up.

It was vaguely dark, and he was vaguely warm, and something was vaguely curled up against him. He blinked heavily and propped himself up on one elbow, glanced down, planted a hand on Isuki's back and pushed her off the bed, lying back down when he heard a soft thump.

The world was still dark when he woke up again, but he could see a little better.

Deidara somehow managed to talk himself into getting out of bed, which was quite the heroic accomplishment. His stomach did most of the talking.

Bits of dust and the like clung to the bottoms of his bare feet as they flumped to the kitchen, leading the rest of him lazily. His hand was cloaked in the long sleeve of his sweater and it pushed through his rumpled hair, rubbing his eye while he yawned into his other sleeve at the elbow. The world still upheld a muzzy haze when he peered into the depths of his new arch nemesis, the cabinet, therefore turning every possible meal into an unappetizing aberration with blurred edges. Something bright caught his eye, though. Something small, almost apologetically so, and cylindrical. It sloshed around inside when he picked it up, crawling up the edges of the glass before falling away and drying. Whatever it was, it was bright, bright green.

It was probably Sasori's.

Deidara was not inherently a very trusting individual. People couldn't be trusted to give you an opportunity to volunteer, doors that were closed were most often intended to remain in that condition, and bright liquids lying around were almost without exception detrimental to one's health.

He leaned against a wall for just a moment before abandoning the safety of the kitchen for the insecurity of the halls. Those halls took on a surprisingly labyrinth-like quality immediately after he woke up, and the things turned him around several times, of that he was sure. Nonetheless he found his way to the right door. He could tell because, not only was it closed, it gave of a feeling. Nothing tangible, just a profound feeling that if he opened it he was going to be eaten alive. And he couldn't very well just leave a container that more likely than not acted as a flimsy barrier to keep some sort of acidic poison away from the world lying around, what with Isuki loose in the base.

Oh, wait, never mind, there she was, asleep on the floor outside the door. Hey, that rhymed, didn't it? Ha. All curled up on her side like that in a tight little ball…

His blink was propelled by a vaguely familiar force: guilt. At least, that was the only logical explanation, even if his logic was still half-asleep. Logic was still logic, no matter what state it was in. Just because he wasn't totally awake yet didn't mean he wasn't him, either.

He didn't know whether it was him or the logic that ignored the child and pounded the door. The tingling in his hand afterwards started to wake him up. But that didn't mean he no longer felt the need to lean against a wall. He stared at the door blankly until it whooshed away and was replaced by Sasori.

"Geez, I think this thing just curdled, yeah," he muttered, glancing down at the cylinder suspended loosely in his fingers. "I'll take the murderous glare as a, 'Shrivel and die,' then?"

The only response he received was a brusque nod and a convulsive tightening of Sasori's fingers on the doorframe and the doorknob. Then, a slight glance at the floor, which was currently inhabited by a blinking Isuki, followed by another, sharper glare.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled, pushing his hair clumsily out of his face with the end of his sweater. This had no effect, because it fell right back into place. "Shut up."

This was met with a silent laugh.

"He didn't say anything," Eris objected with a grin, hooking her chin over Sasori's shoulder. She looked down at the now yawning Isuki as well, then back up at Deidara curiously. "Shouldn't you be keeping a closer watch on that thing?" Her tone was nothing if not… distasteful.

But… but he hadn't even said anything yesterday… "How'd you…?"

"Oh, what, and goddesses aren't allowed to be omniscient anymore?" She whirled on Sasori when he sniggered. "What? I'm plenty all-knowing!" Sasori nodded placatingly, but Eris was still silently fuming.

"Um, anyway, I just found this, thought it might be yours." Deidara offered up the container on the end of his outstretched arm. Gods, it was heavier than he remembered.Sasori's eyes gleamed momentarily in the dim light before he snatched it up and held it near his eye for examination with both hands. "I wondered where this had got to," he murmured, half grinning.

"Oh, so what's it for, then?" He was really just glad that he hadn't eaten any.

Sasori had a certain air of having just been rudely interrupted when he glanced at him derisively.

"Organs."

"Oh, like pianos and stuff, yeah?" he grumbled, rubbing his eye again.

"Yes, Deidara," Eris quipped, leaning forward, "I'm sure. Hadn't you heard? Sasori doesn't need to disembowel people anymore, and has decided to take up an exciting career in repairing ghastly malformed pianos."

Suddenly he was blinking at the closed door.

It wasn't the muted speech he could hear on the other side that bothered him - it was the sudden cessation of said speech.

"Deidawa, I'm hungry," Isuki yawned, latching onto his hand and distracting his attention – which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

And… she didn't pull her tiny palm away from his.

"…Not my problem," he insisted, trying to wake up enough to be righteously annoyed.

"But, my stomach, hurts!"

He scowled and ripped his hand up toward his side, out of her fragile grasp. Before he had a chance to blink again, this time in surprise at himself, she had started to cry – little, sad tears accompanied by little, pathetic gasps.

The child wandered out of the hall slowly and looked around, sobbing all the while. "Mommy? Daddy?"

"Isuki," he ventured, "I'm… sorry." That tasted so strange in his mouth.

"Mommy?" Her tone was about to cross the line into panic, growing higher in pitch.

"Isuki, Mommy isn't here right now."

"Daddy? Mommy?"

Deidara spent the better part of that morning trying to convince Isuki that Michiko and Itachi weren't there, but would be back – hopefully – very soon. Hopefully very, very soon. Hells, maybe even soon enough that they could try to tell the stubborn brat they would be back soon.

Alas, that was a vain hope.

If he had to give the child credit for anything, it would be the energy. It must a have been some sort of pure, unrefined life source that fed her, because once she started playing she seemed to magically forget she had ever complained of hunger.

Oh, it had started simply enough. She had started to pull him in one direction by the end of his sleeve when she gurgled in shock as his hand disappeared into it. This had been closely followed by a frightened stare and profuse apologies over his missing hand. His only entertainment had been seeing the expression on her face when he pulled his sleeve up and the MIA hand popped back out like claw, grinning.

Of course, this led to fastidiously curious exploration of his sleeves, which led in turn to him being pulled around by aforementioned sleeves for hours. And she ran. Gods, how she ran. At this point he wanted nothing but to sleep – so uncharacteristically tired – which was in no way accomplished by rapid, irritatingly jerky movement. Apparently there was some sort of destination she had in mind, and he was supposed to keep her from dragging him there. After being thwarted multiple times, though, she was content with making his hand disappear for a while. About the fifth time she was peering up his sleeve his fingers burrowed into the reddish-black hair framing her face, and his palm fit rather nicely on the curve of her forehead. She had giggled and rolled her shoulders when it licked her. Her small fingers wrapped around his pinky and thumb and pulled his hand down, and she licked it back.

Gods.

Nothing had ever felt so wrong.

Worse, it had felt good. He had liked it. For just half a second before he'd recoiled and shuddered her tongue on his had felt like Michiko, but not. After having his hand stared at in profound confusion more a few more moments he offered her the end of his sleeve like a dog brings the leash to its master.

Beyond that point he was no longer playing, but merely being played with. He was no longer an active participant in the pursuit of "fun" and "entertainment". After not too long it was just plain annoying.

She insisted they had to finish before he could go, but she wouldn't let him give up. And – and, when he withdrew his other arm and "let" her accidentally pull the entire sweater off over his head, she proclaimed him a cheater and kicked him in the shin.

After sleep-deprivation, exhaustion, and dim light that strained his eyes, and now a twice-battered shin, Deidara was done.

"I'm going to sleep now." It seemed appropriate to mutter dully after scaring the child half to death muttering vehemently about how her spine was coming out through her nose the second feeling returned to his leg.

It didn't even make sense! She hadn't kicked him that hard, but the bruise was already greenish-yellow. And his skin was dry, and patches were flaking off. He had gotten real sleep for the first time in days; why was he so tired? Grumbling and rubbing the bridge of his nose before moving his fist to his eye, he found his room, unaware of the soft padding of bare feet behind him.

The mattress sunk under his knee before he flopped onto it with resignation and rolled over, sprawled slightly.

"Deidawa?"

Dear gods, what now?

"Can I, sleep in here, tonight?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Sleep in your room, yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it's yours."

"Why?"

"I don't know! Go away!"

Just a sniffle. "Pwease?"

"No."

"But I'm scared."

"Why, yeah?"

"Because my, room is scary."

"…Fine." He didn't have the energy to argue with the stubborn, mulish, bolshie child.

A slight creak of crappy mattress springs, but he didn't roll over to check on her. He did, however, get the idea to stuff his pillow between them, just in case she got any ideas about cuddling, or snuggling, or any other cutesy act that would result in his losing body heat.

"…Deidawa?"

"Wha-ha-ha-ha-hat?" he whined, begging any merciful god who happened to be listening to just kill him then and there.

"I'm hungry. And," she added before he could groan out an appropriate response, "I don't know, how."

"Then I guess you'll just starve until Mommy and Daddy get back, yeah." Damn them. Damn them both. Oh, yes, he was going to have a nice little rant with Mommy and Daddy when they got back. …Well, maybe with Mommy; best to avoid Daddy like the plague.

"..Deidawa?"

"Please, just take me now," he sobbed quietly. "What?"

"I'm cold."

"Not my problem." He was deeply satisfied with the lack of response.

Then the chittering of the teeth started. Followed by the rustling of the fabric as she squirmed restlessly. Followed by the pillow being shoved repeatedly against his back as she rammed into it in her quest for warmth.

Groaning, he rolled over, snatched his pillow back under his head, hooked an arm around her stomach and pulled the little monstrosity up to his chest.

"Happy now? Good."

And he fell asleep without waiting for so much as a "thank you".

It was darker when he woke up than when he had fallen asleep. He was also colder than usual, especially his right fingers.

He moved to rub his eye with his fist so he could get a better look-see, but he couldn't move his hand. Well, he could move it; it just didn't get any closer. Oh: Isuki's head rested on his stomach, and her small arms were cuddling his arm.

And she was sucking his wrist.

He could barely curl his leg to push her away with his foot, and even when he managed that she merely slipped over the edge of the mattress, dragging him along with her by the wrist. He utterly failed to jerk his arm back, forced to be satisfied pulling it closer to him slowly until the child popped off and fell back on the floor.

His arm was shaking. He clamped a hand over his wrist before he was forced to look at the bloody gaping mess he knew would be there: he had seen Itachi after the first time Michiko fed off him. And the second time, too, come to think of it.

Itachi had scars from that.

"Deidawa," Isuki yawned, "I'm hungry."

He simply snorted, withdrawing under the blankets. Gods, his fingers kept slipping off his wrist – all warm and slicked with blood. He rolled over with difficulty, shivered under the heavy blankets. Pain spiked his head when Isuki dragged the blankets back a little.

"Deidawa, what's wong?" He managed to turn his head back and glare at her.

"You look, sick," she informed him with concern.

"No shit," he grumbled, snorting again and turning away. He heard her footsteps retreat and sighed. One less thing to panic about. Sans the blood, life was peaceful for just a few minutes. Less movement, lower pulse; lower pulse, less blood. Everything made sense.

Until, that is, the demon spawn returned.

"Deidawa, Sasori won't, come." He groaned and seized the blankets when Isuki tugged on them urgently. "You will, go see him?"

"No," he grumbled, finding his way out from under the covers only to fail glaring at her. "Just need food, sleep, be fine…"

"I, can get, food."

"No. Feed, myself, food, just fine."

"…You're eye is, funny."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Don't you, play, or something…?" he suggested, gathering the blankets around him like a cocoon. And through sheer momentum he ended up standing. Albeit a bit wobbly and pained, but still standing.

Gods, it was cold. And dark. Why the hells was it so damned dark? He could hardly see 10 feet in front of him. What was that about? Was it three in the morning or something? He was certainly tired enough to believe that. He hugged the blankets securely, trying to garner all the warmth possible from the thick folds as he walked. Slowly.

Deidara was almost to the main hall when his legs told him that the floor was starting to look really comfortable.

He didn't have much of an appetite, but he was starving. He wasn't sleep-deprived, but he was completely worn out. Life had stopped making sense, and now his mind was siding with his legs and ganging up on him.

Sleep, it was saying. Sleep, you bastard. We need sleep!

How could he refuse?

He was awakened viciously when light burned his eyes through closed eyelids.

More pain told him that blinking only made it worse, allowing brief flashes of light to pierce his skull right behind the eyes and go out the other side. Best to just keep them closed and wait for it to pass. No, even better, make it pass.

"Gods, that's bright!" he hissed, hiding his vision behind one arm.

The lights disappeared.

"Why is it so dark, yeah?"

The lights turned back on.

"Dammit! The hells' wrong with you?"

"Fuck, would you just make up your mind?" Oh. Hidan. How wonderful. "Seriously, what kind of shit is this? Did you pass out or something?" The light went away.

"No," he grumbled, peeling his arm away from his face gingerly and glancing around. It did him no good; it was almost pitch black. "I did not…" he held his head briefly. "Pass out."

"Oh, what, you just fell asleep in the middle of the fucking floor?"

"Yeah."

"Where people walk? Yeah, right; you totally fainted, you baby."

"No." Deidara had just begun to sit up tentatively and actively wonder why he couldn't really see all that clearly anymore.

The lights flicked on.

"Aaaargh!"

The light went away.

"Stop it, yeah. Gods, that hurts like –"

The lights came back.

"Gah! Would you – Ah! – Dammit, Hidan, I swear I'll – Mmgn! – I'm going to kill – Ack!"

He could feel his eyes starting to water.

"Ha: baby."

Deidara almost responded to this unfair accusation when Hidan took the liberty of restarting another topic entirely before he could finish the second "s" in "Piss off."

"Whoaly shit! That's seriously not right. You're crying –"

"No, I am not," he spat, rubbing his eye tenderly.

"No, you didn't fucking let me finish." Hidan sounded almost excited as his voice retreated, along with fast footfalls.

"Hey, guys, come see this! Deidara's crying pus!"

Apparently he had pas— fallen asleep again, because without that first part of the sequence it might be considered rather difficult to wake up. Magically in his own bed again. How lovely. He could almost fall asleep…

"Deidawa!"

Dammit…

"You, woke up!"

"'Course," he grumbled, rolling over to examine the blood-letting demon child critically. "Just sleep, yeah…"

He could see. It wasn't too dark, and it wasn't blindingly bright. He could actually see the child. His vision moved to dart around the rest of the room and revel in the return of normal lighting when they stopped briefly on something that made his heart rate spike dramatically:

Sasori.

It would have been perfectly fine if he had had the decency to look pissed off for being torn away from Eris, or maybe even wear a smirk brimming with subdued evil intent, but he look bored. Bad things happened when Sasori was bored. Bad things happened because either, a.) He was going to find something entertaining to do to someone or b.) He had gone through homicidal rage and passed out the other side and someone was going find themselves very dead very soon. Plus, he appeared to be holding something in his pocket, and that meant he didn't want it to be seen, and if a violent criminal who lives with other violent criminals doesn't want those other violent criminals to see something, it has to be bad.

"Sleep," Deidara reiterated, risking another wary glance at Sasori before turning his attention back to the smiling child. "'D be fine if… if you hadn't, hadn't drained me…" He had to lie down again, put his head back. "Little monster, yeah."

"That's not, fair! You said, I had to find, out how to eat."

Had he? Hm, he only vaguely remembered anything of the sort. He didn't put that much concentration into remembering that much, though, because watching Sasori fidget apathetically was taking most of his conscious effort. It worried him. Sasori must have noticed, because he grinned.

But his eyes weren't smiling.

"Isuki, dear child, would you please leave for a moment?" Sasori inquired courteously. "It won't be long. Why don't you go find a rabbit?"

Isuki glanced at Deidara again, and he found himself willing her to stay and not leave him alone with a psychopathic killer, despite how much he had longed for her disappearance earlier. The child did not pick up the silent screams for mercy, however, and flashed him a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek before darting away and shutting the door behind her.

Just perfect. Now he had no witness.

"You're going to die."

"Need sleep," he argued quietly, rolling to face the wall. "Regenerate blood."

"That's not going to help. Actually, scratch that; it will help, just not enough. You need more than sleep."

"Need blood," Deidara grumbled.

"Yes, but not just blood, because blood won't help your vitamin deficiencies."

His eyebrows lowered in confusion. "What?" he demanded, turning back to Sasori and finding the puppet master looming next the bed, making him feel all short and sickly. "Was just blood, she took."

This elicited the smirk, but now it was almost as unwelcome as the boredom had been. "Of course, Deidara. But where are the majority of vitamins held?"

"…Blood?"

"Good dog. And, to forestall your next question: no, this did not happen to Itachi."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Michiko must have done something different. Maybe she knew what she was doing, maybe she didn't take this much… Point is, it's happened to you, and you need a shot."

"No. Just sleep."

"Didn't we just go over this?"

"Don't need shot, sleep." Deidara was partially aware that he had begun to hyperventilate. "How do we know, deficiency, anyway?" he dismissed amid nervous laughter.

"Deidara, I know. I've given people vitamin deficiencies, and you have a few."

"Oh? Sure?"

"Well given the fact that you," Sasori paused and took a deep breath, "have lost your night vision, have increased sensitivity to bright light, are crying pus, have scaly and dry skin, patches of skin flaking off, reddened lips that are cracking at the corners, a swollen tongue, difficulty walking, bruised, irritable, sore, and weak, I'd say it's a pretty good shot you have multiple vitamin deficiencies. Oh, wait a second." He ripped the blankets back. "And skin lesions. Yes, I know they look like sunburns."

"…Sleep."

"I suppose, if you wanted to be sure…"

Deidara shot him another wary glance out of the corner of his eye.

"We could just wait until you go blind."

"What?"

"Oh, yes, didn't I mention that? If you don't get better soon your eye muscles will become paralyzed, your eyes will swell, your eyelids will be sealed shut, and they will fill with pus? As you can probably imagine, they're much more likely to become infected that way… So, the shot now?"

Deidara watched as Sasori pulled his hand out of his pocket and betrayed a long, long needle. He shrank back against the wall.

"…You're scared of needles, aren't you?" Sasori asked with a smirk, squeezing a droplet of something out the tip until it beaded and fell to its doom, like a fatted calf to the slaughter.

"N-no, yeah."

"There's really nothing to be worried about, Deidara. Here, just think of it like this: I am going to count to five, then stab you with a large, sharp metal object."

He laughed weakly.

"One."

Deidara hesitated, wondering if he was serious.

"Two."

He swallowed, wincing at the pain in his throat.

"Three."

He weighed the pros and cons of going blind.

"Four."

Stab.

"Bastard!" Deidara screamed, clutching his burning thigh as his vision started to disappear again. "You didn't count to five!"

"I rounded up."

Deidara woke up when he hit the floor drowning in blanket.

And it felt good. It felt. He was breathing normally, and everything just felt… normal.

Normalcy had never felt so good. Being balanced had never been something he was very good at.

He felt like… he wanted to get back in bed. The new element was that he now had the energy and will to clamber up the side of the bed and flop down in semi-exhaustion, tugging the blankets up behind him. He was loathe to even think the word "snuggle" but digging back under the covers required such actions.

"Hey."

Funny: he could have sworn he just heard Michiko. Did that mean he had another one of damned deficiency thingies? Perhaps the one Sasori had said he was lucky not to have?

"Yes, it brings dementia in a variety of fun flavors, like general nervousness, confusion, apathy, and the ever-popular delirium. And, since it's mostly seen in drug addicts and severe alcoholics, guess what everyone will think you've been doing in your spare time."

So, it was delirium then, eh? Auditory hallucinations? That couldn't be good: Sasori had run out of that stuff he'd found.

"I thought you said it was for organs, yeah?"

"I lied. Eris just wanted to use the piano joke."

Deidara rolled over and started to sleep, but something shoved his shoulder.

"I was talking to you."

"Whu…?" he muttered, feigning sleep in hopes that he would be left alone to recuperate. Then he realized it was Michiko, come to save him from this hell. He reached out and hugged her neck before he actually registered what he was doing. "Thank gods! I know!" he almost sobbed, pulling her closer. "I know why you escaped!"

Michiko deigned to be hugged for a few moments before wresting his arms off her neck. "Was it really all that bad?"

"Um, no," he lied, sweeping back the covers and half leaping out of bed, all so he could not look like a sickly germ and enfold one of her hands in both of his. "She was wonderful, a perfect darling."

Michiko snorted and pulled her hand back, crossing her arms. "Really? Then I cannot fathom why she's such a terrible little hell-child when I'm here." Her eyes flicked derisively over where she couldn't see him.

"Oh. Well, in that case, yes, it was the most horrifying experience of my life, yeah. I envy you for not having broken years ago. …Do you feel, erm, refreshed, after your… vacation?"

"Yes," Michiko answered with quiet satisfaction. "I'm tired as hells."

"Ah."

"This," she continued, hooking one arm around his neck and stretching the other out in front of both of them, where he could see it and she couldn't. "This was sweet."

The little burnt doll rested crisply in the palm of her hand.

"You did good," she whispered in his ear, along with a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks."

"Um, you're welcome…?" he mumbled. No, don't tell Michiko you almost died because of her demon spawn. That would be bad form. Let her think you can handle a four year old girl, at least. "Do you want to… get some breakfast or something?"

Her black eyes lit up as she beamed at him with a pointed smile.

"Absolutely. I'm starving."