A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys but I wanted this chapter to be perfect! A huge thanks to those of you who reviewed! I really appreciate hearing your thoughts and they are an excellent motivator!

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto in any way, shape or form.

Chapter 3: The Wrong Kind of Attention

In one sweeping motion, Sakura cast off the hood of her sopping wet cloak as the heavy, wooden door slammed shut behind her. The incessant patter of raindrops subsided almost instantly. A small smile ghosted across her lips as she allowed herself the satisfaction of knowing that the rain at least was one thing less to endure. The inn looked pleasant enough. A motley collection of rickety tables and squashy armchairs dominated the space by the fire while several hard, wooden tables flanked the right-hand wall. Several locals, she noticed had raised their heads from their tankards at the intrusion just long enough to note her presence before returning to more important matters.

Sakura doubted that here, near the edge of the Fire country she was likely to find trouble.

However in spite of her concrete beliefs she was unwilling to follow her own advice. Her sharp, green eyes continued to dart about the room, searching for anyone that might have taken an undue interest in her arrival. Upon discovering none the medic traipsed over to the bar cautiously, relaxing her tightly furled fists as she did so. She was being overly suspicious, she chided herself silently. She could attract the wrong kind of attention if she wasn't careful.

The three-legged stool squeaked in protest as she sat down at the bar next to a dark-haired man wearing a heavy cloak, much the same as her own. She spared him a passing glance, noting the way his black hair was gathered into a loose ponytail and the mostly-full bottle of sake next to him before turning her attention to the seedy bartender.

"A glass of vodka and lemonade please," she said once he'd thrown down the rag he used to clean the glasses and sidled over to her position at the bar. He gazed at her a second longer than necessary before going to make her drink. She gripped the edge of her stool hard and stared at the floor, not liking the way he'd appeared to drink in her features in the brief moment she taken to order. Her fringe lay plastered to her forehead while the rest of it passed as a good imitation of a bird's nest and she was certain her face was dirty after two nights of sleeping in caves. She shook her head disbelievingly. It was hard to believe that there were still perverts in the world after everything that had happened.

Half a minute later the bartender set down the glass on the burnished counter, jerking her out of her reverie.

"Thanks," she said a fraction of a second before realising that he'd taken the opportunity to undress her with his eyes yet again. Practically seething with anger, she sent him a scathing look which resulted in him scuttling away towards another potential customer at the other end of the bar. With a sense of vindictive pleasure, she lowered her eyes to the bubbling liquid and took an innocent sip before relapsing into her previous state of despair.

Dwelling on the fate of her friends – Ino especially – was fast becoming an unwelcome habit of hers. Something that despite the necessity of planning her next move usually resulted in her whiling away the rest of the night in a state of absolute misery. And despite what anyone else might think, it was something she was determined to avoid.

Since she had all but barred herself from wallowing in self-pity, she took the chance to observe the crowded, smoky room and its intoxicated inhabitants. Swilling her small glass absentmindedly, she amused herself for a few moments in guessing which customers were regulars and who was likely to win the drinking contest at one of the long, wooden tables. Eventually her eyes fell on her silent companion whom she was certain had not moved a muscle since she'd sat down at the bar. Suspiciously, his drink appeared to be untouched and Sakura found the expression he wore on his face not reassuring. His dark eyes were fixed resolutely ahead, curiously wide and unseeing. Even though she was positive she'd never laid eyes on him before there was something almost familiar about him. Unaware of coming to a conscious decision, she set down her drink and watched him interestedly, noting the way his fingers curled in defiance at something that existed only in his head. A brief grimace of pain flashed across his troubled features so fast that if she'd blinked she would have missed it.

"Are you alright?" It was not necessary for her to ask but she felt obliged to considering that they had sat next to each other for the last half hour.

"I'm fine thank you," the stranger replied curtly, once he'd recovered from his initial surprise. His abrupt and rude manner suggested that he was averse to her in some way but after scrutinising him for the last couple of minutes Sakura believed that whatever seemed to be troubling him was the real reason. His pained expression touched closely upon the medic's own emotions and despite her better judgement, she felt a sudden kinship to the man garbed in black.

"Great," she said unconvincingly, refusing to be dissuaded by his distinct unsociable air. This time he didn't even bother reply. His stare became more pronounced and perhaps more uncomfortable than before, if possible. Apparently he was expecting her to continue but it couldn't have been clearer that this was a conversation he was keen to avoid. "You've hardly touched your drink, you know," she said, wondering what she'd done to deserve such hostility. "I heard that one's supposed to be quite good but I haven't tried-"

"Do you have a compulsive need to interrogate complete strangers or just a total disregard for their feelings?" he interjected smoothly, lips quirked up into an infuriating smirk. As was his intention, the words succeeded in riling her though she wasn't incensed enough to overlook the disappearance of his indifferent facade.

"Do you make a habit of insulting everyone you meet?"

"Not usually no". He seemed amused.

Sakura didn't deign to reply. Instead she returned to her drink which she deemed safer than exchanging words with the sharp-tongued stranger. After several minutes of silence she relaxed, confident that the conversation had been crippled indefinitely. She didn't dare look his way again. If she had though, she would have seen the contemplative expression dominating his features as he continued to observe her silently.

It was half-way through ordering her fourth drink that Sakura realised with some chagrin that her purse was alarmingly empty. Of course she hadn't had time to draw more from the bank before she left, she scolded herself mentally. It was amazing that such a perilously low amount had escaped her notice before now. For one second she was struck by an insane desire to return to Konoha and collect the rest of her savings which she realised would have undoubtedly been added to the Hokage's funds by now. A completely justified stab of white-hot anger washed over her. She was unaware that her fists were clenched so tightly they would have broken the empty glass, had she not set it down a minute earlier. It was then that she realised the bartender was still waiting.

It was no use. She was going to have to ask him.

Aware of the impatient gaze boring into her back, she turned to the man whom she swore she'd never speak to again.

"Er, can I borrow-"

Wordlessly, he handed some coins over as Sakura fought to control a rising blush.

"Thanks," she said, trying to keep her tone from sounding resentful.

"You're welcome," he said, sounding thoroughly amused.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, more to break the tension than anything. She shifted into a more comfortable position on the stool, well aware that his surprisingly intense expression was making her nervous.

"No," the smooth velvety tones seemed to enhance his crooked smirk but she sensed no real malice behind it. Rather, he appeared to be enjoying a very private joke. "You don't strike me as a regular either".

The medic ignored his subtle poke at her background, hurriedly sipping her drink in an attempt to deflect his statement. He had guessed – correctly – that she was not the kind to stumble across a random bar and mingle with strangers but she saw no reason to clarify the matter. She hadn't had that much to drink.

"Well these are strange times," she said with a wry smile that was completely devoid of humour.

"Is that so?" he countered smoothly. His eyes probed hers searchingly, willing her to answer his unspoken questions.

"Well you must have at least heard about this country's new Hokage?" Sakura answered, breaking eye contact with him, suddenly very interested in her half-empty glass which merely bubbled unhelpfully in response. She was reluctant to share any information with the inquisitive stranger whose dark eyes left her exceedingly confused and unsure.

Hokage. She clenched her teeth. The very word was enough to rekindle the white-hot fury that lay dormant under her thinly-erected sheet of composure.

"I admit I had heard something," he replied, seemingly oblivious to her barely restrained emotions. "You don't appear to approve of him very much".

So he had noticed after all.

"Let's just say you'd do better to keep your distance from that place right now," she said. There was no mistaking the weight in her words this time but if she thought that would dissuade him she was wrong.

"Why is that?" he asked, something more than curiosity glinting in his dark onyx eyes.

But Sakura seemed to think that she'd said enough for she shook her head despondently, eyes cast downwards. "There have been a lot of changes," she said after a while. "What did you say your name was?"

There was a brief pause.

"Itsuo," he said, watching her closely. "It wasn't my intention to pry, I assure you. I visited Konoha once, long ago".

Sakura nodded, barely acknowledging his explanation. She stood up abruptly, almost knocking the stool over in her haste.

"I have to use the bathroom," she apologised. Whether she meant it or not was another matter, one that even in her own mind she had trouble deciphering. His character was difficult to pin and that coupled with a knack for making her uneasy meant that she was not entirely sorry she had to cut the conversation short.

She had almost passed him when he decided to speak. "You didn't tell me your name".

"I-," she floundered, caught off-guard by the innocently posed question. "It's Sakura," she said, desperate to escape what she imagined was a rather self-satisfied look. Inwardly, she berated herself for not coming up with a false name quickly enough. The cheap, wooden saloon doors swung angrily behind her as she stormed into the toilets with a face like thunder.

Once the irate kunoichi had disappeared from sight Itachi began to laugh silently. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisaged a scenario in which he shared a drink with the former Hokage's apprentice. She was nothing like he'd expected. Her wide, open expressions were decidedly easy to read and she appeared to have inherited Tsunade's legendary temper. Although she managed to exude an air of secrecy by refusing to divulge the recent events in Konoha which he had to admit was extremely frustrating.

He pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. Meeting the medic had definitely thrown a wrench in his plans, if he was to ignore the tiny detail that he'd never had any plans to begin with. This was highly unusual for the Uchiha as he made it his top priority to have every scenario mapped out, to be prepared for every eventuality. Of course, that was all under the assumption that he'd remain dead.

Itachi sighed into his glass, reluctant to follow that train of thought further. There was nothing more he could do for Sasuke. He would be a fool to live by his regrets; to be utterly trapped in a never-ending circle of guilt and helplessness. He would do better to discard his crushed hopes and dreams and salvage something good from the smouldering wreck that was his life. Only nothing seemed worthwhile these days. He'd lost everything that mattered.

A loud squeak emitted from the cheap saloon doors – which were in dire need of oiling – effectively interrupting his musings as he looked up from his glass long enough to note a short, stout woman – who was impossible to mistake for Sakura – pass between them. Unbidden a brief image of the rain-sodden, dirt-streaked medic flashed before his eyes. He remembered the impotent expression in her eyes when she thought no one was looking, her faked nonchalance, the bitterness she felt towards her village. He had to admit he'd been rather taken aback after she'd addressed him so informally, inquiring after his health in such a manner as one would around friends. He wondered vaguely if it was simply the result of a particularly naive personality or that Konoha's standards had slipped in his absence; he'd been away so long he couldn't really tell anymore.

Over the course of the evening he had toyed with the idea of accompanying her on her journey, providing she'd consent to it. The arrangement would be advantageous for several reasons; the first being that he suspected Sakura knew where the base of her fellow fugitives was hidden, the second that she had a close relationship with the Kyuubi host and if there was anyone who could assist him in overthrowing Danzou, it was Naruto. However there were several flaws to this plan. Itachi would have to refrain from using the sharingan in Sakura's presence, upon arriving at the base it would be highly likely that Naruto would recognise him and based on tonight's performance, she could prove to be more of a hindrance than a help when it came to evading enemy shinobi.

He ran his fingers over his face tiredly. It was just a matter of concealing his identity from her long enough for her to trust him.

As if on cue, Sakura stumbled out of the bathroom looking slightly more presentable than before. Her face was clean and she'd obviously made an attempt to tame her wild, tangled hair. She sat down on the stool, a little wobbly. Itachi thought she looked a little paler than before. He was mildly surprised when she did not swivel in his direction and engage in conversation again, though on second thoughts perhaps her sudden exit to the bathroom was simply an excuse to dodge further questions rather than any real need to use it. Following her line of sight, he saw that her immediate goal was to catch the bartender's attention, or at least he presumed so by the way she continued to stare at him rigidly. To his disgust, it took only a few seconds for the sandy, unshaven man to catch her gaze and saunter over to their position.

"A glass of-," she began before Itachi decided to intervene.

"No, I think you've had quite enough to drink," he said, shooting the bartender a warning glare before turning back to the intoxicated medic.

"Oh?" She raised a pale pink eyebrow. "Since when has it been up to you to decide when I've reached my limit, Itsuo?" When he made no reply, she huffed irritably and turned her attention back to the bartender. "Ignore him. Can I have the same as last time please?"

"And how are you going to pay for it?" Itachi countered, deliberately ignoring the almost tangible desire to consume enough alcohol to spend the evening in a state of ignorant bliss emitting from the desperate medic. The idea was an attractive one he had to admit but as a shinobi she should know better than to use drink to solve her problems. She was however right on one account. What she chose to do with her time was none of his business but that did not mean he should tolerate such actions by supplying her with the money for it.

At his words, Sakura slumped forwards in her seat; a clear sign of defeat.

"You'll thank me later".

"Not likely," she grumbled in response, not bothering to re-establish eye contact with him.

He supposed he should be glad that she hadn't lashed out at him as some people were prone to do under the influence. At any rate, he was disinclined to the idea of a pub brawl which aside from resulting in a hefty bill for breakages could attract unwanted attention which could prove disastrous.

He glanced her way. She was staring resolutely at the wooden counter, a sullen expression on her face. Itachi could vaguely comprehend her turmoil through tiny, inconsequential actions and expressions such as a clenched jaw, a small shudder or the frightened rabbit look that had crossed her face on a couple of occasions. Something had shaken her that was clear. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say it had something to do with Konoha. Or Konoha's new Hokage to be specific. Perhaps he shouldn't have judged her so harshly, he mused.

At that moment, the dark-haired man spotted the owner of the Inn who had emerged from a back room to have a few words with the bartender. It struck him then that he hadn't yet reported the absence of clean towels in his room. Straightening up, he strode over to the owner; a portly, mousy-haired man and engaged him in conversation. Behind his back, Sakura cast a furtive glance in his direction before pouring a generous portion of his sake into her glass.

The significantly lower amount of Sake did not escape his attention upon returning to his seat but he refrained from commenting on the matter. It was none of his business after all.

The chill night air clung to the nape of Sakura's exposed neck and dew formed on the hem of her cloak, slowly soaking the dark material. Of these discomforts the medic was not even remotely aware considering that her intoxicated state had all but vanquished the sensation of cold. Her body granted the illusion of producing heat in vast quantities so it was actually quite pleasant to sit on the freezing stone step and gaze contentedly at the stars.

The rain had finally abated, leaving treacherous muddy roads and a pungent earthly smell behind. Thank heaven for small mercies. She'd endured enough rain to last a lifetime. Absentmindedly she drew a pattern in the soft, squidgy earth attempting to withhold the nausea that had plagued her from the moment the fresh, clean air hit her face. She took several deep, steadying gasps in an attempt to dispel the sudden unpleasant reaction brought on by roughly nine units of alcohol. A sudden uncontrollable wave hit her and she stumbled drunkenly towards a couple of heavy iron bins conveniently in the vicinity. It was at that moment that she decided never to drink again.

Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she resumed her position on the chilly step feeling slightly better. The after-effects were gradually wearing off and were taken place by a growing sensation of embarrassment and horror. There was no denying that she had been extremely rude towards Itsuo. Asking to borrow his money while knowing full well that she couldn't pay him back and stealing his Sake – out of desperation to keep her fears at bay – when he wasn't looking; what the hell had she been thinking? It was the kind of behaviour that Sakura had frowned upon in Konoha and placing the blame upon her intoxicated state just didn't cut it. Why, oh why hadn't she the common sense to keep her mouth shut?

Pink, candy-coloured locks formed a veil over her face as she hugged her knees anxiously. She was a total wreck.

She did not know how long she sat there. What felt like minutes later but could have in fact been hours, the door behind her creaked open. Warm, bright light spilled out over the step like liquid gold as someone exited the inn. Instead of the unknown stranger skirting around her, she felt an unexpected presence at her side. Slowly she raised her head. It was Itsuo.

"I thought you might need some assistance," he said by way of explanation. "Can I sit down?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching into a half-hearted smile.

Cowed by her mortification, she lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence. A chill breeze had picked up rustling the leaves of the sparse trees that littered the area. Sakura shivered. Though she was by no means sober, the effects of her drinking spree had lessened somewhat and she was able to think clearly, or at least she thought so. For the first time since she had met Itsuo she was on guard. Questions such as why he had taken such an interest in her bubbled to the forefront of her mind. After all, what stranger would lend her money and follow her outside on the pretence of being worried about her? From her experience it meant that they were only interested in one thing. Sex. But he had prevented her from drinking anymore hadn't he? Surely that would be counter-productive if his true motive had been to indulge in an evening of rampant sex with a young, wasted medic no longer under the protection of her village – easy prey in other words.

So if not sex, what was it he wanted?

She watched the man in question for some minutes. His dark, long hair was slung casually over one shoulder, his gaze was fixed straight ahead and his position was that of a man content to remain in that pose for another hour. If they were going to have a conversation it would have be her that initiated it she realised.

"I'm sorry I'm not very good company," she spoke to her knees.

"Am I any better?" Itsuo said out loud, momentarily deviating from his surveillance of the stars to glance her way.

"You're not the one that steals other people's drinks," she pointed out. He smiled. "How long have I been out here anyway?"

"A couple of hours".

"Two hours?" she repeated, rather shocked that what felt like half an hour had in reality been two.

"That's what I said," he replied which she ignored, standing up so fast she felt dizzy. "Where are you going?"

"Inside," the medic said distractedly, gathering up her cloak and reaching for her bag but it wasn't there. She spun on the spot, scouring the ground for the elusive satchel with growing panic. Suddenly she spied it in his hand. "Give me my bag back, Itsuo," her tone taking on a hard edge.

"On one condition," he raised a finger to emphasise the point. "You inform me of the most recent goings on in Konoha. I am rather curious I have to admit about your abrupt departure from the village". From the look of outraged amazement on her face he continued, "Look, it's fairly obvious that whatever your reasons you weren't given a choice. You mentioned there have been a lot of changes to the village. No doubt that will have created some political tension between those that favoured the new and old. I guess you were unfortunate enough to be on the losing side".

"Screw you," she snarled snatching the bag from his loose fingers and hoisting it over her shoulder. It had greatly surprised her how astute his perceptions of her predicament were but she had no time to be impressed by his observations. In fact his superior manner – whether intentional or not – had a knack for getting under her skin. It felt rather like he was mocking her. A few wood shavings fluttered to the floor as she yanked the door open with the force of a battering ram.

Itachi stared at the spot where she'd vanished stoically. He had not meant to upset her in such a way though on reflection perhaps he had come across as rather callous. Her reaction had surprised him though he didn't show it. Vaguely he wondered if he should follow her before dismissing it with a shake of his head. It was almost certain that what had started out as a reasonable plan was now doomed to failure.

Sakura unpacked up the last of her sodden items from the rucksack and hung them on the small, rustic radiator that was included in her tiny rented room. According to the owner she'd been lucky even to acquire this room for the night as they were fully-booked. The customer who'd reserved this room had never showed so in a moment of compassion he'd granted her the room for the night, unlike the bartender who'd probably only let her have the room if she'd agreed to allow him a quick peek at her breasts.

"Pig," she shook her head disgustedly.

Gingerly, she peeled off her mud-caked garments and chucked them in the sink before jumping into the tiny, cast-iron bath to enjoy a well-earned, refreshing soak. Soft, insubstantial tendrils of vapour rose up from the steamy water, swirling into interesting shapes as she watched. It was satisfying to watch but not a patch on the sensation of feeling clean again. When the bubbles had almost gone and her fingers were beginning to shrivel, she heard a knock at the door.

With a sigh, she reached for a snowy-white towel and wrapped it securely around her dripping form, careful not to slop a load of water over the floorboards as she extricated herself from the bath.

"Who is it?" she called as she hurried towards the door, slightly annoyed at the intrusion. There was a pause.

"It's me".

There was no need to ask who that voice belonged to.

"Go away," she said through the door.

"I have one thing to say first".

Sakura considered saying no but then relented. The door was locked. If worse came to worse she could simply ignore the man. "Let's hear it then".

"Can't you open the door?" He sounded rather exasperated.

"Fine," she sighed wondering why she gave in so easily. She reached over to unhook the thin chain and turn the brass handle. Instantly, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was standing before him wrapped in nothing more than one of the inn's complimentary bath towels. She folded her arms across her chest irritably, hoping to hide her discomfort. "You have one minute".

At the sound of her words, he appeared to regain his composure and she was pleased to see that he addressed her directly, rather than stare unabashed at the flimsy towel. She wondered if she should re-evaluate her ugly opinion of him slightly.

"Don't worry; I shall not discuss the topic of your village again," he reassured her. "It was..." he searched for a word, "thoughtless of me. I do however have a proposition for you".

"Oh?" The medic asked wearily, accepting that the apology was the best she was going to get but unwilling to prolong the conversation any longer than necessary.

"I wish to accompany you on your journey," he said smoothly as though expecting her to consider the matter.

The request threw her completely off guard and it was all she could to gape unattractively at him for a few seconds before suddenly finding her voice.

"You're out of your mind," she snarled, slamming the door on what she thought was a very arrogant expression.

Once she was sure he'd gone she leant heavily against the door, breathing like a winded rhinoceros. Her tousled rose-coloured hair fell over her face, hiding her expression of enraged incredulity. How dare he, she fumed inwardly. How dare he have the audacity to voice such a request after all he'd said? Was that what he'd been angling after all along? Or was it perhaps to do with the state of her village that had first interested him?

"What does it matter?" she said aloud. "I'll leave as soon as it's light. He won't be a problem".

Of one thing she was certain: she would rather die than travel with him as a partner. And with a bit of luck, she'd never have to see him again.

A/N: Please review :)