Vespertine

Chapter Three: The Healer and Her Patient


The perception that divides you from him is a lie.

For some reason, you never asked why.

This is not a black and white world.


It wasn't hard to convince Junko to release Itachi into her care. Sakura had a feeling they were more than glad to be rid of him.

"It turns out we know each other," she said, after explaining Itachi's illness and showing her the article in her book—over which the older doctor practically drooled. At least someone appreciated the value of it. "We're from the same village." She put on a sheepish smile. "Sorry I didn't say anything before. I had a feeling when you described him, but I wanted to make sure."

"Why didn't he say anything?" Junko wondered. "We could have contacted Konoha for him."

"He was probably worried that his enemies would come to finish him off if word got out he was here," she reasoned, shrugging slightly. "I'm lucky to have found him; he's been missing for a while. Konoha's had no word of him since the battle almost a month ago." It was true enough, and the best way to lie is to incorporate as much truth as possible.

Junko accepted her explanation.. "And now you're going to take him back to Konoha."

"Actually, not yet…I'm going to heal him before we return."

"You can cure him? How?"

"With medical ninjutsu," she explained. "By converting my chakra into healing energy. Just like my shishou." She channeled chakra to her fingertips and held them up for view.

Junko stared wide-eyed at Sakura's glowing hand. "It amazes me every time I see it. One of these days you medical ninjas will put us normal doctors out of work."

"That's unlikely. Medic nins are uncommon; it requires a level of chakra control that most shinobi can never master." She couldn't conceal the note of pride in her voice. "Anyway, I don't plan to treat him here. Some very dangerous people might be looking for him, and we're not going to endanger you or the other nurses by remaining in the clinic."

"And what about your safety?"

Sakura smiled thinly. "I can protect myself." In most cases, it was true. Against Akatsuki…she really didn't know. She just hoped they continued to believe Itachi was dead.

"You really do remind me of Lady Tsunade," Junko mused nostalgically. "Well, you're a brave girl for taking him on alone, in any case."

"I've dealt with worse patients than him, believe me. He's not so bad, just out of sorts here. Shinobi are naturally distrustful of strangers. We have to be. And we don't like to be at anyone's mercy," she explained casually. Inside she was laughing at herself for making excuses for an s-class criminal's bad behavior.

Junko gave her a long, almost pitying look. "So young, to be so experienced..."

"I'm seventeen," she said a little testily, not liking the doctor's reproving tone. "That's not so young where I'm from."

"No…I suppose it isn't. How sad."

There was judgment there, not against Sakura, but against her lifestyle. Once again, she was reminded of how the outside world saw shinobi and the hidden villages. But in her eyes Konoha was a safe haven filled with friends and loved ones, a place worth protecting. She had never once wished for another life.

"So, is there somewhere we can stay until he's well enough to travel?" she redirected, trying not to let her resentment show. "A house for rent or something?" They couldn't stay at the inn for the same reasons they couldn't remain in the clinic. Furthermore, Itachi needed to relax as much as possible to get well, so the fewer strange people around to put him on edge, the better.

Junko sighed quietly, brushing off the tension that had suddenly risen between them. "I'm afraid not. Houses don't often come up vacant in a town where no one moves away." She paused a moment. "Though a place does come to mind now that I think of it; my family owns a hunting cabin about fifteen miles northeast of town, at the base of the mountain. My father's too old to go up there nowadays and no one's used it in years. I'm not sure what sort of condition it's in, but you're welcome to stay there as long as you need."

Sakura didn't particularly like the idea of being so isolated from civilization, all alone in a cabin in the woods with Uchiha Itachi, but it seemed there was no other choice. Misgivings aside, it was the perfect place for their needs. No one would have to deal with Itachi but her, and if dangerous people did come around, this town and its people wouldn't become collateral damage. She smiled gratefully and thanked the elder woman for her generosity.

After that Sakura walked down the street to the general store to stock up on the supplies they would need. Fortunately activities like hunting and trapping were popular here, so she had no trouble finding everything she would need for survival out in the wild. Having no idea how long this venture would take, she wanted to be prepared, and kept in mind that Junko said she didn't know how fit that cabin was for habitation. For all she knew they could arrive to find the roof collapsed or that a family of bears had taken up residence.

Most of her mission allowance had been spent already, so the remaining expense was covered out of her own pocket. She hoped she could convince Tsunade to reimburse her, because it turned out stockpiling a month's worth of food and supplies for two wasn't cheap. More than that, though, she just hoped her bargain with Itachi didn't get her demoted to genin or thrown in the stocks.

She returned to the clinic in a single trip thanks to the help of the store owner's son, who kept staring at her then looking away when she caught him. When they dropped the supplies off in the empty room next to Itachi's she asked him if he could show her where the rookery was so she could send a message. The boy stared at her blankly for a moment before informing Sakura – to her dismay – that there wasn't one. She thanked him for his help anyway. He blushed furiously and tipped his hat to her before hurrying out.

Sakura found Junko behind the reception desk. The doctor turned to Sakura with a knowing smile. "I think young Makoto's smitten by you. You're probably the prettiest thing he'll ever see in his life."

She just gave that little polite smile people give when they don't have anything to say. A country boy's crush was the last thing on her mind. "He said there's no rookery here?"

"There isn't. Why, do you need to send a message?"

She nodded. "To Tsunade-shishou."

"You'll have to use the regular post. It runs weekly out here; the postman should be round in about four days."

Great. She was expected to report back in two. "How soon do you think a letter would reach Konoha?"

Junko shrugged helplessly. "Well, I really can't say. A week, maybe?"

Sakura nearly groaned. Eleven days at least until word of her situation reached home. By that time Tsunade would probably have sent someone to look for her; it wasn't like Sakura to be late without sending a message. "Do you have some stationery I can use?" she asked resignedly.

"Sure thing." Junko rifled around behind the desk and came up with some paper and an envelope and passed them to her.

"Would it be alright if had mail sent here?" She would be awaiting orders once the Hokage got her letter, and needed a place to receive them.

"Of course, dear. Tell Lady Tsunade I said hello."

It wasn't that sort of letter, but Sakura humored her with a polite smile, and the doctor wandered off to the back of the clinic. Sakura sat at the desk, grabbed a pen, sighed wearily, and began to write. It had been a while since she'd used level four encryption and she had a lot to say, so she'd be at it a while. The nurse called Shion—the one Itachi hadn't assaulted today—came out from the back and left the clinic, her shift over. Mai followed shortly after, and Sakura stole a glance at her arm to see the damage, but she appeared fine, with no visible marks. Apparently Itachi wasn't as rough as she'd made it seem. Sakura's wrists, however, were already splotched with purple.

Junko came out several minutes later and drew the blinds. Sakura had assumed the doctor lived above the clinic, which was common in small towns, and it appeared she'd been right, as Junko showed no signs of leaving. Before sliding the bolts on the door, she paused and turned to Sakura. "Do you still plan to stay at the inn tonight?"

"There's still a lot he and I need to discuss," she said, jerking her head in the direction of Itachi's room. "Would it be alright if I slept in the empty room next to his?"

"Go right ahead. I've arranged for someone to come in the morning and take you out to the cabin. The washroom's at the end of the hall there, and I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

Junko locked up and headed up to her living quarters. Sakura finished her letter, only the tick of the clock and scratch of her pen breaking the silence.

When she finally returned to Itachi's room it was nearing midnight. She assumed he would be asleep but instead he sat upright, seemingly deep in thought. He continued to stare at nothing even when he heard her enter. She noticed that he held his arm in his lap as if favoring it, and that his wrist was slightly swollen. In her panic she may have used a little too much force to break free of him earlier; it was possible she had sprained or even broken his wrist. Not that he'd even grunted in pain to show it.

Sakura sat in the same chair as before, sighing tiredly. "I've worked it out. We'll be staying at a place outside of town until this is finished." Itachi finally acknowledged her presence, raising shadow-rimmed eyes to meet hers. She gave him a long look. "What are the chances that Akatsuki is looking for you?"

"Minimal," he replied. "Madara left me for dead. It will be several weeks before he learns otherwise, and by that time the trail will have gone cold."

Sakura frowned. "What does Madara have to do with Akatsuki?"

His onyx gaze intensified. "Akatsuki is Madara's creation. He controls their movements."

"But Jiraiya said that someone called Pein was the leader of Akatsuki," she argued, frown deepening in confusion.

"Only on the surface."

Sakura opened her mouth to blurt any number of questions, but decided now wasn't the time. Itachi certainly had a lot of explaining to do in the weeks ahead. A long moment passed as Sakura gathered her thoughts, while Itachi kept his as guarded as ever. At last she said, "So…when did you first realize you were sick?"

"Six years ago."

She nodded faintly. "What medications have you been taking?"

He told her. They were illegal and unapproved, which didn't really surprise her. What did surprise her was that those drugs had no healing properties; they were high-dose painkillers and cough suppressants.

Sakura told him she would be right back and left the room. The clinic was dark and silent; she could hear the faint thrum of machinery—probably a generator—somewhere in the back. Not wanting to wake Junko for something she could do herself, she silently made her way into the staff area and located the supply room. She turned the light on and searched the shelves, intending to replicate Itachi's cocktail as closely as possible and fortify it with vitamins, antibiotics, and anything else she could think of that might ease her workload.

Again she mentally listed Itachi's previous regimen, and again she was left confused; surely he'd known what those drugs would and would not do for him. Her search paused suddenly, her hands resting flat on the shelf as she exhaled softly in understanding.

Itachi was never trying to cure his illness. He only wanted to hide it.

It made sense; in his world—the dangerous, treacherous world of missing-nin—exposing a weakness like that would have been fatal. But why hadn't he at least tried, at first, to find a cure? Had her snarky jibe been accurate after all…did he really want to die? And if that was the case, what had changed his mind?

Then it struck her: it all led back to Sasuke. Itachi said he'd learned of his condition six years ago…which was around the same time he came back into Sasuke's life and started pushing him down the dark path of revenge. Had Itachi realized his time was short and wanted Sasuke to kill him? Yet now he wanted to live because Sasuke needed him?

That was the only logical conclusion she could come to, though it contradicted everything she believed about Itachi and his relationship with his brother. Nothing about this man made any sense!

Confused, and irritated because of it, Sakura returned with the medications and set them on the bedside table. Itachi picked them up one by one and read their labels. Sakura noticed that he squinted a little, as though he had trouble reading the small print. The last bottle contained valerian extract, and his brow pulled downward in a frown as he rolled it between his fingers and observed the thick, yellowish-green liquid. He set it back on the table and gave her a stern look.

"No sedatives."

"It's only because you're already in a lot of pain, and healing with chakra can be uncomfortable for the patient," she explained.

"That's fine. But no sedatives," he repeated firmly.

"What are you so worried about? I'm not going to do anything—"

"No."

Sakura glared at him, exasperated. He didn't trust her. She didn't trust him either. They were both taking equal risks, all things considered. He was the one to ask her for help; the least he could do was cooperate fully. But if he wanted to suffer more than necessary she really couldn't care less. "Fine, whatever," she snapped. A tense moment passed before she went on, "I wanted to do a preliminary session tonight, so that the journey won't be so hard on you tomorrow."

Itachi nodded his assent, and Sakura scooted the chair closer to the bed in order to reach him. "Give me your arm." She held it gently and turned it at the elbow, then at the wrist—it was definitely sprained. She clicked her tongue softly in reproach. "You should have said something before it swelled up like this." She didn't apologize for it because she wasn't sorry. He didn't reply, but his eyes lingered on her own mottled wrists, for which he clearly wasn't sorry either.

The awkward tension remained between them even after she'd finished his arm and moved on to internal work, boosting his immune system and ensuring his lungs could handle breathing the cold air tomorrow. Itachi was perfectly composed and withdrawn, but Sakura couldn't stand the lengthening silence. Normally she didn't mind quiet, even craved it, but Itachi made her uncomfortable just by being him, and the situation she found herself in was a little overwhelming. When the silences stretched between them she started thinking of all the questions she had, thinking about how much she despised him for everything he'd done. She couldn't concentrate, and so after a while she attempted to start a simple conversation to keep her mind off darker, more confusing thoughts.

"So, uh…how did you know I was a kunoichi?" she asked quietly. She'd had her chakra repressed and was averagely dressed. She shouldn't have been suspicious at all.

Itachi gave her a measuring look, almost studying her. "Several things gave you away," he said. "Your hands bear calluses from weapon use, as well as scars acquired from learning to use them."

Sakura frowned indignantly. Her hands weren't that rough, she used lotion all the time! And those scars were barely noticeable, more like cat scratches or papercuts, faded reminders of her clumsy academy days before she'd ever heard of medical ninjutsu.

"I could also smell the clove oil on your kunai," he continued. "In the future you may want to consider switching to unscented."

"I'll keep that in mind," she muttered dryly.

"However, what gave you away most was your chakra."

Sakura looked up at him, confused. "My chakra was completely repressed."

"Yes, and that was your mistake." He watched her a moment before explaining, "All living creatures possess chakra in different levels. With training you can identify the differences between shinobi and civilians, animals, and spirit creatures such as summons. The complete absence of chakra is unnatural. As a medic you know this; it's how you know something has died. You also know that only shinobi are able to hide their chakra signatures. In the wilderness, such as a forest which is teeming with life, doing so creates a void, a blank spot where something should be but isn't, making it very easy to detect the location of your enemy. The key is to mask your chakra, but let just enough leak to not create that hole. In an urban environment such as this it is more complicated, but you were only inches from me."

Itachi's tone was mild and even as ever, purely observational, but Sakura still felt self-conscious, like she was being lectured. It occurred to her only now that, sick and weakened as he was, he'd been masking his chakra flawlessly this entire time. Her cheeks grew hot.

"It's never been an issue before," she said defensively, but even to her own ears she sounded childish, which only furthered her embarrassment.

"Then you have been lucky in your encounters. Such a mistake could have gotten you killed."

Sakura knew it. She'd come close today. Itachi was in no condition to fight, but he had been so fast, taking her completely by surprise. He could have snapped her neck before she even realized he'd moved. The knowledge frightened her, and that fear made her angry.

"Well maybe you can teach me all your fancy little tricks sometime, Mister Perfect Shinobi," she said acridly.

"If you like."

Her anger drained away, replaced by surprise. "Erm…oh. Seriously?"

Itachi gave the faintest shrug. "If time and circumstance allow."

She didn't really know what to make of his offer, but she couldn't deny it would be kind of cool to receive a few specialized lessons from one of the best shinobi in the five nations. As long as he didn't try to kill her.

"And I'm far from the perfect shinobi," he added softly, almost to himself.

Sakura didn't ask him to elaborate. She'd been baffled enough by his cryptic comments and irreconcilable demeanor for one night. Instead she questioned him for more concrete answers. "So, the injuries you sustained before coming here…were from your fight with Sasuke?" Itachi nodded. "How badly was he injured?"

"Equally, at least. Though I'm sure he received medical treatment."

Sakura grit her teeth, trying to rein in the hostility threatening to surface. Sasuke had spent the last five years trying to pick a fight with this man; if he still wasn't ready after all this time, he probably never would be. She couldn't logically be angry at Itachi for not simply rolling over and letting his brother win.

As if he'd read her thoughts, or perhaps her expression, he said, "I didn't go easy on him, but I wasn't trying to kill him."

That surprised her, and she frowned as her chakra flow paused. "Then what were you trying to do?" Itachi didn't reply, and she knew by the blank expression on his face that he wasn't going to, at least not at this time. Sakura sighed. Even a direct, open conversation with him was full of mystery. "I'm just wondering about what happened. He wanted to kill you, but obviously he didn't. You didn't kill him either, so how is it you both lived through a fight to the death? The guy who looks like a flytrap—"

"Zetsu," he supplied.

"Okay. Well Zetsu told the crazy guy in the orange mask that Sasuke won and you died, but that Sasuke was in serious condition as well. They took off to find you. We followed them to a fortress where your Amaterasu was burning out of control, but there was no one there when we arrived. Do you remember what happened?"

Itachi was silent a long moment. As usual, she couldn't tell anything from his expression, but she had a feeling he remembered everything perfectly. Yet all he eventually said was, "The fight was too much of a strain in my condition and I lost consciousness. My brother must have believed I was dead, or he would have ensured it."

"Unless he also lost consciousness," Sakura murmured.

Several minutes passed silently before Itachi spoke again, almost as an afterthought. "The man in the mask was Madara."

Sakura stared at him wide-eyed, though she found she wasn't really surprised. Who else could it have been? He'd intercepted them, kept them from reaching Sasuke, and immediately abandoned his pretense of a fight to rush to the scene of the brothers' battle. He'd been right there…if only they'd known. But there was no point thinking about what might have been, nor in presuming they'd had any kind of handle on that situation, because they hadn't. Even if they had known it was Madara, the outcome wouldn't have been any different. She emitted a long, slow sigh. "What's the next thing you remember?"

"Waking in darkness," he replied quietly. "I believe I must have been comatose for several days. Madara brought me to one of his hideouts and left me there, for what reason I don't know, though he clearly believed I was dead."

Sakura was slightly incredulous. "He didn't bother to check?"

"I must have been close enough to death to be convincing. For non-medics such a thing isn't always so easy to tell without close examination. Furthermore, Madara is an egomaniacal man. The greatest faults of arrogance are underestimation and oversight."

"How did you escape?" Her chakra output had stopped a while ago and she just sat beside him now, fully engaged in their conversation.

"By walking out the front door," he said simply. "As I said, Madara believed I was dead, and left me as such with no security precautions. The compound is built into the cliffs on the western side of these mountains, facing the sea. When I awoke, Madara, my brother, and the others with them had already moved on. I found what little food and water I could and made my way down the mountain through the southern pass. From there I wandered until I found this village."

The rest Sakura already knew. "From what Junko told me, you barely made it," she said, more than a little amazed at his fortitude and willpower, that he could survive the wilderness in such a state.

"I wasn't sure that I would, and when I collapsed and woke up in this place I knew I could go no further, that my effort was futile," he admitted quietly. He held her gaze, his lips curving ironically. "Until you arrived. Perhaps we were meant to meet in this place."

Sakura stared into those dark, absorbing eyes, unsure whether she wanted to entertain that idea. His words resonated deeply within her; she had always been a believer in destiny, but at the same time she didn't really want to accept that her fate might be entwined in some way with Uchiha Itachi's.

In any case, they now found themselves here, and they had made a bargain. Sakura would hold up her end and see it through to its conclusion, whatever that may be.


The night passed fitfully for Sakura, too caught up in her own troubled thoughts to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. Itachi's night wasn't any better; she heard him erupt into sporadic, prolonged coughing fits throughout the night. Maybe it bothered him more when he slept and his body tried in vain to repair itself. Maybe he was just really good at holding back in front of others; after all, he had concealed this illness for the past six years.

She checked on him first thing after getting dressed, and found him no better or worse than the night before: haggard, pale. She asked him a few brief medical questions which he answered just as briefly. Other than that they didn't speak, and Sakura left him to get ready while she took care of a few last details. She put her encrypted letter in the mail and willed it to travel as fast as possible.

Junko was about, preparing the clinic for the day, and Sakura spoke to her once she'd moved all of their supplies and equipment from her room to the reception area. "I hope you don't mind, but I needed some vitamins and medication from your storeroom. I'll make sure you get reimbursed for them as soon as I'm in contact with Konoha."

Junko waved it off. "You can have whatever you need. You're taking on a huge burden, doing this all alone. Anything I can do to help, consider it done."

Sakura smiled gratefully. If not for the elder woman's help her task would have been far more difficult. "Thank you. I'll probably need to come back to town periodically for supplies, and I'll check in for messages." On an afterthought she added, "Oh, and if anyone comes looking for me, specifically, you can tell them where to find me. If someone is looking for him…"

"I'll tell them he died."

Sakura shook her head. "No, they'd want the body." The doctor looked horrified and bewildered by the idea. She thought for a moment. "Tell them…tell them we went to Konoha."

Junko studied her worriedly, and then gave a somber nod. "Alright then."

A grizzled older man called Han, whom Junko had recruited the night before, arrived a few minutes later to take Sakura and Itachi out to the cabin. It turned out he was the same heavy-browed cart driver that passed Sakura in the street, and was also Mai's husband. He greeted Junko gruffly and gave Sakura a silent once-over. He seemed very put-upon about the whole thing. Sakura just hoped Mai hadn't told her husband much about Itachi or the ride might get very unpleasant.

The morning was frigid, with a biting wind that had her teeth clenching and her ears aching. The sky was an opaque, cloudy gray that threatened rain or even snow at any moment. She hoped the weather would hold until they were out of the open.

Han helped Sakura load the supplies and gear onto the wagon, giving her strange looks whenever she lifted things he apparently thought should have been too heavy for a girl of her petite stature. Clapping the dirt from her hands as she hopped down from the flatbed, she shot him a disarming smile. He frowned and muttered something under his breath before turning away and climbing into the driver's seat. Sakura rolled her eyes at his back and went inside to fetch her patient.

It surprised her to find him standing in the middle of his room, tying his long black hair into its usual ponytail. Apparently he was capable of moving on his own, though certainly too weak to be up and about for long periods.

Itachi's own clothing had been ruined by his fight with Sasuke and the subsequent ordeal, so the nurses had provided him with pants and a knit sweater that probably would have hung on his lean frame even when he was fit, both in nondescript grays. Sakura half expected him to be wearing flannel like most of the other men around here, and was glad he wasn't because she didn't think she'd be able to keep from laughing at the sight of Uchiha Itachi: rustic woodsman.

"Everything's ready to go," she told him, leaning back against the doorframe. He looked her way and nodded faintly. She watched him a moment longer before crossing to the bed and grabbing the thick coverlet. Standing next to him, she realized he was a lot taller than she'd thought; even with her thick-heeled boots on, the top of her head only reached his chin. His ill health and thinness made him appear smaller, but in reality he rivaled Kakashi in height.

Looking up into his dark, shadowed eyes as he looked down into hers, Sakura suddenly felt a twinge of anxiety, as if she had somehow lost some of her equal footing with him by the subtle shift in his presence. He seemed more…real. Solid. Looming over her with that heavy gaze, he was less the dying man in a hospital bed, and more the shinobi she remembered. It bothered her that she felt intimidated by him when he wasn't even trying. "Here," she said shortly, holding the blanket out. "It's cold and windy outside and your immune system is weakened. The last thing we need is you catching the flu."

Itachi took it wordlessly and wrapped it around himself. Feeling slightly awkward again and not knowing what else to say, Sakura left the room. The Uchiha followed silently behind.

The two nurses were nowhere to be seen, probably hiding from the mere sight of the man who'd made their jobs hell over the last three weeks, but Junko was waiting for them. She cast a wary, but still compassionate glance at Itachi as he walked past, and then turned to Sakura. "You know, I still don't know his name," she mused.

"It's Itachi." She wasn't about to include his surname, as Uchiha was a name known far and wide even among civilians, and the less the townsfolk knew about who they were harboring, the better—and safer—it would be for everyone. "Thank you for taking care of him until now. And I apologize for his attitude." She smiled faintly, but it rankled to have to apologize for him. She wouldn't have, if she didn't have to pretend they were comrades.

Junko pursed her lips. "Well, it's a healer's duty to give treatment without judgment." She laid her hand on Sakura's shoulder. "Good luck with him, and don't you push yourself too hard."

"Thank you for all your help, Junko-san," she said, and followed Itachi outside.

They set off. Sakura and Itachi rode in the back of the wagon with the supplies, shielded from the brunt of the icy wind by the ledge of the driver's seat, though not protected at all from the rolling jostle of the cart's passage over rocky, uneven terrain. Sakura passed the time by gazing out across the vast, wild moor, occasionally shooting an anxious glance at the sky, willing it not to rain. Itachi was as silent and gloomy as the thunderclouds overhead.

The trip was slow and long. Much longer than she'd expected, and she began to worry about the man next to her, who held the blanket tightly around himself and sat very still and rigid, his brow pulled downward much like their driver's. Occasionally he would huff faintly, which she recognized as tightly restrained coughing. Sakura knew he was catching a chill, despite her efforts to prevent it. She was tempted to offer him her scarf and hat, but was pretty certain he would flat out refuse the fuzzy green accessories no matter how cold he was, and fighting him about it would only strain him further. Nor did she feel comfortable scooting closer to share what little body heat she had. She pulled her knees to her chest, wishing she had a blanket too, and they rode on in anxious, uncomfortable silence.

The open landscape turned to forest as they passed into the foothills. About a half hour after crossing a stream via a low wooden bridge, the trees thinned a little into a small glade; a layer of mist curled over the tall, pale grass, and at the far end near the opposite treeline was their cabin.

Sakura sighed in relief, eager to stand and get some feeling back into her frozen rear. The air was cold and foggy, leaving her cheeks moist and the exposed parts of her hair frizzy. It was also having an adverse affect on Itachi; his breathing was short and fitful, and when he released his rigid posture to step down from the wagon, she could see a slight tremble in his shoulders. He needed to get inside and warm up, fast.

Sakura went to the door and used the key Junko had given her, hoping that the lock wasn't frozen or rusted beyond use. It stuck a little but didn't require much force, and she entered to find a very dusty and stale but inhabitable living space, no bears or forest critters of any sort in residence.

Moving to the bed, she grabbed the quilted comforter and shook it roughly, holding her breath against the dust cloud that rose. Once satisfied it was as clean as it was going to get, she tossed it on the foot of the bed and went back outside. Itachi was making his way over, slowly and tensely, as if it took considerable effort just to stand upright. He was far weaker than he appeared, and was trying to hide it. She reached for him, but withdrew at the sharp look he shot her. Her brows drew together, both irritated and concerned. "Go inside and lie down," she instructed.

Sakura began unloading their supplies quickly and efficiently, carrying loads that appeared too heavy for her without batting an eyelash, setting them down on the covered porch and going back for more. She had no time to notice Han's bemused, almost wary glances as he helped her.

"Thank you for bringing us out here," she told him once everything was unloaded.

"The winter's comin' fast. Once the snows set in a wagon won't be able to make it out here. You'll be stuck, unless you want to walk," he warned gruffly.

"I understand," Sakura said. "We'll be fine." Itachi wouldn't be traveling anywhere, but she would have no problems running the distance to the village and back. Indeed, she could do it three times as fast as the wagon and its plodding oxen did.

The old man nodded to her and turned away, unaware that her acute hearing picked up his mumbled "damn strange foreigners" as he walked away. She could also hear the muffled sound of Itachi starting to cough.

The sound worsened considerably as she gathered an armful of supplies to take inside, and as she came through the door she saw Itachi doubled over at the edge of the bed, blood seeping through his fingers, dripping onto the dusty floor as his body was wracked with spasms. He couldn't hold back anymore. The full force of his illness hit him like a wave, and he pitched forward toward the ground. The load in her arms fell with a loud clatter as she rushed to catch him.

He had no strength to hold himself up, and the weight of him dragged them both down until she was on her knees beside him, holding him upright around the shoulders. His coughing didn't cease, and now he was nearly choking on the amount of blood filling his airways; a small puddle of sticky crimson already stained the floor between his knees. All Sakura could do was hold him still until he calmed down and the fit passed. Eventually his breathing evened, though it remained ragged and his thin shoulders still trembled with each shaky exhale. A little of his strength returned and he pulled away from her unsteadily, the long ends of his damp hair clinging to her arm for a moment. Sakura sat back a little, suddenly aware of their proximity, and that such contact was no longer necessary. Itachi braced himself on his hands, fists clenched white-knuckled against the dirty floor in pain, anger, or maybe even shame.

She left his side momentarily to fetch a dishrag she spotted next to the sink. She unfolded it clean side out so he that wouldn't inhale who knew how many years of dust. Itachi took it without looking at her and slowly wiped the blood and spittle from his colorless lips and chin. The echoing silence surrounding them in the aftermath felt too loud in the small, stuffy room.

The episode fortified Sakura, erasing her feelings of anxiety and awkwardness as she settled into that familiar, coolly professional rhythm. He let her help him up and into bed—too tired and ailing to be proud. His eyes remained closed and she was glad she didn't have to see the look in them. Being so completely helpless and humbled in front of a stranger couldn't be easy.

Next to the hearth was a pile of old, dry firewood, the kind that burned fast and hot. She piled up a few logs, opened the flue, and lit a fire with a small katon jutsu. When it was burning steadily she got up and finished moving the supplies inside. The wagon ride and coughing fit had left Itachi spent and he appeared to be asleep already, though it worried her that his breathing was still a little shaky and wet. She made sure he was stable before heading outside.

The wagon and its driver were long gone when she went out again and moved around the clearing with shinobi speed, laying chakra sensors and a few genjutsu traps on the ground and in the trees in a hundred meter circular perimeter around the cabin. It wouldn't hold off Akatsuki, or Uchiha Madara, but at least it would provide some warning.

Next she inspected the outside of the cabin. The tiled roof was covered by moss in many places, but it was intact. She leapt up onto it to check the chimney for blockage or collapse, but it was in good condition as well, and gray-white smoke curled lazily from the blackened opening. The rainwater cistern was full and remarkably clean of debris. There were no cracks or holes in the windows, though one of the shutters was broken, hanging crookedly from its hinge. She found an oil drum in back, with plenty inside for lighting the lamps and portable stove she'd brought just in case. However she was extremely pleased to find a generator as well, and managed to fire it up with a few attempts. She'd prepared for nearly everything in the event there wouldn't be electricity, but there was one thing the generator could provide that none of their supplies could: hot water.

It had been about an hour since she'd left Itachi, and so, satisfied with her inspection, she went back inside to take care of her patient. The fire had done its job, and as she finally removed her coat, she sighed pleasantly at the toasty warmth tingling her face and fingers.

Turning her attention to Itachi, she realized he wasn't asleep as she'd thought. He lay shivering on his side, his features flushed an unnatural pink and clammy with sweat, his breathing shallow and rapid. She cursed softly and moved to his side, placed the back of her hand against his damp brow. He was burning up.

Itachi's condition was far direr than she'd realized. Junko had estimated a week; the long trip and exposure to cold had probably halved that. He was critical now. If she didn't start the healing immediately he would die within a few days, maybe even sooner.

Sakura went to her pack for the medication she'd taken from the clinic, including the sedative he'd refused. She turned on the kitchen sink, anxiously watched it sputter and spit for a moment before a clear stream poured out, then rinsed and filled one of the glasses she found in the cabinet. She didn't hide her actions from him, and knew he was aware that she put a few drops of the sedative in his water.

Crossing back to him with the glass and pill bottles in hand, she said, "Can you sit up?" He did, slowly, and leaned back against the headboard with a shaky sigh, as if even the smallest action exhausted him. She took a pill from each bottle and held them in her palm. "Take these," she instructed softly. "They'll make things easier on both of us."

Itachi didn't move. He stared at the glass in her hand before fixing her with a tired glare. "I said no—"

Sakura had no patience for his stubbornness, and cut him off. "Itachi. Now is not the time for this. If I wanted you dead, all I'd need to do is stand back and watch. You asked me to help you, and I'm trying, damn it, but you have to let me."

Itachi continued to scowl at her for a long moment, but eventually sighed and reached for the glass. When he'd swallowed the last pill and drained the water she had him lie down again, and then her hands flared with chakra.

Sakura spent the rest of the day and long into the night healing him. Itachi's condition worsened, his fever rose, and by nightfall he was unconscious. Before she could fully focus on his disease she had to break this fever, but his body and organs were weakened by illness, his immune system compromised. He couldn't fight it off. It was all on her.

All worries of the past twenty-four hours faded to the back of her mind. He wasn't a dangerous enemy right now, like this. He was her patient. Her only thoughts were of saving his life. She didn't stop until her chakra was depleted and she could barely keep herself upright, eventually passing out with her head in her arms at the edge of the bed.

The second day was worse than the first. Itachi's fever had receded but not broken, and the disease roared through him with renewed vengeance. He couldn't hold food down, not even the soup she prepared. His coughing was violent and relentless, leaving him constantly short of breath and unable to lie supine or find a comfortable position due to the fluid in his lungs. A few times he vomited blood.

In the beginning he continued to stubbornly resist her in little ways, remaining ambivalent, distressed, and angry. Sakura didn't entirely understand why; after all, he'd practically begged her to help him, and despite her theories about his initial motives, he seemed to very much want to live. She suspected he was struggling with his pride; a fault seemingly inherited by all Uchihas. She sympathized with how difficult this ordeal must be for him, but if they were going to succeed they needed to trust each other more and work together.

She told him as much when he hesitated to take the sedative again. She reiterated his own words: they needed each other, they had made a deal and, success or failure, they were in this together. She didn't know what she said or did that made him eventually relent, but he did, at last fully surrendering his life into her hands.

After that she didn't speak to him other than quiet, simple commands: "Try to sit up a little." "Drink this." When she wasn't occupied with him, or with keeping the fire going, she kept herself alive with hastily prepared sustenance. When Itachi wasn't being tortured by his wasted, ailing body, he remained mercifully unconscious. The cabin was small, with one main room and one bed, as she'd figured it would be, so she'd bought a cot for herself. But once again at the end of the day she was too exhausted to dig it out, and fell asleep at his bedside. She didn't spare a thought to the fact that she slept within arm's reach of a notorious criminal. Right now, he couldn't hurt a fly.

Over three long and difficult days, Sakura spent nearly every waking moment at Itachi's side, diligently, almost obsessively fighting to keep him alive. She poured everything she had, her knowledge, her stamina, her years of honed skills, every ounce of willpower into the battle, expending her chakra fully to its limits, eating or sleeping only to restore it, and then beginning again. She would not lose. Too much was at stake, and truthfully, she wanted him to live. The little glimpses into this man, what he'd allowed her to see, had fascinated her and she wanted—needed—to discover more.

Late into the third night, Itachi's fever finally broke, his breathing evened—at last free of tremors and fluids—and he slept like one who hasn't slept in a decade. Maybe he hadn't, truly.

Sakura exhaled a deep, profoundly grateful sigh. Much more of this kind of strain would have killed them both. Though she was too exhausted to show it, she was immensely proud of herself. She'd done it. Itachi was out of immediate danger. She finally managed to pull her cot and sleeping bag out, and fell into a sleep nearly as deep as Itachi's.

When she woke in the morning he was still sleeping peacefully. She considered taking advantage of his stabilized state to sleep more and recover her own strength…but there was still a lot to be done that had been neglected during Itachi's critical turn. She folded up her cot and checked on her patient, smiling a little at his much-improved condition. Then she started a fire, made a mental note to find more wood as the pile was nearly gone, and went to clean up. Afterward she finished unpacking their supplies and then checked on Itachi again.

His feverish flush had faded, leaving him unnaturally pale once more. His eyes were still dark-rimmed and shadowed with fatigue, his cheeks slightly sunken with malnutrition. He wouldn't die if she turned her back on him for a minute, but he was nowhere near well. All in good time, she told herself. She watched him almost curiously, and after a moment carefully sat at the edge of the bed.

It was the first time she'd had a chance to just look at him, up close, undaunted by the tension and awkwardness that had been between them before. They weren't facing off in as enemies, and she was no longer more concerned with what was going on inside of him than out. She took full advantage of the opportunity to study him thoroughly.

His resemblance to Sasuke was remarkable, but Uchiha genes were strong; they all shared certain familial traits, from what she'd seen in photos. Looking closely, Sakura could easily see there were as many differences between them as similarities. She thought Itachi was better looking, if she was being perfectly honest with herself. His features were more masculine, his jawline stronger, lips thinner and more shapely. She had a feeling Sasuke favored their mother. Itachi's hair was a softer shade of black, his eyes a warmer shade of dark brown. His eyes were his most striking feature, the thing about him that always grabbed her attention and held it. And she would kill to have his long, thick lashes.

It was strange, how even though he was so frail and wasted, he was somehow no less attractive, indeed, almost more so. An ethereal fragility hung over him, as if death's shadow made his beauty more poignant. She was suddenly struck by the urge to touch him, to brush back the dark hair from his brow, just to make sure he was really there with her, that he really had survived the past few days and nights that now seemed surreal, almost a blur.

Sakura blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts, her hand withdrawing before it completed the impulse. What started as a factual observation had slipped into something else, something she wasn't comfortable thinking about. She told herself she was only thinking that way because Itachi wasn't awake to freak her out with his intense stares and cryptic words.

In truth, she knew that during the past few days, as she fought to save his life, a bond had formed between them whether they liked it or not.

The deeply intimate nature of such intense healing always created a connection between healer and patient. His cells were filled with her chakra, her life energy, and a part of him was joined to her as well, like a strange new awareness alive inside of her. Severe cases like his were usually handled by an entire team of medics in order to prevent this outcome, which could be potentially disastrous for both medic and patient. But by Itachi's insistence they had entered into this alone, and now they had been fused together through their shared experience. It would take a long time for that to wear off.

But that didn't mean she wanted to entertain weird thoughts about him.

Sighing, she rose and busied herself with making coffee. Grabbing one of the wooden chairs from the tiny table, she pulled it over to sit in front of the fire. She wrapped her hands around her mug and stared into the flames, listening to the quiet crackle of wood crumbling to embers, and more muffled and distant, the soft patter of the beginning drops of rain.

Sakura was expected back in Konoha two days ago. By now, Tsunade would be growing concerned. If Junko had been right about the mail service her letter would be leaving today, but might not reach its destination for over a week. She felt apprehensive about her situation here, and wondered now if what she was doing was really as clear-cut and obligatory as it first seemed. What if she'd been wrong in assuming this was what the Hokage would want her to do? What if her shishou would be furious with her for deciding such important things on her own? Would she send hunter-nins up here to find them and arrest Itachi, or kill him?

The idea disturbed her deeply, and she looked over at the man sleeping so soundly a few feet away. Kakashi had always told them to look underneath the underneath, and that concept had never been clearer to her than it was right now.

Itachi wasn't evil. Sakura didn't know how she knew that, but she felt it all the way to her bones. Perhaps it was the inadvertent attunement of the healing, which by its very nature could not lie. She 'felt' him, on a raw, instinctual level. His was not the spirit of a wicked, heartless monster. Clearly there was much more to him than what he appeared to be. She didn't think anyone knew just how much more there was.

But Sakura would find out. If they were allowed to remain here, if her healing abilities could give him the time he needed to reveal his secrets to her as he'd sworn to do, she would learn. He'd allowed her a glimpse or two, enticing her curious nature; she had to know more. She would make it her goal, in the coming weeks, to see beyond the mystery to the man underneath.


Next chapter: The Truth