A/N: Some of Naruto's past is revealed, but by no means all. Hardly anything, really. And we haven't seen the last of Itachi either, nowhere near. Patience.

6. Reunion

Naruto re-entered his pre-Sasuke routines only by dint of his steely resolve to forget the boy. It wasn't easy. And at first he didn't even want to try. He wanted to hang on to the memory of Sasuke's presence. Thinking of how the boy had followed him around, and of how much Sasuke had obviously cared for him, Naruto thought the memory of how he'd then hurt Sasuke would drive him to violence. He could feel it happening, feel his mind descending into the rages he'd experienced when-

Don't go there.

At this point he would reel himself in, and keep reeling until he was tightly wound and in control once more. He would set his mouth in a grim line, and go about his days with dogged, single-minded determination. He wasn't successful in the execution, not by a long shot, but he at least tried. It was a physical effort of strenuous proportions; his shoulders would be hunched, and his footsteps forceful and furious as he went around his property.

There was one weakness he allowed himself each morning. Only one. He would go to his door at precisely nine o'clock, crack it open, and verify that Sasuke wasn't waiting on his stoop. He knew the boy wouldn't be, knew he'd see nothing but well-maintained wood, but for some reason he needed to reassure -or punish- himself with this little ritual. Once he saw no one outside, he could get on with his day, but he absolutely could not do anything unless he'd first poked his head out the front door, looked, and slammed it shut again.

He was doing the right thing. He knew he was. And he knew himself. If he'd said nothing to Sasuke, it would have been worse. The longer their attraction went on without them acknowledging it, the greater the chance that they would each start taking it for granted. From there it was a slippery slope. Eventually they would act on it and he, at least, knew better. He could wish that he didn't…but he didn't want to harm Sasuke with his fucked up views on life, and his ignorance on relationships. He knew enough to know it was wrong and that was that.

It was hard. Knowing that Sasuke returned his misbegotten attraction, it was terribly hard not to go after him. Sometimes he would have to stop whatever he was doing, and stare at the way his hands shook. His heart would be thundering in his chest, and he knew that to those experienced and trained to feel it, his chakra was clearly defined. They would be able to feel it all the way down in the city. To civilians it would just feel like pressure in the atmosphere, perhaps a storm on the way. He would then concentrate on his breathing, closing his big hands into loose fists, and fight his way back to self-containment.

At night he would lay awake, and let his mind dwell with obsessive intensity on Sasuke. He would call up his image, and process every detail of it over and over. The color of his hair in sunlight, revealed to be tinted blue. The way it fell over his eyes. The eyes themselves, and how lustrously dark they were, the very essence of desire itself. The creamy skin, the lack of facial hair. The voice. Always so quiet and respectful. Somewhat deep. The lean body and the confident, graceful way he moved. The hands that had at first held chipped nail polish, and were now studiously clean. He knew this last was because Sasuke had caught him eyeing the polish in disgust that time in his truck.

As if these thoughts weren't bad enough, he further tortured himself with fevered speculation on the texture of Sasuke's skin. Was it as soft as it looked? As smooth? Was his hair coarse or silky to the touch? He thought maybe it was silky. Incredibly thick, but silky. He only wished he'd gotten close enough to Sasuke to know his smell. Invariably, his mind would choose this point in his musings to ponder what it would be like to touch Sasuke, to hold him, kiss him, sink himself to the hilt in-

Stop it!

A few seconds of hard-won blankness would cover his mind…then he would begin again, picking the details apart, until the sun rose, at which time he would wait until nine, look outside his door, then begin his day.

The price he paid for peace of mind was high. If only he had the peace of mind he strove for.

Sasuke floundered. Itachi had a new shift he was working, which put him home at around three-thirty in the afternoons. After that first night, with the disclosures, and the threats, and the blows, Sasuke wasn't sure how his brother would behave. He didn't know if the admissions of Itachi's past shamed him, or if mention of Madara had him on edge, or even if his less than truthful story about Naruto was believed. He didn't know anything, because Itachi seemed to behave as if nothing had happened. And so he floundered.

He didn't believe for a moment that his brother had forgotten anything. Sasuke had broken his trust; naturally it would take time to repair it. He was keenly aware of the fact that the way to go about doing so did not entail his continued lies, but he couldn't –wouldn't- change his story.

Itachi seemed to be his usual self. His brother's distinctive brusque yet casual way of approaching things seemed firmly back in place. He smiled with Sasuke, laughed with him, ate with him, sometimes playfully wrestled with him even, but those smiles didn't quite reach his eyes. The laughter was slightly forced, and sometimes a fierce, desperate hug would be thrown into the wrestling. Sasuke concluded that his brother was trying to appear fine, when in fact nothing was fine. He didn't know the reason. Did Itachi believe him? Was he still mad at him? This, more than anything, was what scared him. The uncertainty.

He could not grasp the simple and insidious horror of realizing that his previously rock-steady relationship with his brother was now nothing but dust. Full understanding of this eluded him. He simply couldn't accept it, despite the ubiquitous nature of the knowledge; everywhere he turned he saw evidence of it. It was unavoidable. Though they both pretended otherwise, their bond had been broken. Worse, much worse, was the knowledge that he was the one who'd broken it.

He was torn. He spent the hours Itachi was at work closeted in his room with thoughts of Naruto, and the hours his brother was home, going through the motions of a carefree relationship. He didn't know what to do. He didn't have his brother, he didn't have Naruto, and to make a choice between the two would mean to give one of them up. Which he could not do, not ever.

The book. He had the book, and during his solitary hours, he would turn to it for comfort. He would hold it, smell it, and leaf through the pages. It was during these hours that he did at last come to a decision.

He couldn't betray Naruto by telling Itachi the truth. He couldn't re-open the subject of his lies with Itachi and risk discovering that they had not, in fact, been believed. That would put the whole mess on the table again, where it would be fair game. As hard as it was to bear, he preferred Itachi's mistrust to the prospect of facing more 'interrogation'. A second round would be ten times worse for Sasuke having told more lies. All that was aside from just what Itachi would do if he discovered Naruto. He didn't want to think about it. Which brought him back to the book, or rather to Naruto, whom he now associated with the book.

He'd been so happy up there on the mountain. Not a care in the world. Cherished. Wanted. Loved. In love. He desperately wanted to feel those things again, to end the ceaseless ache his separation from Naruto caused, and his break with his brother exacerbated. He wanted to escape his life.

Hugging his book close to his chest one night at the end of his second week away from Naruto, he made his choice. He made it knowingly, and in full knowledge of the potential consequences of his actions. He even spent several long minutes considering his brother's belief that he was endangering them. He didn't think so. No one knew he'd accessed Naruto. But if someone did know, and somehow Madara found them, he would own the blame. To that possible end, he would take additional precautions, but he could not sit in the city another day without seeing Naruto.

Moegi waited until all petitioners and whatever ambassadors were currently visiting the city were gone before announcing herself to the Chuunin on guard outside the Hokage's offices. She waited while one took her name in to The Fifth, and strode in briskly when told she could enter. The mechanized door slid shut behind her, hummed, then locked via several large bolts that were the circumference of her arm. The telltale green light signaling that the room had been soundproofed came on overhead. She walked to a spot three feet in front of the wide desk, and dropped to one fist and knee. Her head remained bowed in respect. "Hokage-sama."

Though nearing her eighth decade, Tsunade was still an imposing woman. This was largely due to the Henge technique she maintained in public. It was one thing to know your Hokage was seventy-eight, quite another to see her as such. Most civilians saw a pretty young woman, if they saw her at all, and believed her to be eternally youthful. This furthered the idea that she was strong and capable, and so enabled Konoha's citizens to reside in peace and security. She kept her public appearances to a bare minimum, perpetuating the myth, and intensifying the aura of mystery she knew surrounded any Kage.

Very few knew of her true appearance. Shizune had been one, but that worthy woman had contracted an incurable disease and died some years ago. Moegi was another. As soon as her offices were completely sealed, she bid the younger woman rise as she released her girlish looks.

Moegi watched it happen. It was a very faint, subtle process: the smooth skin gradually darkened, and sagged into wrinkles that grew more pronounced. The hair lightened until it was white and coarse, and the eyes grew faintly rheumy, though no less sharp and direct. The mouth was less firm, and the bosom predominantly flat. The hands were thinner. All in all, the process took several moments. It was like watching a time-lapse video. Moegi waited until she was addressed, frowning slightly at how much frailer the Hokage looked these days.

Tsunade drew a lockbox from a false bottom in a hidden drawer of her desk. She pressed her thumb to the tiny screen on the side to open it, and lifted out a coded file. "I have your monthly reports here," she said after reviewing the data briefly. "Has there been a change in him that necessitates this report being made in person?"

"Nothing overt, Hokage-sama, but I sense that there has been, yes."

"Speak."

Moegi dipped her head in acknowledgement of the invitation. "For the past month or so, I've sensed he's been…I can't explain it, Hokage-sama. Not happy. But less brooding. He hasn't said or done anything out of character for him, but there was a feeling I got when dropping off his groceries. Once, I… Hokage-sama, this is all my own opinion, you realize-"

Tsunade waved a hand impatiently. "Your opinions regarding him are always accurate. You've known him the longest. Continue."

"Yes, Hokage-sama." Moegi bowed her head once more, picking up her train of thought. "Once, I caught him smiling at nothing."

"You don't say?" Tsunade leaned forward, listening closely. Naruto never smiled. Period. At least, not in the presence of others.

"Yes. He saw me looking at him, though, and did nothing to hide his smile or explain it. It was small…but it was there, and seemingly without cause. However, last week, when I went up to leave his groceries…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know. I assume he's going about his daily tasks in some fashion, but… weeds are starting to overtake his garden. The gas in his truck hasn't budged from the last time I filled it, and…"

"And?"

"There's neglect evident elsewhere in his home. He won't talk to me. Not even the word or two I used to get from him before. Sometimes, I come and he's sitting on the veranda, staring at the lake. Most of the time, I get there and he's closeted away in his room. I think… I think something's wrong with him, Hokage-sama."

Tsunade sat back now, and let one fingertip rest against her lips. "Have you asked him about it?"

Moegi nodded. "Once. I asked if he was all right. He didn't reply."

"Do you feel this is a physical ailment, or some sort of malaise?"

Moegi thought long and hard, before submitting her answer. "I know you stay in your offices or your residence, and go out as little as possible, so you might not have sensed it, but… sometimes his chakra has been felt, Hokage-sama. By ANBU, by lesser ranks. Looking at him, I feel…I don't know. I feel he's…angry about something. Very, very angry."

"I see." Tsunade digested this, staring at the red-haired woman thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should check on him myself. I will do so, at the end of the month. In the meantime, keep a close eye on him."

Moegi bowed low. "As you command, Hokage-sama."

Naruto opened his eyes an hour before dawn on a Monday, and realized that he hadn't seen Sasuke in two weeks. He missed him no less, wanted him no less, and was no closer to forgetting about him. If anything, he missed him more, wanted him more, and thought of him with increased intensity.

He'd gotten maybe an hour of sleep. Probably less. He felt no urge to move from his bed. Nine o'clock was hours away.

He wondered if he would miss Sasuke forever. Logic suggested that time would erase the boy from his emotions, if he let it. There would come a day when he would forget the black hair, the quiet voice, the silent presence. This thought sickened him. He considered it a betrayal of intolerable proportions to even entertain the idea of forgetting Sasuke. By his own admission, Sasuke had no friends. Naruto considered Sasuke to be his friend. He would not forget him.

Then a choice needs to be made, he thought as the morning aged. Either he must claim Sasuke or forget him entirely, because even he realized that to go on as he was doing now would be to invite madness. He wasn't sure he wasn't mad already. Some days he felt as if he were.

He was not someone who vacillated when a decision had to be made, but this was one choice that was quite possibly beyond him. He wanted Sasuke, all of him. And he wanted to protect Sasuke from a doomed relationship. Wanting him was wrong, but it felt right. Avoiding Sasuke was right, but it felt wrong. Naruto's world, previously black and white for him, suddenly held a wealth of gray. He lay there for a long time, thinking.

-oOo-

His internal clock told him it was between seven and seven-thirty when the sensation came over him. It was the feeling he used to get around nine in the morning. The one that always told him whenever Sasuke had arrived.

He didn't question it or doubt it. He was up and off his bed, his bedroom door nearly torn off its hinges, and his house door thrown open with similar violence, as Sasuke was putting one foot on the bottom-most step of his porch.

Sasuke.

Naruto stood there, his breath gone, mind gone, and just took in the sight of him.

He felt an immediate absence of the anxiety he'd lived with for the past two weeks. Everything that had been raging and boiling inside of him settled down at once. His emotions slid back into place. He felt as if he were waking from a lengthy nightmare. Abrupt, and unexpected as it was, he knew peace again. This, too, he accepted without questioning; Sasuke was gone, but now he was back. End of story. He did not need to consider these events.

The boy stood timidly, picking his nails in an uncharacteristic show of nerves and doubt. Seeing this, aware of the courage it must have taken for Sasuke to come back after being sent away, Naruto found that he could make a choice after all. He stood back and held the door wide. Sasuke came up the steps and entered his house.

If either of them thought there would be relief from their separate hells once they were reunited, they were sadly mistaken. Naruto felt himself calm down, yes, but the moment he closed his door behind Sasuke, he felt his desire for the boy settle in his guts. It was more potent than it had ever been, sharpened by the separation, and now nigh on unbearable in its strength. And though his choice was made, he was still hesitant, still shackled by years of solitude and ignorance, so that as Sasuke turned to face him, he could do nothing but stand and stare at him in turn.

-oOo-

Sasuke felt choked by the need to be comforted. He'd run through Konoha, to the barricade, and up the mountain at top speed, driven –no, flogged by his need to be with Naruto again. He'd spent the past two weeks dreaming of him, thinking of him, and yearning for his touch; he had an image of Naruto welcoming him back with open arms firmly entrenched in his mind. That Naruto might tell him to get lost again never once occurred to him. He only wanted to escape the painful atmosphere of his home, and lose himself in the feel of being cherished that he'd experienced on the mountain.

When Naruto opened his door before he could even sit on the steps, he'd thought it would happen. That the man would welcome him, hold him, maybe even kiss him. He wanted it. Days and weeks of the book had refined his dormant sexuality so that his body now warmed and throbbed quite apart from any conscious thoughts of his own. This was despite his doubt regarding the pleasure of anal sex. He'd wanted to throw himself at Naruto when he'd seen him standing there, but he didn't. Almost at once, the many little things Naruto considered intrusive came back to him, and he automatically fell into his adherence of them. He entered when silently bidden to do so, turned, and waited.

-oOo-

A measure of time was set in motion then and there. A quiet ticking toward something they both knew was coming, but were both too reticent to address just then.

When the silence had stretched on too long to be ignored anymore, Naruto walked past Sasuke and went into his kitchen. He felt tears come to his eyes at the familiarity of hearing Sasuke follow him. How much he'd missed this simplest of acts did not bear consideration.

Sasuke realized something as he entered the kitchen behind Naruto. Namely, that his relationship with the guy was also broken. Unlike his break with his brother, though, he thought that it could be repaired. At least, he sensed a willingness from Naruto to repair whatever damage had been done to their fragile friendship. He set his bag against one of the table's legs and was about to sit, when Naruto did something unprecedented.

-oOo-

Naruto felt inexplicably close to Sasuke just then. With his choice dominating the majority of his thoughts, and the ticking keeping time in the back of his mind (he thought of it as a countdown), he thought that perhaps it would be wise to begin opening up a bit. To Sasuke only, of course. This wasn't easy to do by any means; he still preferred silence to anything. To him it was a much more efficient means of communication. Years, decades, of ruthlessly suppressing everything about himself threatened to make the job of opening up almost impossible, but he was aware that a bridge needed to be made between his preferences, and what Sasuke was likely used to if his choice was to come to fruition.

He was not in the habit of making idle conversation, so he did the next best thing. He retrieved a sharp knife and some vegetables from the fridge, and set them in front of Sasuke, along with a cutting board. He himself took out a whole chicken he'd defrosted the night before, and set about skinning and de-boning it.

The look of mild surprise on Sasuke's face was not lost on him. He had to smile inwardly at the way the boy gamely took hold of the knife and began competently dicing the vegetables. Somehow, he'd known Sasuke would prove adept in the kitchen. Any child who was as alone as much Sasuke seemed to be, would of necessity have to be self-reliant to some degree or another. The boy was likely in possession of a wealth of skills that Naruto fully intended to discover while building his little bridge.

They worked in silence. Naruto marveled at how easily he was able to let go of the embattled existence he'd been living during Sasuke's absence. He tried, but could detect no hint of rage or frustration in himself now. He actually paused in what he was doing, giving his emotions a thorough examination. Nothing. Peace, quiet, and sublime contentment. As if a tempestuous storm had blown over to be replaced with a cloudless sky and warm sunshine. This transformation had taken place the moment he'd laid eyes on Sasuke. He'd been too shocked and grateful then to do anything but accept it, but even now, giving it thought, he could find no argument against this development.

He was peripherally aware that Sasuke had stopped chopping. Naruto wondered at this, before he realized the boy was watching him. Likely, Sasuke thought Naruto's sudden stillness meant that he'd made a mistake. Naruto gave the veggies in front of the boy a deliberate glance and a small nod of approval. He saw Sasuke's shoulders relax slightly.

Though lunch was prepared early, they left it in the kitchen. Naruto, feeling positively buoyant, went outside to work in his garden. He saw the weeds and neglect as if for the first time, and set about rectifying the damage. Sasuke worked steadily at his side.

Hours passed, but they were barely felt. The time meant nothing to either of them. Nor were they precisely aware of what they were doing during those hours; their focus was entirely on each other. Each positively basked in the other's sorely missed presence. They pruned and weeded almost automatically, or cleaned the buildup of dust in Naruto's home, then went over every room again with furniture polish, brooms, and rags, and then once again with dusters. The veranda was swept of the fall leaves that had blown onto it, and minor repairs were made elsewhere in the house. The fixtures in the bathroom were polished until they shone like quicksilver, and the bedroom –Sasuke's first time inside it- was aired out.

-oOo-

Sasuke paused at the threshold to the bedroom. Habitué of Naruto's home that he was, this was one room the man had never allowed him to enter. The door had remained closed whenever they'd cleaned the house, and if Naruto had entered it, Sasuke had remained respectfully in the living room, aware that no invitation to follow had been issued.

This time, Naruto went down the hall towards his room, as usual. Sasuke stood at the living room doorway, prepared to wait until Naruto came out again, but there was a slight tilting of the blond head this time, a request almost, for him to follow. He'd gone. And When Naruto merely walked deeper into his room, Sasuke went in after him, after his brief hesitation of surprise.

The room was large. There was one huge bay window whose panes had handles that allowed each one to be opened or closed, much like a door. It provided a picturesque view of lake and sky. Beside the window was a door that led outside and onto the veranda. The veranda actually began with this door, Sasuke saw, and ended with the kitchen door at the other end of the house that also led onto it. Naruto opened the window and door, while Sasuke took in the rest of the room.

Despite the amount of open space around it, the bed didn't seem small. It was enormous no matter what angle you looked at it from, and seemed to grow right out of the floor; the posts at each corner of the bed were living trees. Upon closer inspection, the tree trunks were not solid structures, but a multitude of supple saplings braided and intertwined with each other so that they formed four twisting, winding posts. The saplings branched and grew in such a way that they also formed the headboard and footboard of the bed, and no doubt the platform upon which rested the massive mattress. High up near the ceiling, the saplings spread branches and actual leaves to form a thick canopy. Some of these branches were as thin and fine as vines, hanging down on either side of the bed. Their leaves were heart-shaped and green, unlike the browning leaves of the forests outside. Stepping back slightly, Sasuke squinted up past the canopy, where he could see a round skylight directly above the bed. The light it sent down onto the bed was filtered through the canopy, and tinted a muted green. Taking it all in, Sasuke's mouth hung open in wonder at such a construct. Who would have such a fantastical bed?

There were four wooden steps that led up to the mattress, which was so high that Sasuke couldn't see over it without rising to his toes. He looked to Naruto. The blue eyes were watching him. Naruto gave a tiny nod, then flicked his eyes around the room; permission for Sasuke to explore.

Sasuke stood on the first step leading to the bed and gazed at the surface. The quilt was a dark forest green, with a picture illustrated with thread and colored material. Twisting his head sideways, Sasuke saw what appeared to be a depiction of the city as it had been in the past…when it had been nothing more than a technology-challenged village. All the green turned out to be the forests surrounding the village. Suspended over this quaint scene in a rising arch were the heads of the Hokages. He frowned. There were six faces, instead of five. After Tsunade, there was the face of a kid wearing a grin so wide that it dominated his other features. The eyes were squinted shut. The hair was a bright sunny yellow. The forehead protector was shiny, done in silver thread. Looking back and forth between the Fourth Hokage and whoever this kid was, Sasuke could see a resemblance. He wondered if the kid's eyes were also blue…then he slowly tracked his gaze to where Naruto stood watching him.

Naruto's hair was a bit darker, leaning toward a dirty blonde, but that might be because the weather had changed. He could see the lighter locks from where the summer sun had kissed it.

He stepped down and turned away from the bed, heart rate picking up. Yes, there was the same kid in a picture frame on the chest of drawers. He walked slowly toward it.

The chest of drawers was clear except for three items, placed precisely twelve inches apart from each other. The item on the left was a silver chain, with an ornate, antique locket hanging from it. The locket lay open, revealing the pictures of a man and a woman, one in each half. He recognized the man as the Fourth Hokage, but the woman was a stranger. He saw long red hair, and smiling eyes. A kind face.

The middle item was a picture of the kid, but younger. He appeared to be standing with an Academy team. There was a pink-haired girl, and a black-haired kid wearing some weird kind of one-sleeved shirt. The Jounin in charge…Sasuke blinked. He'd read about that guy, the famous Copy Ninja. As far as stealth and true strength in the art went, Hatake Kakashi was right up there with the Kage. But back to the kid. The eyes were open here. He looked to be around twelve or so…same age as the kid on the quilt. Sasuke was certain it was the same kid. It made sense that a boy trained by the Copy Ninja himself would become the Sixth Hokage, especially if that kid was also the son of the Fourth.

The item on the right was another picture frame, and here Sasuke felt as if he'd been gut-punched. It was the kid, but older. Mid-teens or so. He was standing with another team, this one apparently his own. Sasuke saw a small boy wearing a blue scarf around his neck that dangled to the ground, a boy wearing glasses and in need of a tissue, and a girl with impossibly styled red hair. The kid, the one from the quilt and the middle picture frame, was wearing the locket. Sasuke checked the picture in the middle again, not having seen a locket in that one. Looking closely, he saw the hint of a chain around the kid's neck, but it disappeared beneath the front of his shirt. So the locket was there, too…which likely made the Fourth and the red-haired woman the kid's parents.

All this was not what drove the air from his lungs. It was seeing the older version of the kid…a younger version of Naruto. There were muscles in the final picture, a more serious expression, a taming of the over-eager smile. Naruto was the Fourth Hokage's son… and evidently the Sixth Hokage.