Whew, this chapter is… long. It took quite a while to write, to be honest. Setting out all this CONSPIRACEEEE stuff is a real pain in the butt – I suggest that if you find a continuity error you just kind of… sweep it away with a metaphorical brush.

And, thanks to you guys for reviewing~! 3 To answer you question, pompomwoop, this is in fact not the monstrosity I had in mind a while back~ that's still sitting around in a nonchalant manner, waiting to be prodded at with a stick.

Now that I'm on holiday, updates should be much easier to reel off. Hopefully.

Neatly tucked away in a well disguised adjoining bathroom, Orochimaru was lightly washing and fixing his hair in front of a gold-framed mirror. From where he stood, he could hear the steady tick of Madara's clock and it was beginning to agitate him more than it usually did. Though, that was likely due to an acute case of mental and physical fatigue… and a rather sore behind, which he was pointedly ignoring in a bitter fashion.

One matted section of hair, where it had been tugged with undue enthusiasm, was proving to be most uncooperative, and so when it refused to unclump at what seemed to be the twentieth attempt, Orochimaru slammed the palm of his hand down onto the cool marble counter only to be greeted with a deep chuckle wafting in from the study outside.

"Having some trouble?"

"… None at all, sir." Though this is all your bloody fault, Uchiha. He all but hissed in response, deciding that he would instead move on to putting his remaining clothes and accessories back on before some Uchiha employee walked into the study and got rather the unfortunately correct impression of what had occurred earlier.

He found his mind wandering as he buttoned up his elegantly embroidered waistcoat, and much to his displeasure, wafting back to thoughts of the conversation from earlier. Madara had yet to tell him exactly what he was supposed to, and probably would not do, but he had no doubt in his mind that every course of action was going to be moderated and planned for in that typically infuriating way the Uchiha head practiced. Orochimaru generally prided himself in his almost unfailing ability to find flexibility in a tight situation and that was part of what made him one of the greatest attorneys in the current judicial system, but if there was one man that could throw him off balance, it was the bastard sitting in the next room eating more of those bloody biscuits.

In fact, the whole situation surrounding the Uchiha massacre seemed odd to him – nothing fit, be it the perpetrator, the timing… He had met Itachi once or twice before and had been struck by what a calm and loving boy he seemed to be (much to his amusement and partial disgust), and he could not think of anything that would cause him to go off the deep end and murder all but two of his relatives. That was another thing that seemed strange; Sasuke and Madara survived. Well, Madara was not such a surprise, indeed Orochimaru was fairly certain he had more than a small part in planning the killing, but the younger Uchiha brother…? At fifteen, would he really have enough hatred or motive?

Furthermore, if Madara was involved, which he so clearly was, the timing and risk taken would make absolutely no sense. He was due to be standing for city mayor in two months, and getting himself implicated in such an affair would just have been foolish. So why? Surely there was absolutely nothing to gain from having his family killed, be it public pity or even silencing those who knew too much about his criminal dealings.

Indeed, Orochimaru smiled wryly at this. If there was anyone in the world who knew as much about Madara Uchiha's heavy hand in the criminal underworld it was himself, the man unfortunate enough to have been caught up in several… messes in the past with him. It was the consequences of these affairs that left Orochimaru so stuck by the Uchiha Leader's side, acting as nothing short of his highly influential and undeniably useful, and this thought pained him greatly, toy – the sheer thought made him angry.

With another irritated gesture, he distracted himself by carefully observing his surroundings, taking in the honestly quite beautiful bathroom, presumably installed for the sake of nights where Madara was forced to stay in his office all night. Although, such a travesty had probably not occurred for some while as the man never seemed to do any work whatsoever. At least, not when Orochimaru was around which admittedly far more often than he would have liked.

He was again distracted from his thoughts by the sound of hurried footsteps and a door crashing open. Quickly glancing into the mirror and taking note of his still dishevelled state, hair still bound by a sticky substance in some places, Orochimaru determined that he was probably best staying in the bathroom and hoping that whoever the intruder was did not notice his presence there. The last thing he needed was some scandal perpetrated by some lowly errand boy of Madara's, but at least this way he could try and ascertain what was being said in the next room and perhaps learn something new about the sod he was forced to deal with on a regular basis.

He was surprised by whose voice he heard. "Uncle, we need to talk. Now."

"Ah, Sasuke my dear boy! Have a seat, and if you would like, a biscuit." There was an ominous pause. "That goes for you as well, my dear." Madara replied, clearly the last address aimed at Orochimaru, who cursed under his breath. So much for remaining unseen and unnoticed by the intruder. In many ways, this visitor was far worse than any random employee could have been – this one, Orochimaru would be dealing with in the future, so being seen in such a… questionable state would almost spell disaster.

Unless of course, he was as good a liar which he had made his name on – which indeed he was. Smirking at his chosen course of action, he sauntered out of the bathroom, well aware that his shirt was still slightly unbuttoned at the top and his hair was a display of indecency. He raised a hand slightly in what he hoped was a nonchalant greeting. "Good to see you, Sasuke. And indeed, sir, I would love a biscuit."

The boy was apparently not expecting to see who he assumed was his uncle's pet lawyer. Especially not in such a blatant display of prior frisky behaviour, and Sasuke was thus stunned into silence, temporarily forgetting the reason he had come.

"Sasuke, I believe we have had the good fortune of meeting once or twice in the past – however, to refresh your memory, I am the one and only Orochimaru, every inch as talented as you have doubtless heard and then a little more on the side."

Madara laughed in good humour, offering up his biscuit tin to his alabaster skinned lawyer. Admittedly, he had expected his 'friend' to try and scrabble around for an excuse to stay in the bathroom, but this unexpected behaviour was one of the main reasons he was so fond of Orochimaru. Trust him to utterly abandon decency and image and come out demanding a biscuit, singing his own praises with absolutely no shame.

Sasuke merely stared at the flamboyant man in front of him before shaking it off and turning back to his uncle. "Look, we need to talk."

"Indeed, you said that earlier." He replied, learning back into his chair contentedly not before snatching the biscuit tin away from Orochimaru who seemed to be on the verge of quite happily polishing it off; undaunted however, he moved to the back of the room, apparently fully intent on listening in on the conversation. Fine by me – let's feed the hungry attorney, Madara thought with a smirk before turning his attention fully on his slightly unstable looking nephew. "Actually, Sasuke, I recall instructing your good butler not to let you out of the house. You do require your rest."

The boy merely scoffed at this, clenching the arms of his chair with certain desperation. "I snuck out. No matter – he…" Apparently, he was having difficulty with processing thoughts, let alone his words. "That… Itachi."

"You believe he was unjustly persecuted?" Madara responded airily, already having anticipated exactly what was the matter with his youngest relative. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Orochimaru leafing through his books. Clearly he'd have to remind him 'gently' later that he did not appreciate his belongings touched.

"Something like that," Sasuke replied hastily, breathing uncharacteristically quickly. If he was anything less of a self proclaimed heartless bastard, Madara would have felt sorry for his relative. However, he was not, and so he simply found his nephew's state really quite amusing although, giving the pretence of pity he knitted his eyebrows in mock concern before being addressed again. "Look – he… doesn't… he doesn't deserve life."

Madara raised his eyebrows. Unsurprisingly he was correct in his assumption, but his nephew didn't quite need to know that. "Sasuke, Sasuke… You have had a trying day." He leant forward and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, feeling that perhaps brining up consolation biscuits would be a little inappropriate. Not to mention he had been generous enough that day. "Please, do not be so harsh on your brother. Surely, he had a reason for… for what he did."

Clearly enraged, Sasuke slammed his hands down on the desk causing it to jump slightly. "Uncle, you're not that naïve, stop it!" He let out a shaky breath, and apparently something clicked in his head, and so he turned to Orochimaru who was still fingering Madara's books. "The death penalty." He said. "You're a lawyer – can you get him the death penalty? You can, can't you? Work for me and help me kill him! I'll do whatever's necessary, so bloody hell, please!"

There was a tense moment as the alabaster skinned man considered the question, not bothering to seek permission from Madara as to whether going along with this would suit his plan. He abandoned the files that had previously held his interest so tightly, and walked painfully slowly over to the desperate teenager. "I am certain - and mark my words on this," he began, "that life in the prison your monstrous brother Itachi now finds himself in is several times worse than any death you could write for him would be-"

"But-"

"Let him finish, boy." Madara commanded harshly, highly interested in what his favourite toy was saying. Sasuke let out a vexed noise yet remained silent, desperate to hear a professional opinion on what he so badly desired.

"However, my dear boy, a client's wish is a client's wish." Orochimaru replied with an eerily charming smile.

The teenager's eyes almost shone in delight and he slowly brought himself to his feet, barely able to restrain a relieved smile. "Oh, god, thank you, this is—"

"And given that your uncle is my client, I think therefore, my answer is no, Sasuke-kun."

Orochimaru didn't think he'd ever heard Madara laugh so hard as he did when Sasuke abruptly stood up and marched out, indignation and despair darkening his features.

Sasuke had been received back home with servants rushing to meet him, brushing snow off his shivering form. His butler had stormed up to him and had given him a gentle lecture on not going out of the house until he felt more up to going about daily activities, but he had barely listened. Instead, he trudged up to his room without a word, eyes darkened with the bitter taste of failure. He had considered trying another lawyer, but if the things he'd heard about Orochimaru were true, he was utterly invincible in a court room and had far too many connection to far too many people. Going against him was probably a feat people had lost incredible amounts of futile money over.

It was probably hopeless. His brother would get away with a comfortable life in jail, his uncle would probably succeed with whatever he was up to, and Sasuke would be left to carry the dirty burden those two left behind. Was he supposed to continue on to university like this? Just… forget?

Heaving a heavy sigh, he buried himself down into his bed, diving beneath the covers and hugging a hot water bottle that some considerate servant had left out for him. They had their uses, occasionally.

Lying in his bed, the day's events simply replayed over and over again in Sasuke's mind. He had thought that things would start to make sense after visiting his uncle, that maybe he'd reveal one or two things, or perhaps that he'd turn out to be a great guy after all who shared his nephew's sentiments on having Itachi die. Clearly he had been mistaken, Sasuke thought bitterly, eyes narrowed.

Clearly he had been mistaken about Itachi. In fact, probably the only thing he was right about was that his uncle was a nasty piece of work, but even then he'd seen him so little of him these past few years that he really knew nothing about him.

Vexed, Sasuke closed his eyes. It was unlike him to give up so easily, and in the past many had told him how stubborn he could be – indeed, the question was who was more stubborn, himself or the wanton attorney? With a direction in mind, he decided on the next day's events and then, satisfied, let sleep and sweet memories take him.

The young boy blinked in confusion and then let out a squeak of alarm when a leaf lightly bumped him on the nose before continuing it's path to the ground. To his side, another boy, older, laughed lightly and patted his younger brother on the head.

"Sasuke, it's a leaf."

"It attacked me! And when I'm so tired, too!" The boy pouted and kicked at the autumn leaves gathering at his feet as though they were crabs crawling up to get him.

Itachi, having taken the hint, smiled lightly and offered his back up to Sasuke, who leapt on to it with glee. "We're not that far from home, brother. Don't get too comfortable."

Indeed, the two of them had been playing in the forest not far from the Uchihas' summer house south of Konoha. The younger of the siblings had ripped clothes to show for it, with small twigs sticking to his clothes, his knees muddy from where he had crouched down behind trees trying to hide from his brother. Of course, Itachi was maintaining a much more respectable image, knowing full well their father would be displeased if they came back with both of them looking like street urchins.

After a good twenty minutes of walking in comparative silence, Sasuke finally summed up the courage to ask his big brother a question. "Hey, um, why has our uncle been so mean lately…? He takes my pens from my hand and he eats my snacks and…"He stopped, realising his brother probably didn't want to hear him whine.

It was a while before Itachi replied to Sasuke's question, his twelve year old self not quite sure. "I think it's because of Mr. Senju."

"Oh, they were friends, wasn't they…?"

"'Weren't', Sasuke. However, I'm not so sure about that. Maybe they used to be before…" Itachi trailed off. "Either way, his disappearance was a while ago. Even if Uncle Madara is being unusually grumpy, that doesn't really affect us now, does it?" He finally managed a smile, jumping slightly to jerk his brother back into cheer. Of course, jumpy motions never failed to cheer up the boy, and Sasuke was instantly back to chirping in Itachi's ear, grinning all the while.

"Sir, um…"

"For goodness's sake, Kabuto, what?"

"Your cravat is… off centre." The young man in glasses withered under his boss' piercing glare. "Um, sorry. Simply thought you should know."

Orochimaru snorted in derision before setting down his cutlery upon his porcelain lunch plate and jerking at his apparently offensive ruffles. There was one man and one man alone to blame for them being out of place – and to be honest, it was not just the cravat that Madara Uchiha had shaken up earlier that day. He was irate enough at being called out to the Uchiha mansion, not even the office, at eight in the morning, only to find Madara lounging around in bed. Apparently it was fine to drag his subordinates out to see him without him even needing to stand up.

Regardless, the morning had, all rudeness aside, been highly interesting. Whilst Madara's scheme was veritably barmy, and he could almost physically feel his free time being corroded (and it was highly unpleasant), he could not disguise the distinct twinge of excitement he so rarely got these days. The excitement of a new, thrilling case; and this one promised to be one of the most explosive to date.

Indeed, he could hardly wait for his visit to the prison later that day in order to visit his darling new client, Itachi.

But first… "Kabuto, what is that dejected looking boy doing in my waiting room?"

For what seemed to be the 20th time that day, Kabuto Yakushi let out a long, heavy sigh. His boss truly was hard work. Beyond hard work – he was a life time worth of dedication and loyal servitude and then some. "Sir, Sasuke Uchiha has been beginning to see you for hours."

Orochimaru considered this with a pensive expression, almost appearing vaguely troubled. "Yes, I suppose he might have been. Tell him to leave me to my paperwork and cheer up."

"Sir, his family just died." The white haired secretary replied, getting the distinct impression that something highly momentous had been happening as of late. Something that he was not privy to.

Apparently, the significance of Sasuke's plight was utterly lost on Orochimaru as he merely arched an eyebrow. "… Is that supposed to be of any consequence? He has already pestered me today, and my answer shall not be changing. Honestly, is my life to be plagued by the Uchiha family?" He gave a melodramatic sigh as he raised his lacquered hand to his heart and swept back over to his sinfully comfortable arm chair. Really, it was more of a specially commissioned throne, but saying such a thing was a certain way to displease a power-hungry boss, and said boss looking for blood was the last thing Kabuto needed during his Friday lunching hour. Of course, not that the time or day of the week ever mattered – an Orochimaru was for life, after all, not Monday morning to Friday evening.

Something, however, seemed at odds in the situation and Kabuto did not hesitate in reproaching his boss about it. "Sir, I thought you were keen to gain access to Uchiha Sasuke?"

"Oh, I am. However, dear Madara…" much to Kabuto's surprise, that name was spoken without the usual contempt, "…has frankly offered me a much more entertaining alternative. Tell Sasuke-kun to go home and play with his mother and father."

Kabuto paused, offering a slightly reproachful cough in response.

Making a noise of vexation from within his cushioned confines, Orochimaru quietly wondered whether he should dispose of his secretary for such insolence. After all, others had done much less and gotten much worse in the past. Quite frequently, really. Deciding that he was far too excited to yell at anyone, he resigned to his secretary's attempt at subtlety. "… Alright, tell him to go home and play with his mother and father's corpses, then."

And so, with trepidation, Kabuto Yakushi did exactly that.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sasuke replied, fists clenched firmly in indignation. "What did you just say?" His voice reverberated around the polished waiting room, causing a stout looking man to drop his steaming cup of tea with a squeak on to the exotic Persian rug. Kabuto sighed heavily, offering a consolatory shrug of the shoulders. Consolatory, yet utterly useless – that man would undoubtedly be 'made redundant' by an irate Orochimaru, doubtlessly ranting about the importance of respecting beauty.

Apparently, Sasuke felt absolutely no remorse about causing a man to lose his job, and instead repeated his question, taking a step forward and gathering up Kabuto's collar in his shaking fists. The secretary merely sighed again and shook his head to the greatest extent his situation would allow.

"He's terribly stubborn, and his answer was a definitive 'no'. I am sorry, though."

The boy let out an inelegant noise of irritation, dropping Kabuto. "Look – do you know why? Madara can't be paying him that much; my uncle is a stingy… a stingy bastard."

Having had no idea what was going on, Kabuto's ears perked up instantly at the mention of the Uchiha leader, and glanced furtively towards Orochimaru's door. Satisfied that he was probably not being watched, he lowered his tone and bent in towards Sasuke.

"Look, I don't know what's going on at all – you, however do. Tell me everything and I suspect I could probably plead your case better with Lord Orochimaru." It was his duty to protect his boss, after all, and he could hardly do that when he wasn't privy to all of his actions and consorts, and if there was ever a dangerous business partner, it was Madara Uchiha. Not that Kabuto knew how the two knew each other, nor why his boss spent so much time at the Uchihas' building, nor why he worked for Madara for what was essentially very little money.

Sasuke, meanwhile, felt the first glimmer of hope he had since being so cruelly shot down the previous day. "Whatever you want to know, I'll do my best to supply the information."

The two young men nodded at each other conspiratorially, the elder handing over the name of what Sasuke assumed to be a restaurant scribbled on a piece of paper. The secretary had the handwriting of a doctor, he thought wryly.

"Be there tomorrow at 1 – if I'm late, you need only consider who my boss is." He stated simply before turning on his heel and marching back into Orochimaru's office through the needlessly decorated door.

Sasuke stood still for a moment before letting out the smallest of smiles. He'd get Itachi, even if it took him years, and he'd do it legally.

A suspiciously bright light awoke Itachi, and upon opening his eyes and sitting up with a jerk, he found himself face to face with a blue man holding an oil lamp. He let out a noise of alarm and backed away with surprising grace, given he had been asleep not 10 seconds previously. Realising that acting so uncharacteristically concerned would get him nowhere; he straightened his back and adopted a face of nonchalance.

The blue man smiled disconcertingly, revealing rows upon rows of pearly white, serrated teeth. "Mornin' sunshine!"

Itachi coughed in spite of himself, not quite sure what to make of the oddly coloured man in his cell. "Good… morning?"

They stared at each other in a slightly awkward state for a while before the blue man punctuated the silence again. "I'm Kisame."

"That's… that's nice." Again, Itachi mentally scolded himself for coming across as so ineloquent – this was most unlike him, yet depressingly he simply couldn't muster the energy to present himself with any dignity. "… Itachi. Itachi U—"

"Uchiha, right?" Kisame barked a laugh and clapped a hand on Itachi's shoulder before unexpectedly helping him up. "There probably isn't a soul here that doesn't know that name."

Itachi paused, recalling with a sombre frown that thanks to the publicity his crime and trial had attracted, indeed, he would need no introduction. He had originally hoped that at least incarcerated, he would not be so recognized but apparently this jail was well informed.

He looked over to his blue companion, who was eyeing him up and down curiously and upon seeing Itachi's slightly downcast face, he stopped this immediately. "Say, want some lunch?"

This question caught Itachi off guard. He barely remembered what Konan had told him the day before, but he was certain that the lunch hour was around midday. "Is… is it really that late?"

"You normally an early bird then? You've been asleep since something crazy like eight yesterday. Eight! Say, did you know…"

Itachi let himself be led out of his cell by his new friend, if he could be called that, far too dazed to really object to or question anything he was presented with. He was vaguely aware of walking down a series of dark corridors, lined with cells much like his own before ascending a flight of stairs he could not recall descending the previous day. If someone asked Itachi where he thought he was, he'd probably have given them a blank stare, and quietly he hoped that his blue skinned companion would stay with him long enough to guide him back to his cell. He did not fancy asking any of the other prisoners for assistance.

Indeed, his 'fellow' criminals had done nothing but eye him with dark grins and offer up tasteless comments concerning the Uchiha massacre. Some had even shouted approving congratulations to him, which had left the dazed Itachi feeling truly sick to his stomach.

Throughout the journey, he had been in a state of half thought. Whilst he was uncertain exactly how this 'Kisame' just happily waltzed into his cell which was supposed to be high security, he couldn't bring himself to ask. Instead, giving up on contemplation, he listened passively to his talkative companion's words, absorbing absolutely nothing with a resigned bow of the head.

"This is the rest of my life…?" He muttered quietly to himself, instantly silencing Kisame. He had not meant to say that aloud.

His companion eyed him with something half way between surprise and pity. "It's not too bad – really." They met eyes, and Itachi found himself surprised by the honesty which Kisame had managed to summon up in his smile. "Really, that's a promise."

The amount of Itachi in this fic will increase exponentially from this point on, now that he's so happily settled in jail.

Awww, who's a good little friend making Uchiha~? *wibble*