Chapter Eight: Slip

Had anyone told Sasuke seven years, a month or even a day before, he would not have believed them. He lived his life by certain principles, and always had. He had goals, and he had pride. It all came down to a few simple facts –all of which seemed to be ceasing to apply in reverse order of importance.

He switched his phone from one ear to the other and searched his jacket pockets for a tissue, unsurprisingly finding none –he wasn't supposed to need any on this little non-smoking smoking break, after all. Rather than going back inside or walking around the premises in search of a vending machine, he blew his nose on the hem of his gown (under which he had thankfully been allowed to wear pants). They would just give him a new one later.

But it hadn't really started tonight, had it? There had been warning signs.

One was how much he genuinely enjoyed his new job as the face of what was no longer his brother's band. The audience loved the new, even darker Akatsuki, and the songs in which many paid for the sins of few, a black fire burned forever and everything was an illusion came from deeper in Sasuke's soul than he should have been comfortable to reveal.

He was writing them now, you see.

He had been asked to, even, and to his surprise he had gladly accepted. Supposedly it was to rub it in Itachi's face harder, but that he hadn't cared when Itachi hadn't cared should definitely have set off alarms.

And tonight? Well, last night, by now; it had to be almost six in the morning by now, five thirty at the very least.

So he had wanted to celebrate their newest and so far best record contract and gotten in a fight with some rapper in the process. It could happen to anyone. How had it led to this?

Sasuke dabbed at his eyes with another spot on his truly anti-fit cotton garment (well, it wasn't any more revealing or billowy than the pirate shirt he performed in, but that he had at least picked out himself), wondering if he could have still stopped the proverbial snowball before or after he woke up here.

Judging by the digits on the devices in the room that most looked like they might be telling the time, it was about five.

At first he thought he was having a nightmarish version of a flashback.

Everyone was outside his room again –and he did mean everyone. Even that weirdo Sai from the high school art club had shown up (Sasuke had heard Kakashi ask him to be more discreet about taking pictures), and the only time he remembered having talked to him was when the ash-pale boy had smuggled his pet rat to class and it had crawled into Sasuke's bag. Did this guy not understand how traumatizingly embarrassing it was to have to tell the teacher a rodent literally ate your homework?

Naruto wouldn't sit still and had to keep announcing he was going out and coming back, over and over. Obito and grandpa were apparently arguing about which one's parenting methods were more to blame for this. Someone was crying, and it was probably Sakura.

A nasal treble chided Sasuke's party-buddies for being so careless. A creaky yapping threw back that Karin had been in the bathroom when it started, and it wasn't their fault they had been distracted by a bunch of cosplayers who'd somehow thought their Star Wars stormtrooper costumes were supposed to be samurai. Before Ino and Suigetsu could further fuel his headache, Juugo calmly told them Sasuke wouldn't want his friends fighting.

Damn right. At least if they were doing so within his earshot.

"Still nothing," an all-too familiar voice suddenly said, following a set of approaching, swift footsteps.

"We'll try again in the morning," one he hadn't heard before that night immediately replied, "He is stable now, and it's night there as well."

"No… he's not, is he?" They had to be standing really close to the door, judging by how quiet their voices had gotten and that he could still make out words –even a sigh from the other one.

"Naruto…"

"In the long run, I mean. I guess that's what you were trying to tell me, huh?"

Sasuke perked up –did they mean him? Was there something no one had bothered to tell him about the seriousness of his condition?

"Come sit down."

"No, there must be something I…"

The voices trailed further away and got lost among the others. Sasuke strained his hearing, but only got what he had already labeled as noise. He did feel like he'd swallowed acid (of the corrosive, not the psychedelic kind) and gotten struck by a lightning and smashed under a giant brick, and he could say without much exaggeration that every the cell in his body ached. He was probably on painkillers, too, so it had to be much worse without the medication.

He was just about to pull off his IV drip and whatever else was limiting his movement to turning around on the metal bed, to follow the voices and ask when the door opened.

Gaara simply stared for a moment. "…Do you need help?" he asked, and glanced at the bathroom door.

"Huh? No, I'll live," Sasuke muttered, and smoothed the tape holding a tube in place back onto his hand, "unless there's something I should know, that is." Gaara closed the door behind him, and the picture seemed to be missing something. "Where's your husband?"

"Naruto is asleep."

That would be the only reason Sasuke could think of, too, for why they weren't within inches of each other. The apartment they had finally scraped up together was spectacularly tiny, but they had appeared not to mind, on account of probably sitting in each other's lap all the time anyway.

"The police will want to talk to you soon," Gaara told him. "Do you think you're up to it?" Sasuke thought about it, and nodded. Better to have it over sooner, though first he would like to get a few answers himself. Gaara seemed to understand he didn't mean right now, and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. "I'm sure you'll get off with paying the damages, but tell them everything you remember. We're not lying for you this time."

"Damage? To the rapper guy?" Sasuke balked. "I never laid a finger on him; his brother's a former pro wrestler and a lawyer! I'm not that stupid!"

"I know, I met him," Gaara replied, unfazed. "It appears he has now been hired by the restaurant owner, who is the one seeking compensation."

"That's just because I'm an Uchiha!"

Figures. He knew the restaurant had been a bad choice, being owned by half of the once-legendary duo Hanzo&Danzo, who claimed grandpa Madara had screwed them over with the marketing of their comeback album. Truth be told, he had picked that joint specifically to flaunt his success.

"And probably because you broke two of his windows. He understands you didn't mean to harm him, but he did get glass shards on his arm and face, and almost lost an eye."

Sasuke said nothing.

Gaara sighed again. "Karin is afraid of you."

That had to be a joke, and not a very good one. Karin scared him sometimes; she wasn't too right in the head. During their time looking for Itachi, she had declared she was his... something called 'arurekkiino-chan' (a harlequin?) and that he was her 'jookaa-sama', and Sasuke hadn't bothered to even acknowledge that by correcting her about how the fictional couple his brother had later mentioned was from some gaijin comics he had was hardly the most romantic one to pick as an example. She was irreplaceable as a band member, though, so he put up with her.

Sasuke snorted, but Gaara's stare stayed serious. "Apparently you bit her," he said in what sounded like a plea for an explanation.

"I don't remember that," was all he could say, because he didn't. A nod told him that wasn't a surprise. Instead of filling him in, though, his companion fell silent and leaned away, crossing his arms.

Sasuke studied him sitting there staring at a wall in his ostensible pragmatism. He couldn't help the impression Gaara was holding back a lash-out, and he had to wonder why. This wasn't his business, strictly speaking. Just when he thought he wasn't going to say anything more,

"…Do you know what about Naruto and I had our first fight?"

Sasuke quirked a brow. Was this a trick question? Maybe his not being stable had to do with memory and this was a test. "Yeah, I was there. The whole school was."

That triggered a tiny, wistful smile. "No, I mean as a couple –just today, actually. I had a… conversation with my siblings, concerning my future. There was some disagreement over what was brought up as the biggest obstacle to our careers."

"What, besides the fag thing?"

Gaara closed his eyes, and if it hadn't been so brief Sasuke would have thought he was counting to ten. Alright, maybe that had been a little uncalled for.

"I don't think that's as big a problem as it might have seemed to be," Gaara shrugged. "We aren't even the first ones… although probably the first ones who came out before retirement."

Sasuke nodded along. He had read the tabloids, too, and that Yagura fellow had been on them all week. Gaara turned to look at him.

"It's you."

"Huh? Oh… I see." Sasuke scowled back. "So that's how it is." Gaara wouldn't look away, and he glared harder because the dolt didn't seem to realize he was supposed to look angry when saying something like that. Then again, why was he angry himself? "Well, you know what, that's just fine."

No answer apart from the continued stare.

"I expected as much anyway," he intoned with precision, proud of not sounding bitter, because he was not. "You're going to be a politician, right? So at least you're starting to act like one. I'll leave you alone and you don't have to worry about me ruining your spotless repu– "

"We are worried about you, Sasuke."

He was used to that voice not having a whole lot of inflection, but now that it was obviously trying to stay level he couldn't help but notice how far from the detached monotone Gaara had actually come.

"I… I'm fine, really," he said back, warily. "I'll probably be out of here first thing in the morning."

"A little more broadly than that. I don't think it's too late for you to find a direction for your life that doesn't get you back here again."

"And I said I'm fine," Sasuke hissed. "Stop sounding like you're about to hand me a pamphlet."

"How much did you drink?"

Sasuke ground his teeth together. Oh yes, he could see what Gaara was trying to do. "One beer, for your information." The redhead didn't look convinced. "Obviously a bad idea, I get it, but I thought I could handle that much." It was completely hypocritical to demand total abstinence of him just because he had had trouble with the stuff before –he wasn't some lightweight baby. How about taking that speech to Sakura, who had mistaken Naruto for Lee and proceeded to deliver him the most embarrassing love confession ever, after just a few toasts at their graduation party?

"I know the blood alcohol concentration you had when you were brought in. Try again."

"I must have accidentally taken a sip from Suigetsu's glass."

Blue-green eyes looked at him with disappointment, and he supposed he could relate. He could have come up with a better one. "Suigetsu is a recovering alcoholic as well. He only drank water." Sasuke winced at the term. He could swear he had made clear at some point he did not like having that label applied to himself.

"Then somebody else switched their drink with mine…"

"There is a receipt of your purchases."

"Alright, so I probably got completely shit-faced all on my own!" he snapped. "It was just this one time, okay! And I'm not paying a yen to that old coot for letting his bartender serve me alcohol when I'm sure he's read the papers and should know bet– DON'T TOUCH ME!!" He tried to pull his hand out of the one that had suddenly closed around it, but the grip was firm.

The waiting room behind the door was suddenly completely silent.

A small drop of warm, clear liquid fell on his arm, and now Sasuke had to get out of there! He didn't even feel sad about this! Why would he…

He looked up to another tear running down from the blue-green eyes he now noticed were more bloodshot than he remembered them to have been even during their insomnious childhood days. Oh shit.

He'd made Gaara cry.

He was in so much trouble.

"I consider you a friend," a soft voice told him with an unfamiliar quaver. Sasuke felt himself tense, and he must have hidden his perplexedness pretty badly, because Gaara felt compelled to add, "Is it really that big a surprise?"

He was just about to remind Gaara that those were the exact words the redhead had told Naruto a week before he had had the misfortune to walk in on them making out, but thought better of it.

"No," he hurried to reply instead, and it was the truth. He knew a lot of people considered him a friend –for what reason, he couldn't always fathom. He considered some of them his friends, too, and Gaara was among the first. He just couldn't see what there was to gain from pointing it out when everyone knew.

"Do you truly wish I didn't?"

Sasuke found himself shaking his head. He supposed that was true, too.

"When I was a child, 'friends' was simply a list of screen names I could collect by clicking something in another user's profile," Gaara divulged. "It was supposed to be something desirable, but I just couldn't see the point. It was merely a status symbol, or a tool for getting things I wanted. And so, I didn't have much use for this thing called 'friends'.

"Actually sharing things with other people –real things, not just files– pain and sadness, even happiness… That was a weakness, trusting someone enough to let them know I have feelings, too," he went on. Sasuke could feel his free had twitching with the urge to do something to shut him up. "Then, I met–"

"Naruto," Sasuke spat out impatiently to finish for him; he already knew this part. Rude though it might be, he wanted to remind this friend of his (who, by the way, had never bothered to send in a request to friend him) that now was no time to start gushing about his manic pixie dream boy.

Gaara blinked away tears in surprise, and then smiled in that sad, small way he hated. It made him want to do things he might regret.

"All of you," he was corrected.

Sasuke involuntarily repeated in his mind the 'meeting', starting in reverse order from what had then seemed like an effective method to end it (he then recalled the eloquent right hook had been preceded by a comment about a backpack that looked like a ballsack, which had been a wholly justifiable comeback to a remark about a hairdo that looked like it had gotten stuck in a vacuum cleaner), and his hand twitched again when Gaara squeezed the other one. He was beginning to scare himself.

Then the flashback got to the little monologue preceding the insults, and the still eerily familiar look those now-leaky eyes had had in them as it had been delivered. He understood a little better, nowadays, where that confidence in the words' finality had stemmed from. And he supposed maybe it wasn't such a mystery after all, how this strange young man who wouldn't let him ignore him and that crazy brat who had gone out of his way to point out to him he was ignoring everybody could be the same person.

And, he understood it wasn't punching someone who was sobbing practically into his shoulder and clutching his fingers for comfort, that he kept wanting to do.

Now he really scared himself.

Cue dramatic lightning as he exited the building.

The rainstorm he walked into had been in the air all evening and night, and that it had finally broken out seemed to reflect his own mood. Suddenly he could understand the fascination Nagato had had with such a commonplace thing.

He hadn't thought about the supposedly-not anorexic man since his disappearance from their lives, but he wondered now if he should have said something to Konan about it before she, too, disappeared. Or sent something, whatever you were supposed to do –another missed opportunity to display manners, he supposed.

Naruto had, but then again Naruto had blamed himself for it. Sasuke had thought he was being an idiot. Surely even Naruto Uzumaki couldn't be so irritating that a bit of heart-to-heart with him could make a guy kill himself, and when the note left behind remembers to apologize for even some frogs its writer killed as a kid, you know it had been just a matter of time anyway. But apparently, the night before, he and Nagato had had a 'deep and philosophical conversation about life and literature' which he suspected to have contributed to the decision –and those were his exact words. Sasuke would have thought he was being sarcastic, if he didn't know about the famously book-dumb blond's years of exposure to the other skinny redhead in their lives.

Sasuke sighed out some of the fresh air he had wanted to get (not likely with the particulate matter it had, but maybe the rain was helping with that at least, and he had inhaled worse things). Damn Gaara.

He wanted to regret what he had eventually done before coming out here, but even that seemed difficult. Could this night get any more confusing?

He sat on a bench under the canopy near the hospital entrance, and careful of the patch the random nurse he'd persuaded to rid him of the now unnecessary drip had put on the needle hole, stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His fingertips caught a hold of his cell phone, and on a whim he dug it out. The time was apparently 05:22.

He had set the thing on mute before going to the restaurant, and there was an unanswered call from just fifteen minutes ago. The caller ID was unmistakable.

Feeling he might regret this as well (and not the least because of the resulting bill, though surely he wasn't broke), he called back.
His brother's voice when he answered was tired, but not sleepy.

Itachi told him Susan sent him her love, to which Sasuke just said an awkward 'thanks', because he didn't really know her –she was Itachi's internet girlfriend, not his. He told Itachi he was fine, and, since he didn't seem to know that yet, that he was at a hospital. And that yes, he was fine now, and even why he was there. Itachi was quiet for a while, and Sasuke didn't know what to expect to hear next.

"Hm. I suspected it's about you when I saw Naruto has been trying to call me all night. I surmise he decided to eat crow and admit he can't keep an eye on you as he bragged he would" was what he got.

Had he now? What did Itachi know about that? Was the dobe now his spy or something?

"Listen, I'll be home later today; in the afternoon unless the airport personnel thinks Amaterasu needs another check for concealed weapons of mass destruction," his brother continued, surprising him. Such a quick return wasn't part of the schedule he had originally announced for his vacation across the ocean. "Stay out of trouble until then."

"Save the moral lecture," Sasuke muttered listlessly. He would have liked to come up with something cleverer, but nights like this left the worst hangovers, and that wasn't even due to his earlier intoxication. "I've already had enough people cry tears of blood for my poor soul to start a bank tonight. I get it." Itachi went quiet again, keeping him in suspense.

Then it occurred to him that maybe he was waiting for him to go on. He wasn't sure how to do that. For the first time since he could remember he had no script for a conversation with his brother.

"Did you get the last memo?" he asked in a change of subject, referring to his habit of keeping the band members informed of things considering Akatsuki by group mail. That was the Uchiha brothers' primary method of communicating, really.

Yes, they still lived in the same house. Yes, the house was big enough that they didn't have to see each other outside of band practice. It had worked for them so far.

"The one about Hidan wanting out due to a newfound religious conviction?"

"Yeah. Scrap the song I sent with it," he moved on, wanting to get this said before he forgot about it, and to get it over with quickly.

"I thought it was the final version."

"Well, I changed my mind," Sasuke rambled, "It's… outdated. No. I…" He took a deep breath. He shouldn't sound so upset, not to Itachi. "It turns out I plagiarized the chorus." He was man enough to admit his mistakes, let no one tell you otherwise.

"I see," Itachi said plainly. Sasuke was glad he hadn't asked for specifics.

He had to admit Gaara would have made a decent 'emo poet' at twelve (and despite the tone he kept hearing the term being used in, that was a recognition –it was a legitimate genre, damnit! ) …unless he had quoted the lines from somewhere himself, of course. He did like that one American (or was it Arabian? Arabesque?) writer he said he'd discovered through having the same birthday, and goth, emo –it wasn't that big a difference, was it? He would have most likely let Sasuke use the lyrics the way they were if it was all original, but the words didn't feel right anymore. Perhaps they were outdated.

"Sasuke, I've been meaning to–"

"He doesn't know I used–"

Both of them shut up at the same time, like pedestrians almost walking into each other and waiting to see which way the other was going to dodge to avoid repeating the situation ad infinitum. Sasuke exhaled audibly, to signal he was going to speak. "You first."

Itachi waited a beat. Then, he dropped another bomb like a good little terrorist: "It's just… I don't think I ever thanked you for coming to look for me…" Sasuke suddenly realized he wasn't the only one with a brother he didn't know how to talk to. "…I had my own stupid pride, from what father used to say about you."

"That you were the better son, you mean," Sasuke said numbly to confirm what he thought was obvious.

"It took me until quite recently to realize that's what he told you," Itachi continued with a strain in his voice that shouldn't be there.

Sasuke felt he was going to be sick. None of this should be there.

First Gaara was crying, and then Sasuke was giving him what had started out as a somewhat acceptable air-hug and quickly gotten out of hand into something that could be described as an embrace...

(And he might have rubbed his back, too, and even whispered something comforting!)

And now Itachi –Itachi Uchiha was supposed to be cool as a cucumber and always know what he was doing, for fuck's sake! Everything he did was part of an elaborate scheme! This was messing with his whole concept of reality!

"When I was alone with him, all he could talk about was what a better son you were."

Sasuke couldn't breathe, let alone provide a comment.

"I think… I think it was his way of trying to toughen us up. Or, grandpa's way. He was trying to be the better son-in-law himself, I'm sure."

Sasuke sniffed his nostrils that were feeling drippy, and he found water was running down his cheeks. Now was he crying? He didn't remember at which point he had wandered from the dry safety of the covered bench to the rainstorm or how he could not have noticed, and he didn't know whether it was all rainwater or if there were tears in the mix. It should have been the perfect alibi, but it only managed to terrify him.

"Sasuke? Are you there?"

He took a big, gurgling, sniveling inhale.

"OH MY GOD, I DON'T KNOW IF I'M CRYING, I'VE FORGOTTEN HOW IT FEEEEEEELS!!" he heard come out of his mouth in a waily mockery of his voice. Alright, that clarified that. He was crying.

Itachi said nothing, and if he had been there with him, Sasuke could imagine he might have stared helplessly –maybe awkwardly patted his shoulder– not sure what to do with a snotty, shivering Eternal Rival. They had never really known what to do with each other in the first place; their inebriated fight years ago had to be their most frank expression of emotion since they were toddlers and bawling was okay when you fell and cut your knee.

"Foolish big brother," Sasuke sobbed, dignity completely irrelevant, "You're supposed to hate me!"

"I'm sorry, Sasuke."

"Well, I hated you!"

"That's what big brothers are for."

Sasuke blew his nose on his gown hem, soaked from the rain already, and hiccupped. He had been right, this made a terrible mess. How Gaara managed to quietly blink out a few clean tears and look like letting him shed any more would equate kicking a wounded puppy was beyond him. He couldn't see himself right now, but knew it was not a sight he would delight in wrapping his arms around. Yet he kind of wished someone would anyway.

"Are uncle and your friends still there?" Itachi asked.

"Yeah, I think. I told the guys to go home at least," he said, meaning his bandmates. It had gotten on his nerves how everyone was waiting up with him like he was dying or something. It was making a scene at the hospital to have that many guests, too.

"I shouldn't have told you this on the phone."

Sasuke was certain it was the only way he had been able to get it said, though.

"I'm gonna kill you tomorrow," he said with a feeble cough. Itachi made an agreeing grunt. "Grandpa, too," he added as an afterthought, liking that channel for his upcoming vengeance already. Someone had to pay for them growing up so distant, and Big Bad Boss Madara finally felt like the correct target.

Sasuke bent his head back in a shaky sigh at things beginning to fall into place… He wasn't sure what would really happen in the afternoon, but this was a turning point in one direction or the other. Talk about redemption in the rain.

But wait a minute –where was the water that was supposed to be washing away his anguish?

He opened his eyes to dotted canvas stretched between strands of metal.

"Uh, gotta to go," he said to the phone and attempted to quickly wipe off some of the goo on his face as he noticed who was holding the umbrella over him. "Later."

"Hn."

Sasuke repeated the ambiguous sound in a sort of wordless goodbye. He waited a few seconds, noticing Itachi was doing the same, until he finally concluded neither was going to say anything more and this wasn't a game of chicken to see which one would hang up first.

Initially he wasn't sure what to do besides hoping he didn't look too horrible, but maybe it was a good thing if he did. They were already sharing an umbrella, so maybe this was some attempt to flirt with him. Then he remembered he did indeed have a line ready for Karin.

"Sorry." He gestured at nothing in particular about her, realizing he didn't know exactly which part he should. "About your... How bad is it?"

She glanced at the dressing peeking out from under her right sleeve. "Just a bandaid. Don't worry about it."

He had to admit himself he had. The information was a relief even though he knew she played left-handed.

"It won't happen again," he said firmly, as much to himself as her.

Karin nodded and handed him a long desired tissue, letting him wipe his face into presentable condition before they went back inside. He couldn't think of anything else to say, and he found himself a little frustrated by that. She offered him no aid in breaking the silence, for once.

He supposed he just might, possibly, deserve that.

They found the chairs in the hallway outside his room occupied by sleeping friends and family. Uncle Obito was there like he had imagined, as were Juugo and Suigetsu, and even Sai, whose camera was in Ino's lap. Sakura was on the other side of the hallway with Lee's arm around her shoulders and some traces of wiped off makeup trails on her cheeks. The man and woman snoring next to them surprised him the most, when he recognized them from… well, it had to be the funeral where he had seen them last. It made sense, though, as he realized he would probably find in his room at least as much as he had left there.

Kakashi came around the corner from the opposite direction, with a cardboard cup that emitted the metallic stench of instant coffee. Since he was awake, Sasuke asked him if he would see to Karin and whoever else wanted to sleep the rest of the night in their own bed getting home. He wished her good night, and caught himself before he forgot to say an uneasy thanks.

She accepted it, which was way too alleviating to be like him. But what was like him anymore?

It wasn't as scary as he had thought not to know that.

In the room he threw off the soaked clothes and opted to sleep in his thankfully still dry underpants. The company he had was too occupied to care about his level of decency under the covers.

He was careful not to bump into the head of red hair pillowed on thin arms on the bed, as he crawled under the disposable, papery sheet. His bothersome visitor's sleep appeared much more peaceful than when Sasuke had untangled those arms from himself to go wander in the rain, and it looked like tucking in was taken care of as well. Naruto had brought another chair next to him and was half holding Gaara, and the jacket Sasuke knew belonged to the redhead but hadn't been on him earlier that night was spread over his shoulders. They were both going to have a sore neck and back when they woke up, but that was their choice.

He decided he was going to sleep, or pretend to do so, for as long as the hospital staff would let him, hoping they would be gone by the time he had to get up.

There was only so much happy ending an Uchiha could take in one go.

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Itachi reads Batman comics, just so you know, so he knows who Harley Quinn and The Joker are. ^^

Eating crow is a real expression in the English language, lol. I'm surprised I haven't run into other mentions of that in relation to the scene you know I'm talking about, because it's even quite fitting. Look it up.

Gaara also does have the same birthday as Edgar Allan Poe.

Tbc; this is not the last chapter. It's the second to last. Sorry it took me this long to continue the fic! ^^;