I own nothing! I don't own Naruto or any of its characters! Just the OC's that come with Sarah's previous lifestyle, and even then, they're based off of the people they are in the story. I also don't own the music, but I'll list the songs and artists at the end!

Sarah PoV

I woke up in Otogakure, back in my own bed. I still felt like I was having an out of body experience, but not nearly as badly as before. I wanted Orochimaru – I wanted him to take me there and then. He, Kabuto, and the Sound Five were all missing. My Leaf comrades had left, and I was alone in the room. I vaguely noticed a cluster of flowers on my nightstand – a bouquet of red roses and small light blue forget-me-nots. How ironic considering I'd been forgotten and abandoned almost.

I began undressing, waiting under the covers for Orochimaru to return. I could hear a woman wailing loudly, and I flinched. Screaming soon followed, and silence. Orochimaru walked in, blood on his clothes, and a tired frown on his face. He saw me, and smiled gently.

"I got hot," I told him, and he lifted up the blankets to join me.

"I know," he said gently before kissing my forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Lonely," I said, and he chuckled before I started singing sadly. "When you try your best, but you don't succeed; When you get what you want, but not what you need; When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep; Stuck in reverse! And the tears come streaming down your face; When you lose something you can't replace; When you love someone, but it goes to waste; Could it be worse?"

"Lights will guide you home," Orochimaru sang as he put his hands on my jaw, cupping my face. "And ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you."

"High up above or down below," I sang sadly. "When you're too in love to let it go."

"But, if you never try you'll never know; Just what you're worth," he told me. "Lights will guide you home. And ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you."

We paused for the interlude, and he began making love to me ferociously, but I never felt it in the slightest. All I could feel were the tears streaking down my face as I hugged him tightly. My emotions were a hurricane, and would probably remain so for a while, but hopefully I would regain feeling throughout my body soon instead of this permanent numbness.

"Tears stream down your face," we sang in unison. "When you lose something you cannot replace. Tears stream down your face And I... Tears stream down on your face. I promise you I will learn from my mistakes. Tears stream down your face, And I..."

"Lights will guide you home," Orochimaru sang again, pulling me closer as he stopped to pull me closer to him. "And ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you."

I nestled into the base of his neck, letting my racking sobs overtake me as he kissed my forehead. I wished I could remember him from before, but for the life of me, I couldn't. I didn't know why, but I couldn't – my mind had shut him completely out except for the facts that he'd taught me everything I knew as a ninja and was my husband. He began singing a song that I recognized from Kenny Rogers.

"He works hard To give her all He thinks she wants. Forbidden Scrolls, Her own training grounds. He walks in late To wake her up With a kiss Good night. If he could only Read her mind, She'd say:"

"Buy me a rose," we sang and my eyes flooded with tears, "Call me to work. Open a door for me, What would it hurt? Show me you love me By the look in your eyes. These are the little things I need the most in my life."

"Now the days have grown To years Of feeling All alone," he sang me the story that I could seriously connect with. "She can't help But wonder what She's doing wrong. Lately she'd Try anything To turn his head. Would it make a difference If she'd said:"

"Buy me a rose, Call me to work. Open a door for me, What would it hurt? Show me you love me By the look in your eyes. These are the little things I need The most in my life," we sang together softly.

"And the more that he lives The less that he tries To show her the love That he holds inside. And the more that she gives The more that he sees This is a story Of you And me," he sang gently, and I looked up at him. He glanced over to the bouquet, and I followed his gaze before looking back at him. "So I bought you a rose On the way home from work To open the door To a heart That I hurt. And I hope you notice This look in my eyes. Cause I'm gonna make things right For the rest of your life. And I'm gonna hold you tonight. Do all those Little things For the rest Of your life."

"Orochimaru," I said vaguely, my tears running over. I buried my face in his chest, welcoming the warmth, breathing in his intoxicating scent. "Husband. Lover. You."

Orochi PoV

I stared as Sarah muttered into my chest. She was recognizing me more, I could tell. Little by little, bit by slow bit, but not fast enough. She needed to remember me fully before it was all lost again. I kissed her gently, lulling her to sleep with a genjutsu, pushing chakra against the blocked parts of her brain to try to unlock them. Imagine my surprise when I got inside of her head instead.

I found myself in her past, viewing every horrible thing she'd been through since she was an infant in the hospital. I viewed her struggle to survive through citrobactor and hydrocephalus before she was even three months old. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief when they put the shunt in, and watched as they went in to take her tonsils out.

"Snake!" she laughed, and my head jerked around to face her. She was five now, and a snake was on her lap as her only male older cousin watched in amusement. She was excited and happy, like she was when she had been reading to her small brown dog. That night, she read the small dog another story, and I noticed that her rasping was growing less and less, and the dog was beginning to rasp just a little more.

"And they lived happily ever after," she grinned, looking at the dog. "Did you like that, Baby? Yeah, who's a good girl?"

"Impossible," I whispered. "The dog is taking her illness away. It's taking away the inflammation in her lungs and bronchial tubes."

"Sarah, time for bed," her mother said, and the small child climbed into bed with the dog alongside her. The light was turned out gently and I watched as the memory shifted into one when she was seven years old.

"Again!" she laughed, holding a rod above her hands.

"No!" I yelled out, knowing her sweaty hands would cause her to slip and fall. She fell, just as I knew she would, and landed with her stomach brutally on top of her left radius and ulna. Her arm was broken, I knew, but I looked gently anyways as she was in the medical tent.

"Mommy, it hurts!" she sobbed, and I crouched in front of her in the moving metal rectangle she was seated in. I think her mother called it a van, but another had called it a car, so I wasn't certain.

"You shouldn't have done that, then," Sam said. His hair was cropped very short, and he was fatter now than he was later, which was saying something since he reminded me of Jirobo as an adult. This smaller form of him looked more like a young Akimichi boy with black hair.

"Not exactly, Sam," another piped up, this one in glasses. "She couldn't have known it would do that or she wouldn't have done that."

"Shut up, Joe," Sam said looking out the window as Sarah began crying louder. I wanted to brush the tears off her face, but I knew I could do nothing but watch her memories alongside her.

The memory shifted, and she was skating around in a rink with a cast on her left arm. It was thin, but firm, unlike our casts which were both thick and required it to be in a sling until it healed properly. Her father was nearby, and the rest of her cousins were as well. I noticed she was wearing the skates with two wheels in front and two in back while most others were wearing skates with four wheels in a line.

"Ready, Sarah?" the man asked, and she nodded excitedly. He surged forward, pulling her behind him laughing loudly. I surged forward, suddenly on skates, and wanted to yank back on her left arm. As I clamped down on her cast, my hand became see-through, and I went through her like a phantom.

"Faster, daddy!" she called out, and I screamed at him to stop before he hurt my future wife further. It was his horrible lack of teaching his daughter about sweaty hands that brought about her broken arm.

"Hey, birthday girl!" one of her cousins greeted, and Sarah slipped and fell right on her rear just as the memory shifted.

She was again seated on her rear, just in the principal's office. Ooh, this was interesting – she was a goody-goody back then. I wondered what she did wrong, and noticed she was crying. She held out a slip of paper, and the man looked at her wide eyed. She made up a story – I could tell by her heartbeat she was lying, but that was the only revealing factor – and told him that her homework was completed on the table at home. She worked her butt off that night to produce it the next morning, and her teacher sneered cruelly at her before making a snide remark about her being a brat and getting out of ISS.

I lashed forward, willing the every paper in the classroom to catch fire. Sadly, nothing happened, but Sarah was thinking the exact same thing as me. She'd even gone as far to imagine him on fire. Violent child, now, she was. Her teacher's actions had hardened her greatly, as well as watching Naruto. She headed back after school, and walked a kilometer away from the High school away to her mother's work. They sat down in the back room, and began watching something that I recognized very well – my bout in the Chunin Exams. She gaped, asking them what this was, and they told her and explained what it was.

"Awesome," she murmured, and I smirked as I watched her beginnings to her descent into my lair. I frowned, realizing she was only fourteen now, so this must have been going on for about four years before she finally made it to my world.

This process repeated for a few years, and I watched as she began playing with her female friends outside the Junior High School, laughing and playing with the first people that she honestly still looked back at with fondness. I felt a familiar feeling in my gut when I realized that all of her friends up until now had betrayed her and left her for a different crowd, or moved away against their own will. At the end of the school year, I noticed that she was at home all the time and doing her homework at home now. She was filling out, I realized. Slowly, but she was filling out, and at about the size between an A and a B cup in a bra.

I stared in shock as she fell with what appeared to be a seizure – but, the strange thing was that she wasn't shaking, she'd just lost control of herself for a few minutes. The episodes continued to grow worse until June, but miraculously stopped long enough for her to go to school for her finals.

That first day she went back, however, she was met with a more than warm welcome – it was ferocious. Her teachers were ecstatic that she was back, and her friends that were normally teasing and joking with her were talking like she had almost died. They were normally pushing her away when she wanted a hug, but now they were yanking her into hugs when she didn't even motion that she wanted them. Even those who hated her were smiling that she was back, albeit holding back and letting her have as much fun as she wanted.

I soon realized why they were doing this – two days after the finals ended, she had gone to the hospital to get the shunt fixed. I frowned, knowing that the problem wasn't fully fixed. She still had hydrocephalus from all this time of when she shunt had stopped working. I kept an eye on her for a week and half, yelling at her that she shouldn't go to the girls' camp like she so desperately wanted to. She went to Girls' Camp for a day, much to my chagrin, and was wary of the fluid coming from her first surgery site.

She was soon in the hospital again to get the shunt replaced, and I watched as her mother picked up the phone in the hospital room. I caught the conversation, and my eyes widened in horror. The surgery would require her to be bald, that was something I wouldn't have done without a wig, and it had to be realistic at that. I frowned, and watched as my wife burst into sobs as her mother told her the bad news.

When they trimmed her hair that night, it looked like Hinata's almost from her first Chunin exams, just a little bit longer, and chocolate brown instead of black. The next day, she wasn't in a good mood – who would be if they had fifteen staples and six stitches in their head with two giant globs of glue holding their stomach together? I sighed, and watched as she writhed and lashed her legs out angrily. She laughed randomly, and I looked at the whiteboard she was looking at. Room 1027. 1027, my birthday, she laughed and told her mother, who just stared at her like she was crazy.

"How nice of you to make the connection," I scowled. Even at fourteen, about to be fifteen in two months, she knew my birthday. Heck, she'd known it when she turned fourteen. That was disturbing. She'd known and obsessed over me for four years – no wonder she'd acted like she was unworthy to be looked at or touched by me when I first met her. But then why'd she call me a she, I wondered vaguely.

The next school year came as a shock for all of her friends when they first saw her the next school year. By now, she'd moved up to a C-cup, which shocked them all alongside her now almost-nonexistent hair. I'd have worn a wig if I was her, and she realized this as the other students picked on her for being a lesbian when she was clearly heterosexual. That afternoon, she went sobbing to her mother, saying that the other children had all picked on her, begging for a wig. Her mother cruelly refused, saying that it was only to get long black hair like mine. Sarah had refused dinner that night and went to bed crying her eyes out and completely ignoring her homework.

I watched as she fleshed out more, only in her musical talents instead of her physical form. She was a wonderful singer, and would have remained so if the breathing tubes hadn't messed up her vocal cords. She was now afraid to even talk, let alone sing out a scratchy note. After a few months, she was singing a wonderful soprano again, and working her way back up to singing "Phantom of the Opera" like she'd been the school year before her surgery. Her music was beautiful, I would have to get her to sing for me.

I growled in anger at her sophomore year – boys were now noticing her, and she them. One boy in particular was annoying, to both me and her. She'd been ecstatic when he went missing for two weeks, but had panicked when he got back and went straight to him, hoping he'd changed. She regretted it a month later when he caused her to have a nervous breakdown at the end of lunch and cry for thirty minutes during Geometry – her teacher had let one of her friends sit next to her and murmur to her the whole time, petting her head. One of the boys began whispering about touching her place later in the year to see if she was secretly a man with extremely large breasts. I wanted to kill him, but Sarah hadn't heard him.

When he went through with it, she panicked, and immediately began ignoring everything to do with mathematics and began writing to vent. Typical. She went straight to her history teacher, and had told him of what had happened. He stared at her in shock and led her to the principal's office to tell him everything she had seen, heard, and felt. She'd even handed him the letter she'd written to vent. He knew she was a gentle and extremely non-violent child, and knew that it must have been true by the way her nerves were so tilted on their axis.

The boy didn't show up in class for three days.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, till the boy got back and began glaring at her like she'd done something wrong. Nobody liked a snitch, but sexual harassers were worse than snitches, by far. It was her first time being sexually harassed, and she wasn't used to it, so of course she would go to the authority figures that she knew and trusted. Her history teacher had begun looking at her more fondly, like an uncle would a niece, and she began being more open in his class to repay him. She even brought her grade up and began working her butt of to please him.

At the end of her sophomore year, with a month and a half left, she finally got rid of the boy who had started following her around on day one of school. He'd threatened her, and she had again gone to her history teacher for help. The school police spoke with both of them, and it was determined that they were not to be in the same classroom again for the rest of the school year, possibly their lives. It couldn't be avoided in neutral grounds like the cafeteria, library, or auditorium, but was still avoidable every other time. She immediately ran back to her female friends to apologize for the way she'd been acting, and said that it was to keep him away from them and from getting on their nerves. They'd welcomed her back with open arms, and glared at the boy every time he passed by their table and pined after her openly.

That summer, she'd been forced to move down to Conway. She'd hated every minute she was there, and only stayed in school for the Chinese I class she took. I stared as she immediately became friends with her new teacher, and acted the exact opposite way than when she did with German. It was new, something just for her, and she began teaching her father (who was a very slow and idiotic learner) the different words. I decided randomly to have her teach me to see who was a better learner.

At the end of the school year, she began working full time for her aunt. She took a break only on Sundays, and stopped only in mid-July to go to China for two weeks. I relived it alongside her, relishing the fascinating culture that was surprisingly similar to ours in Otogakure. She'd reluctantly gone home, just barely homesick only because she was out of money, and I laughed as she slacked off for the rest of the summer.

She only went to her senior year for four days before dropping out and quitting. She studied for a month to get her General Education Diploma, or GED as she called it, and took her ACT test. After two stressful weeks of waiting, they got her results: a 670/800 on the GED and a 26/36 on the ACT. Not bad at all considering she bombed both science sections and aced the English ones. She'd even done it without cheating. I would have cheated, or even used her as a testing idea for a henge to see if we could actually cheat in the testing rooms.

She started working a few weeks later, and began working furiously for more college money alongside her father. She'd gone to her second A2F, an Anime Convention, and bought a ring that bore an eerie resemblance to my own Akatsuki one – it wouldn't fit on anything but her thumb, though. I laughed as she stuck it on a chain around her neck instead. She bought her own Onbi, or small sword, even though it wasn't sharp at all.

I grinned in shock as I realized what would help her remember: A2F was coming up again in her world, and I was an Anime character. We could team up since she had a Guren Cosplay in storage! I watched as she began singing a song softly on the way to her old bedroom after I'd left her. I recognized a Kenny Rogers song about abandonment. She'd altered the lyrics, tears flowing down her face.

"This is the house that love built. Memories of you are etched in each wall. Warm tender scenes still haunt my dreams. Thought I just heard your voice in the hall. The mirrors reflect all the heartache I feel. Smiling photographs don't seem real. Nothing's been moved, but everything's changed. Each chair is in place, just my life's rearranged. The wind cries your name through each window and door. Love don't live here, love don't live here anymore," she began walking through the house, looking around her as she sang. As she sang about the mirrors, she stopped in front of the one in her bathroom she shared with her brothers.

"Sarah, stop it!" I heard her brother yell out across the house, but she didn't hear him and kept singing while crying.

"The fire of life still glows a pale blue. The manga is cruel holding pictures of you. Your scent lingers there, in the bed we'd once shared. The last snake I bought has now shed. These rooms are unkind to play tricks on my mind. I can see how you'd live without me. Nothing's been moved, but everything's changed. Each chair is in place, just my life's rearranged. The wind cries your name through each window and door. Love don't live here, love don't live here anymore."

"Nothing's been moved, but everything's changed. Each chair is in place, just my life's rearranged. The wind cries your name through each window and door. Love don't live here, love don't live here anymore," I sang with her the final time, the song describing perfectly of life in Otogakure after she'd left. I changed the final sentence words. "Love won't live here without you."

The memory shifted once more, and she was sitting outside and talking to Jiraiya after I'd "raped" her. He was talking gently, and she was flinching as he put his arm around her. She was honestly acting like she'd been raped. In a way, she had been, but it had been her idea in the first place – she just never knew when it would be put into action.

"If it makes you feel better, I could go kill him," Jiraiya suggested, and Sarah looked up at him sadly.

"But then Konoha would kill my child for being a bastard," she said sadly. "I don't want to punish the baby for what its father did to me."

"At least let me take it off your hands once its born," Jiraiya suggested, and Sarah nodded gently.

"Okay. if he doesn't attack me, then I'll stay with you and leave him in your care when I'm done nursing him," she said quietly. She and I both knew that it would never happen, but she'd said it to placate Jiraiya anyway.

She walked back to her room, tired, and returned to playing Sudoku for fun. Jiraiya smiled gently before taking Naruto-kun on his training trip. I would attack Konoha one month later.

"I wish I could tell you how much I miss you and regret this whole blasted thing," she whispered as tears began flowing silently after returning to Otogakure after the Chunin Exams. "I just want to be your wife and make you happy. I just want you to be proud of me." I gently cradled Sarah in my arms, and was returned to the present.

"I already am proud of you," I told her quietly. "I have always been proud of you. And it is my pride that keeps me from telling you that, to keep driving you forward to make me more proud of you."

Okay, I don't own any of the songs. But, in order, they are:

Fix You by Coldplay 2) Buy Me a Rose by Kenny Rogers 3) Love Don't Live Here Anymore by Kenny Rogers

Okay, I admit, I screwed with the lyrics a tiny bit on the songs, but it needed to be done to suit the situation!