Chapter 2

Kankuro ended up hooking his father's arm over his shoulders to help his father up the stairs. Yondaime was getting progressively less coordinated. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, his father was breathing heavily and clinging to him. Kankuro had the horrifying thought that this would be the perfect fate-screws-you-over moment for Gaara to come down from the roof and find them.

It didn't happen.

The house was eerily silent and normal while Kankuro walked down the hallway to his father's bedroom, supporting his father's weight the entire way. It was the same bedroom his father had since Kankuro was little. As Kankuro opened the door and helped his father into the room, flicking the lights on, it occurred to him that this was a reversal of all the times his father had carried him into this room to save him from his nightmares.

To Kankuro, Yondaime would always be that man: the father who held him as a child, the pale and sleep-deprived man who had stayed up all night to keep him company while he cried over a nightmare he couldn't remember. The man who'd let him eat a breakfast of rice and eggs in bed, snuggled up under big-people covers, safe by his father's side. The man who had taken him to work several times when he'd been too anxious to stay at home with the servant staff. And their father had done the same for Temari. At one point in the Kazekage office, there was a corner with a small table devoted to Yondaime's children, complete with toys from home, scrolls, and ink, so they could imitate their father's job. Kankuro had spent a lot of days that would otherwise have been lonely and uncomfortable writing fake reports for his father to read and stacking them on top of his father's real work, naively demanding attention.

Looking back on it, he was amazed that he'd gotten what he asked for. His father had always read his 'report' with the same solemn attention he gave real reports. After he finished reading it, his father would nod, say something like, 'Thank you for telling me. I'll get right on it, Captain Kankuro'.

And he would. Even if Kankuro had written something as silly as 'Before we go home I want ice cream', they'd negotiate about it and work something out. For instance, if their father didn't want to buy ice cream from a vendor, they'd stop by the market and pick up a carton of ice cream for the house, instead. Furthermore, Yondaime saved those childish reports somewhere. Kankuro remembered coming across a whole box of them last year in his father's downstairs study.

Of course, when Kankuro turned eight, he'd had to go to school instead of hanging around Yondaime's office. The number of times he visited dropped to when he had days off from school for the holidays. Then, after he'd graduated, nothing. He was too old, too tall and strong and mature, to sit at a tiny table composing distracting things for his father to read. And by that time, he understood that his father had too much work to do already.

Kankuro shook himself out of his recollection and helped his father cross the room. Yondaime stumbled against him. "Sorry," Kankuro whispered.

Yondaime shook his head. "Don't be…don't be sorry. Please don't be sorry."

Kankuro wondered if his father had understood he was talking about making his father stumble. Probably not. He reached the large four poster bed and folded the covers down, exposing crisp white sheets underneath the dark red blanket. Then he patted the exposed space on the bed. "Come on, Dad, time to go to bed."

Yondaime didn't look like he knew what to do.

Kankuro gently turned him and guided him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

"I wanted to be better than this," Yondaime said. "I'd hoped…" He breathed out, his breath rich with the fragrance of plums. "I wanted to be a better father."

Kankuro blinked. A better father than who? Then he slid the pieces together. "No!" he protested. "No, Dad, you are nothing like him. You're way better than your father was to you."

Yondaime's breath hitched, and he blinked away tears. "I want to believe you. But I…" His gaze drifted to the framed portrait of Karura on his nightstand.

Kankuro glanced over and immediately laid the framed picture flat on its face, hiding Karura from view. Sorry, Mom. Just for tonight. You're not doing any good right now.

"Karura does not think that you are anything like your dad. She despised your dad. She could never despise you," Kankuro said firmly, hoping that using his mother's name would drive home what he was saying a little more in his father's inebriated state.

Yondaime sat and cried for a few moments. When he realized he was crying, he hid his face in his hands, sniffling and whimpering.

Kankuro hated that sound. It felt like someone was trying to grind his heart under their heel. He sat down beside his father and held him, wrapping his arms around his father's shoulders. "Hey…stop that. You don't have to hide from me."

Yondaime lowered his hands and leaned his head against Kankuro's shoulder, tears dripping silently. Long minutes passed in silence. Then he said in a tiny voice, "I'm sorry."

Kankuro reached out and opened the top drawer of the night stand, hoping his father left tissues in there. Yep, there's the tissues. A package of fluffy white tissues, already opened. Kankuro shifted, leaning forward, and grabbed the open pack of tissues.

His fingers brushed against the smooth surface of a plastic bottle, and he heard it tip over when he pulled out the tissues. He looked in time to see a gleam of peach pink. "Sorry!" He leapt to his feet. "I'll leave everything like I left it." His first thought was that he would be mortified if his father had left the bottle of whatever it was open – hand lotion? – and Kankuro had just spilled it all over the drawer.

He handed his father the tissues without looking and straightened up the contents of his father's drawer. There were two bottles of nail polish, one light pink and the other clear, a slim bottle of mascara, a tube of lipstick, a small jar of ointment for injuries…and chap stick, two opaque foil-sealed squares, and the bottle of pink stuff that Kankuro had knocked over. Fortunately, it was closed. But in making sure all the bottles and things were right side up, Kankuro had the chance to read the label on the plastic bottle he'd knocked over: '2 in 1 massage oil and lubrication'. And below that, 'Strawberry'.

Kankuro flushed. Okay, he knew his father was an adult and everything, but still. He cringed and looked to his dad.

Yondaime sat on the edge of the bed, silently and carefully blowing his nose. His head was down, and he seemed oblivious to Kankuro's discoveries.

Kankuro awkwardly sat down, leaving the drawer open. "Are…you feeling better, Tousan?"

Yondaime nodded and sniffled, then blew his nose gently. "Thank you, Kankuro. I know this has been hard on you. Always having to…to…make up for me…" He started crying again and wiped his eyes, trembling faintly.

"No, no, it's okay," Kankuro protested. "I'm glad you let me help you out with stuff. We all need to help each other. We're a family."

He tried to change the conversation to something lighter. "Heh, so, you weren't joking when you told Temari to confine her beauty supplies to her bathroom. I see you've confiscated like, four things. When did you talk to her about it? Last week? I thought she'd be a little more careful after you threatened to take things away."

Yondaime slowly crumpled up his tissue and raised his head. He looked at Kankuro with a wary expression.

Kankuro was puzzled. "Dad?"

Yondaime rose unsteadily and looked inside his open nightstand drawer. He absently discarded his tissues in the small trash bin between the night stand and his bed. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Oh…"

"Dad?" Kankuro prompted again, confused and worried. He stood up as well, steadying his father's swaying. "Do you need to throw up or something? One of my friends says that when you drink too much, you throw up sometimes. That's gross, but, um, I don't mind or anything. Do you need my help to walk to the bathroom?"

"No…" His father shook his head, his voice thick.

Kankuro wrapped his arms around his father and sat down with him on the edge of the bed again. "Hey, look, you don't have to stand anymore. You should lie down."

His father bowed his head. "You're still touching me, even after everything –"

"Of course I am," Kankuro said. "You're my father. I love you."

"Love you."

Kankuro took that as permission to put his father to bed. He had never put someone to bed before, much less an adult man. He pulled the covers down more and climbed onto the center of the bed on his knees, pulling his father into bed. That seemed easier than standing beside and pushing. Pulling was much easier. He slid his father into place, positioning his father on his back and helping tuck his father's legs under the covers. His feet clumsily caught on the blanket.

Then Kankuro pulled the covers up over the both of them and resolved to sneak out the other side of the bed, leaving his father resting peacefully.

His father reached out with more strength than Kankuro had given him credit for and grabbed a handful of black t-shirt.

Kankuro paused, caught. "Dad?"

"Son, I –" Yondaime started crying again.

Kankuro couldn't leave now. He wanted to leave when his father was calmer. He let out a breath and flopped down on his side, wrapping an arm around his father in an awkward lying down hug.

Yondaime wrapped his arms around Kankuro and clung. "Please don't leave me, I can't sleep, not knowing – what I've done – " He squeezed his eyes shut. "All the children –"

Kankuro divined immediately that his father was back to worrying about the declaration of war. He hugged his father back tightly. "You're a good man. A good person. You didn't want anything like this to happen. It's not your fault, Dad."

"Karura…"

"Loves you," Kankuro finished. He wished they weren't talking in circles, but it was hardly surprising when his father was drunk.

"Shouldn't you be going to bed?" Yondaime asked in a tiny voice, suddenly sounding more like the father Kankuro was used to, in spite of the timid tone of voice.

Kankuro assessed his options. "Nah. I'm crashing here tonight." That way I can keep an eye on you. I don't want you trying to get out of bed or doing anything else stupid while you're like this. If I stay, I can make sure you sleep. That was the whole point of coming to get you at work in the first place. Making sure you're taking care of yourself.

Yondaime fell silent. Kankuro wondered what his father was thinking.

"Could you turn out the lights?" his father asked quietly, looking hopeful.

Kankuro suppressed a laugh. "Yeah." He climbed out of bed, turning on the lamp on the nightstand, and walked across to the door. He flicked the light switch off and walked back to his father's bed by the light of the lamp.

"You can leave that one on," his father said. He sounded calmer.

Maybe he wants company, Kankuro thought. Like I used to need it when I had night terrors about Mom. He knew he had them only because his father had told him what they had been about when he was a little kid.

"Okay," Kankuro said simply.

He slipped back under the covers and scooted over until he was snuggling up against his dad. I hope this helps you. I don't want you to be sad; or stay up all night thinking everything that happens is your fault. He rested on his side, his arms around his father.

His father slipped strong, thin arms around Kankuro's waist and clung on. "I want you to know…I love you. I always did. I always loved you…"

"I know," Kankuro said softly. He'd heard downstairs, but he didn't mind hearing it again. He'd be a whole lot happier if his dad said these things every day. "I love you, too, Dad. You're the only Dad I've got. So don't mess things up trying to take yourself out of the picture. 'Cause I need you."

His father was silent. Then, in a low voice Kankuro almost didn't catch, "Need you too…Kankuro."

Kankuro shifted, getting comfortable. He rested his head against his father's shoulder and closed his eyes. Like when I was little. His father still smelled the same. He figured that meant his father was still using the same soap, the same shampoo, the same cologne. It was kind of funny, how his father never changed things like that. Most people's tastes changed over time, or they grew bored of the same old thing.

But here his father was, the same as over.

Kankuro whispered, "I'm here. You're here. So it's okay." He was the one that had changed, had grown up, grown almost as tall as his father, strong enough to carry him. If one of them had to change, Kankuro was glad it was him. He never wanted his father to change.

His father's breathing evened out, and Kankuro realized he had successfully soothed his father to sleep.

That was a powerful feeling.

He realized it was more than adulthood, more than responsibility. More than repaying a debt, more than equality – though he'd surely achieved that now, now that he'd found his father drinking downstairs and carried his father off to bed. No, what he felt was…

Kankuro pinpointed it: Love. Not the familial kind.

Now that he'd realized that, Kankuro wondered what to do. He couldn't leave his father here. That would be sheer cruelty after taking all the time and effort to get his father to go to sleep. And his father would take it all the wrong way in this state of mind. And he didn't want to leave. He didn't think that his feelings posed a threat.

Well, I sure can't tell him. That's right out. Never mind that he's my dad, and if I had a really bad problem like this, I would tell him. There was no way Kankuro was going to hit his father with something this stressful and weird to solve right after his father had a breakdown because the Council declared war. Uh-uh. No way in hell.

Kankuro looked at his father's sleeping face, illuminated by the glow of the lamp on the nightstand. I'll just…keep it to myself for a while. Maybe until after the Chunin Exam. Yeah, that's it. If I still feel the same way, then I'll tell him.

That line of thinking neatly avoided the realization downstairs that there might not be any Chunin Exam for him, or any promotion. He was comfortably sinking into denial. No, everyone's going to be okay. Something will happen, and somehow, war won't happen, and I'll get to graduate to chunin, just like Gaara and Temari will, and we'll all be alright. There's not going to be any war. Something will happen.

Soothing himself with those reassurances, Kankuro fell asleep alongside his father.