Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Special Thanks: goes out to rao hyuga 18, PolkadottedAngels, DarkAnonymous324, and Callisto aneX for all your reviews, and for sticking with me through the somewhat rocky update schedule I've had lately! You all - as well as those who have added this story to their alert and favorite lists - are some of the most awesome readers in the world!

Author's Note: ...A month after my last update, I humbly come to you with the next. Again, so sorry it's taken so long, but February is kind of a notoriously bad month for my family. If something is going to go wrong, it will happen in this month. So - I guess I'm saying hopefully things will pick up again from here. But, meanwhile, thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

*~Chapter XVIII~*

~Colorful~

To Itachi's intense relief the stiff, careful courtesy between his mother and his fiancée had eased by breakfast to a more natural level. Since it was the day of their first portrait sitting, he went to his quarters after the meal to change into his most formal, black silk, five kamon kimono - the one he'd wear for his wedding - while Mikoto went with Temari to her rooms to help her dress. Unsurprised when he returned to the main house to find the women not yet downstairs, he started on a slow circuit of the entry hall, idly perusing the generations of portraits hanging there more as a way to kill time than from any real interest since he'd been familiar with them since his childhood. But as he moved from one to the next to the next, a subtly unsettling pattern he'd never noticed before began to form. The formally clad, sober-visaged men, while obviously related, were just as clearly different people; whereas all the women- The women- He suddenly frowned.

The women all looked the same. Portrait to portrait, swathed in the multiple layers of the Uchiha shiromuku,with the tsunokakushi covering their hair and their faces concealed by opaque white makeup, their brides appeared virtually interchangeable. He halted in front of his parents' portrait. The painted Fugaku, though younger, still looked very much like the living original. But he saw nothing of his beautiful, vivacious mother in the woman standing next to him: Only another white-robed and -crowned, white-faced doll.

Not Temari, though, he thought, only vaguely wondering what her own wedding regalia would look like compared with the Uchiha's. Not that it'll matter anyway. Sasuke will be the next head of the clan. His and Hinata's portrait will hang there, not Temari's and mine. . .

"Itachi!" Mikoto's voice called down from the top of the staircase. "Are you down there?"

Shaking off this melancholy turn of thought, "Yes, Mother," he called back as he turned to face the staircase.

"Good! I want you to close your eyes, and not open them until I say you may! Are they closed?"

"Yes, Mother." Suiting actions to words, he smiled a little at the girlish excitement and enthusiasm shining through Mikoto's tone. Sometimes she seemed to him to be not that much older than Sasuke. He heard light footfalls coming down the stairs, nearly hidden by the distinctive whispering rustle of heavy silk, and his heart started beating a little faster despite himself. What would his Temari look like?

"Open your eyes now, my dearest!" his mother all but sang. Nearly holding his breath with anticipation, Itachi obeyed - and immediately went lightheaded with shock. Only the turquoise eyes regarding him warily from the white face confronting him were still his betrothed's; otherwise it was as though one of his foremothers had left her portrait to stand before him. As he fought with every ounce of self-control he possessed to prevent the revulsion he felt from either overwhelming him or showing itself in his expression, Mikoto continued happily, "Isn't Temari every bit as beautiful as I told you she would be in the Uchiha kimono and headdress?"

Rebellion flared through Itachi's heart and soul, fierce as flame; he was not going to let this happen! Somehow managing to keep that concealed as well, he put an arm around his mother's shoulders and said, "Temari is always beautiful. Just as you are, Mother." He smiled warmly at the two women, while rapidly turning over strategies in his mind. "As I waited for you to come down I noticed how dull all the backgrounds are in the older portraits. That made me think: What if we have ours done in the garden, next to the new Desert Rose trees? Granted, they aren't blooming right now, but it shouldn't be any problem for the artist to come back when they are and add in the blossoms later. I know it's not exactly traditional, but-"

"Tradition isn't everything, you know!" Mikoto stretched up on tiptoe to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "That's a wonderful idea, Itachi, and so sweet! Don't you think so, too, Temari?"

"Yes, it is," Temari agreed, while never taking her eyes from his.

"The only thing is," Itachi allowed a wistfully apologetic note to color his voice he went on, "I'm already sweltering miserably in these clothes. And it must be so much worse for you, Temari, since you're not accustomed to the humidity. I hesitate to ask this, but- Would either of you divinely lovely ladies be offended if I suggested we change into something a little less likely to cause a heatstroke for one of us? Temari, did you bring that elegant purple gown you wore to Akimichi's?"

Even as a flicker of uncertainty crossed Mikoto's face, Temari replied, "As a matter of fact, yes, I did." She hesitated for a moment, then added softly, "Mostly because I remember what a wonderful evening we had."

Does she really mean what she said? he wondered. Or is she only playing along because she knows what I'm doing? Although he tried Itachi could get no sense of what Temari thought or felt; the opaque white makeup covering her face from hairline to chin, except for the small, vividly red bow of her mouth, might as well have been a mask. But regardless of her motivation, she'd evidently said precisely the right thing. Mikoto only wavered for a brief moment before sighing and giving in.

"You are an unprincipled, conniving rogue, my son," she said severely, promptly spoiling the effect by affectionately patting his cheek. "But of course I've known that ever since you finagled your father and me into sending you - and your brother, too - to Konoha Academy rather than being privately tutored here at home. Now scoot, hurry and change while I help Temari do the same. We don't have very much time before the artist is supposed to arrive."

Grinning a little, Itachi bent to brush a swift kiss on his mother's forehead. As she turned to follow his mother back up the stairs, Temari gave him one brief, unreadable glance. He tried to analyze it while he strode swiftly across the courtyard to his quarters, shrugging out of his haori and tossing it aside as soon as he slid open the door. Functioning on autopilot he stripped off the remaining four pieces of the formal kimono, his mind still fully occupied with what had just happened. Why? Why did Temari come down wearing the Uchiha kimono and headdress? Not to mention that horrible white makeup! He raked his fingers through his hair to loosen it from its scalp-tugging traditional topknot and quickly confined it again in its usual ponytail. Did Mother go to her after we parted on the staircase? I'm sure she would have wanted to apologize to Temari for upsetting her. A reluctant chuckle escaped him as he pulled on black trousers, hesitating for half a breath before opting for a white silk shirt with loose, flowing sleeves rather than the black one he originally considered. Mother's a fine one to call me an unprincipled rogue! Yes, she must have done, and somehow at the same time coaxed Temari into wearing that getup for the portrait since she won't be wearing it for the wedding. Slipping on a long black vest with a small Uchiha crest embroidered in red and white on each shoulder below the collarbones, he freed his hair with a final flick of the wrist, then ran a rapid eye over his reflection. Ah, well, no harm done.

Recrossing the courtyard Itachi entered the house through a side door. As he approached the staircase again he heard footsteps pattering closer and closer along the main hall leading to the front of the house. Turning his head that way he saw one of the household staff, a middle-aged woman named Yuka, who halted and bobbed a quick bow as soon as she saw him.

"Lord Itachi," she said, "the artist is here."

"Thank you." Itachi glanced toward the head of the stairs. "Please notify my mother of his arrival, and tell her we will meet her and Lady Temari in the garden. He is in the receiving room just off the main entrance, yes?" Dismissing her with an inclination of his head when she nodded, he cast another quick look upwards, hoping to get a glimpse, be it ever so brief, of his fiancée. Stop acting like a teenager with his first crush, he chided himself as he walked to greet the artist his mother had engaged. You'll see her very soon.

Sliding open the receiving room's door, Itachi stepped inside. Someone was standing in front of the east-facing window. Or at least he assumed it was a person. Silhouetted against the glare of early morning light he might have been no more than a life-sized black paper cut-out. Then the person turned and took on normal dimensions.

The man facing him looked as though he couldn't be much, if any, older than Sasuke. From the high neck of his top to the cuffs of his long pants, the artist wore stark unrelieved black, with eyes and hair equally as dark: a dramatic, jolting contrast to his bone-pale skin. Itachi stifled a whimsical urge to ask the man if he'd spent his entire life in the shadows, because it certainly seemed like he hadn't seen a ray of sun in his entire life.

"Welcome. I am Uchiha Itachi," Itachi said, offering a quick bow of welcome. "Thank you for honoring us with your talent."

Bowing in return the artist smiled, an oddly artificial expression lacking any real emotion. "It is you who honor me, Lord Itachi," he replied. "I am Sai. Where should I set up?"

Stepping back, Itachi motioned for the artist to accompany him. "Lady Temari will be along momentarily," he said, thinking at the same time, I hope. He darted a quick glance leading toward the interior of the house, still empty of any presence - female or otherwise - and then turned toward the door. "If you'll please come with me to the garden."

Sai blinked once, a gleam of emotion - excitement perhaps? or annoyance, or simply resignation? - shimmering through his ink-dark eyes too quickly to be identified; but said calmly as he gathered up his pack of supplies, easel and canvas, "Of course, my lord." Itachi led the way out the door, across another courtyard, and through the arched trellis doorway into the garden. A few quick turns brought them to the newly transplanted rose trees, thickly green with fresh life. "I had these trees planted for Lady Temari because of their name, Desert Rose," he explained. "I thought it would be appropriate to have our portrait painted here. Even though they're not in bloom now, would it be possible for you to fill that part in, later...?" He let the question trail off.

"I have seen them before," Sai said, already at work setting up his easel, paints, and canvas. "The Yamanaka commissioned me to paint a poster for their shop advertising the new rose. I have all my preliminary sketches still, so I will not have to wait to add blossoms." He glanced up with another strangely stiff smile that Itachi thought might have been meant to be reassuring. "I'll have no trouble at all roughing them in during our early sittings." Lapsing into silence he began pacing slowly in a narrow arc, studying the area with calculating eyes.

Itachi turned to look back the way they'd come, wishing Mikoto and Temari would hurry up and arrive. A scraping sound pulled his attention back to the artist, who was in the process of moving a contemplation seat - a short, slightly backward-tipped wooden bench with an attached footrest - from its original location to a place between the two rose trees. Well, evidently we won't have to spend hours standing in one place, he thought with a mental shrug as he went back to watching for the ladies. And within a couple of minutes his vigilance was rewarded as they came into view around a bend in the path. His lips curved in a warm smile as his eyes drank in the vision of his sand princess. She didn't return his smile, though, her expression remaining as enigmatic without the white makeup as with it.

After introducing Sai to Temari, Mikoto and the artist went off to one side, the latter gesturing fluidly as he spoke in a low voice. Itachi stole a sideways glance at Temari, gently fanning herself while gazing at different features of the garden around them; anywhere, seemingly, except at him. Her cheeks glowed with a rosy tint under their tan, whether from scrubbing or emotion, he couldn't tell. Mikoto and Sai exchanged bows, then his mother came to lay a hand briefly against the side his and Temari's faces.

"I will see you later, my dear ones," she said, a mischievous dimple peeking around the corner of a sweet smile. She left the garden. Itachi gazed after her, his brows drawn together ever so slightly in a faint frown. Now why, he wondered, did Mother look like that?

"Lord Itachi, Lady Temari." Once Sai had their attention he gestured to the bench. "Please come sit." When Itachi held back to allow Temari to take her seat first, the artist shook his head. "You first, my lord. After I finish positioning you, I will position Lady Temari, then make any necessary adjustments to your poses. And it will help greatly if at the following sittings you each remember your poses."

Awkward as it made him feel, Itachi submitted to the artist's directions and occasional light touch. After what seemed like a very long time but probably wasn't, Sai turned his head toward Temari and said, "Now, my lady, please come and take your place on Lord Itachi's lap so I can pose you."

On my- What? Where? Itachi's eyes instantly snapped over to lock onto Temari, who appeared frozen in shock. Without willing it, his muscles tensed to launch him onto his feet, but Sai's outstretched hand prevented him.

"Please do not move, Lord Itachi," he said, pleasantly yet with an underlying note of command. Apparently oblivious to the reactions he'd caused, he kept his dark eyes fixed on Temari's face and his lips curved in a patently fake smile. The combination proved to be oddly compelling; moving as though sleepwalking, Temari took the few steps needful to bring her to the bench. She stiffly, gingerly, seated herself on Itachi's lap. "Thank you," Sai said. "Now put your arm around his neck, milady - like so," he mimed what he wanted to see, "while your other hand holds your fan just so. Now, my lord, place your left arm around her waist, just here, while resting your right hand on top of her left." He stepped back to study the effect of his instructions, then shook his head. "Try slipping your hand under hers, my lord, as though you are also holding the fan- Yes, I like that much better. Now, Lady Temari, if you will tilt your head sideways and rest it against Lord Itachi's- Hmmm. Yes. Perfect." He took up his place at his easel, adding almost as an afterthought, "For this sitting you may converse with each other. Otherwise, do not move." He set to work.

Far from taking advantage of this permission, silence settled over them, wrapping them in separate shrouds. Itachi tried to keep very, very still as he fought to keep from turning his eyes that oh-so-slight degree to the left in order to check the expression on Temari's face. The slight yet solid reality of her on his lap, in his arms, made his pulse rate soar. Could she feel his heart pounding within the confines of his chest? His palms and fingers, tingling with the warmth of her body through the thin silk of her kimono, ached to stroke her with gentle caresses. Did her skin prickle at all in response to the heat building in his hands? And as for the scent of her-! The jasmine perfume she wore intoxicated him to the point of nearly driving him to insanity. If only he could nuzzle his face against her neck and breathe deeply; brush his lips along the slender, graceful column of her throat; trace the line of her jaw with kisses until he could possess her mouth with his own- Itachi's ears began to buzz. His vision greyed around the edges even as the colors toward the center grew abnormally bright.

"Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?"

It took several seconds for Temari's faint whisper - let alone the sense of her words - to register with Itachi. Wishing he could shake his head to clear it, he carefully whispered back, "Leave what alone? What do you mean?"

Her bosom rose slightly and fell again as she released a frustrated sigh, prompting him to close his eyes for a moment. "I went to Lady Mikoto late yesterday evening and offered to wear the full Uchiha wedding outfit for the portrait. I - am very fond of your mother. I know I did not behave well, and I wanted to make amends to her."

"And that means more to me than I can possibly say." Yielding to temptation, Itachi shifted his gaze to her face and saw something very like hurt behind her princess persona. Choosing his words very carefully he went on, "Beautiful as you were as a traditional Uchiha bride, Temari, I must I confess that I very much prefer for you to look like you."

Temari's eyes went very wide as they cut sharply to the right and met his, their color softening almost imperceptibly from flat turquoise to a gentler shade of teal. At the same time some of the rigidity left her body. "Thank you, Itachi," she whispered, the merest breath. Nor did she make any effort to look away again for the remainder of the sitting.

It came as a bit of a shock when Sai eventually announced that the light had changed too much for him to continue working. "I will return at the same time tomorrow," he said as he tidied away his materials. He picked up the canvas last, making sure to keep it turned away from the portrait's subjects. "Please allow me to remind you to keep your poses fixed in your memories. It will save much time." He bowed and left.

Itachi assisted Temari to stand, then stiffly got to his own feet. He kept a light, steadying hand on the small of her back as she rolled her neck in circle and then stretched. "'Please keep your poses fixed in your memories,'" she mimicked and then groaned. "Like we have any choice. I thought my body was going to lock up in that position!"

Wisely, Itachi said nothing as he eased the kinks in his own muscles. It won't be a problem for me, either, he thought as they slowly started along the path back to the house. Because despite the torment it causes me, having you in my arms like that feels like the most natural thing in the world.

"D-do you really think he checks every d-day to see if you've p-put a white rose over the doorway?" Hinata asked, a wistful note in her voice.

Tenten stepped back to examine her handiwork. "He'd have to, wouldn't he?" she replied pragmatically. "Otherwise how would he know to meet me at the gazebo?" Or that I'd been so ill? But in contrast to her matter-of-fact words, her fingertips lingered softly on the snowy petals of the single half-opened bloom she'd affixed above the outside of the doorframe; this one unmarred by bloodstains.

"I can't help it, Tenten, it's just so-"

She automatically interrupted the other girl before she could finish her sentence. "Don't say romantic, Hina." Things are quite dangerous enough without adding that into the mix, she silently added. Despite having every intention of doing so, she'd never found the nerve or the opportunity yet to tell her friend of the amaryllis and note Neji had left for her the night she'd been so ill - or of the dreadful image that had nearly made her faint.

Hinata sighed. "But it would b-be so wonderful," she said plaintively. "Then, besides being my friend, you would also be my sister. Well, not exactly my s-sister, but as good as, if you f-follow what I mean."

Tenten smiled at her mistress. "Thank you, Hinata. That's a lovely compliment. Now then," she changed the subject, "what would you like to do for the rest of the day?"

"Do you f-feel up to starting to teach me that d-dance you told me about? Or if n-not, there are shuriken and knives to practice throwing."

Tenten laughed outright. "Next thing I know, you're going to want me to teach you how to use a katana," she teased; then felt her mouth drop open slightly when Hinata turned her pale gaze floorward.

"Well, n-now that you m-mention it-" she murmured, letting her voice trail off suggestively. "But the dance first, p-please."

"The dance first," Tenten agreed. "To begin with, we're going to need four fans. Once you have the movements and timing down, we'll build up to actual knives."

As always the heiress continued to surprise Tenten with her natural aptitude for various weaponry. Not only did she quickly pick up on the basic movements of the women's war dance from the village in the Land of Earth; she unconsciously added a natural layer of gracefulness and elegance to it that nearly took Tenten's breath away. With the best, truest, purest practitioners of the martial arts, she remembered Kakashi telling her during one of their long-ago lessons, you'll still be lost in the beauty of their movements before you even notice that you're dead. Amazing as it seemed, shy, delicate Hinata appeared to have the potential to be one of those practitioners.

As night fell, Tenten's nerves began to wind tighter and tighter. But every time she thought of Kakashi possibly catching her during this latest late-night foray, she reminded herself that it had only been a few days since her bout of food poisoning. Surely, even if he were inclined to make a point of looking into the gardens during the wee small hours, he would think it too soon after her illness for her to engage in any midnight rambling.

As she and Hinata sat in darkness, waiting for the time to come for her to leave the suite, Tenten finally decided that maybe, just maybe, she should tell her about the flower, the note, and her terror that Neji had been caught. Even though she deliberately kept her recitation as dry as possible and totally omitted the gory details of her vision, she heard the other girl take in a deep, shivering breath at the end.

"P-please don't think poorly of m-me, Tenten," Hinata's whisper sounded troubled, "b-but if I had known this earlier, I d-don't know if I would have let you p-put up the rose."

Hurt stabbed Tenten's heart. Her head drooped; tears filling her eyes, she turned toward her mistress and made a profound, face to the tatami bow. "Forgive me, my lady," she choked out. "I have failed-"

The next thing she knew, Hinata's arms were wrapped around her shoulders, lifting her from her bow into an embrace. "Oh, Tenten, Tenten, I am s-sorry: I am n-not as b-brave as you. If not f-for you, my cousin, my b-big brother would still be isolated, f-friendless, with no b-bit of hope or j-joy in his life. Thanks t-to you, that is changing. He knows I b-believe in him. He knows he is n-no longer alone. You are the bridge b-between us. And one d-day," Hinata's whisper shook fervently, "with your h-help, I hope to p-prove my uncle t-to have b-been as innocent as his s-son."

With those words echoing at the back of her mind, a short time later Tenten made herself one with the shadows as she slipped through them on her way to the gazebo, using every technique of stealth she'd ever learned from her older brother. She paused just outside the rose-draped entrance and whispered, "Lord Neji?"

A warm, rough hand closed around her wrist and pulled her around the corner into the fragrant, dark interior. "Milady Tenacity." His low voice brushed past her ear on the breath of what might have been a laugh. "You're feeling better. I'm glad."

A shiver tried to build along Tenten's nerves. "Thank you for the flower," she blurted out. "And the note. I kept the flower. Um, how is your hand?"

"All but healed. See?" Neji extended it into an anemic moonbeam sifting through the roses, palm upwards. Cradling it one of hers, she traced a fingertip lightly along lines that would show livid in daylight, then carefully flexed the injured digits.

"I'm so glad it's healing all right," she whispered. Surprising herself with the reluctance she felt, she released his hand and drew hers back; then, for lack of anything else to do with them, clasped them behind her back.

"I'm not complaining," Neji said after an uncomfortable pause, "but I was - surprised to see the white rose so soon." A note of curiosity colored his voice.

"I've been worried about you - about your hand," Tenten said quickly. "And, ah-" Her voice fading she looked toward her feet. "Thank you. For the flower. And the note. It was rice paper, so I ate the note." Her throat tightened as she desperately tried, and mostly failed, to block that terrible picture from reforming in her mind. I'm babbling. He's going to think I'm an idiot.

"Tenten." He took a step closer to her, so near now she thought she could feel her skin tingle from his proximity. Her pulse suddenly seemed to double. "What is troubling you?"

"Troubling me? Nothing, nothing at all!" Again she knew she spoke too fast, but couldn't seem to stop herself, or even make herself look at him. Neji kneeling, the sword flashing, the blood, the blood-!

There was another long, awkward pause. "I see." Neji finally broke it, his voice distant yet unable to suppress completely an underscoring pain. She heard him back up one step, then another. "I frightened you by coming into the room that night. Or was Hinata frightened that I could come and go undetected?"

"No, you're wrong!" Tenten did jerk her head up then, her gaze grabbing and holding his. "For one thing, I never even told Hinata about it until just before I came here! And her first thought was the very same as mine, of the danger you'd put yourself in! It was sweet, it made me feel-" She closed the distance between them without breaking eye contact, and got the feeling he would have backed up more if there had been room. "But the risk you took! Seriously, Neji, when Hinata's father came bursting in the next morning, I thought- I thought-" This time she did not resist the compelling urge to lift her hands and cradle his face. "I- We- Neither of us was frightened of you, Neji, but for you!"

He stood unmoving between her hands, his wide eyes reflecting the failing moonlight in a silvery glimmer. Slowly, hesitantly his hands lifted to fit themselves around her waist; even as he bent his neck to rest his forehead against hers, their eyes remained locked.

"Tenten." Her name, only her name uttered in a whisper, the merest breath of a whisper; but it was enough. With a wonder-filled sense of having found her true home, she smoothed her thumbs in delicate circles across his cheekbones; felt his thumbs deliciously echo the motion on either side of her waist.

However much time passed as they stood like that, Tenten wasn't anywhere near ready to move when Neji sighed softly and said, "You'd better go." Straightening, he very gently put her away from him.

Tenten let her hands drift down to her sides. "I know." She took a slow step back, feeling as though she were fighting gravity's relentless pull. "M'lord, Neji-"

Although she couldn't see his face anymore, she knew he smiled. "I will look for the white rose. Until then, my Lady Tenacity."

The waning moon had all but set as Tenten left the gazebo, feeling as though she were floating. Or glowing. Or maybe both. Only years of discipline enabled her to be as stealthy on the return trip to the house as on her way to meet Neji. She slipped silently around the perimeter of an open area, approaching the wall that would lead her to the enclosure outside Hinata's suite. But to get to the gate, first she had to pass the fountain she and Hina had visited the day Neji cut his hand. Already she could hear the soft, soothingly repetitive music of the water falling back into its basin. Staying close to the vine-covered stone wall, she rounded the corner.

And froze. Time, as well as her heart, seemed to stop. Someone was sitting on the edge of the fountain. Someone whose hair glinted almost white in the last beams from the setting moon.

Kakashi.

*~To Be Continued~*

Author's Ending Notes: A month after my last update, I finally get the new chapter up! Again, I'm so sorry it's taken so long. But February is a notoriously bad month for my family - everything that is going to go wrong in the year happens this month. So hopefully things will look up from here. Also, now that my beta is feeling much better, she and I have been reading through Labyrinth from this point forward and extending, reworking, and rearranging scenes. We want to make sure we bring you the best story we possibly can, so we felt like all this work really needed to be done before we could move on. But now that we've (mostly) gotten all this worked out, we're aiming to get on a more regular updating schedule. Keep your fingers crossed! Thanks again for your patience, amazingly kind and supportive words, and we hope you enjoyed this chapter - it's one of my own personal favorites!