Muttering suffused the background of Iruka's dream. It consisted of the same phrases over and over – the voices were nudging him to wake up and open his eyes – but it was barely intelligible because they were continuously talking over each other. He groaned. He'd had weird dreams before, but this was in a category of it's own.

If his subconscious wanted him to wake up that badly, however, who was he to argue? He peeled open an eye just far enough to see the clock on his bedside table: one in the morning. Another groan escaped his lips; this one motivated by both the early hour and the way his vision swam when he opened his eyes. Everything seemed to have a duplicate that, in some cases, was not as stationary as the original. His throat was parched, his head pounding, all fairly indicative signs that he was well on his way to being sick as a dog.

"Open your eyes," one of the voices insisted.

Had he been able to scrape together enough of his faculties to make a response, he would have pointed out that he had, and it made him feel immensely worse. He was planning on keeping his eyes closed for the time being.

Another chorus of instructions greeted that thought, and Iruka buried his face in the pillow and immediately regretted the motion. The cloth was soaked with sweat as were, now that he was thinking about it, the sheets tangled around his torso and legs.

"Wake up!"

It felt like something slapped his brain. It wasn't the first time – that particular technique was a favorite prank amongst young kids, as it tended to make people sit up and blurt out whatever they'd just been thinking about – but it ceased to work once you'd reached mid-teens and your natural mental defenses were strong enough to keep most people out. Which meant someone had gotten in. Iruka sat bolt upright.

The room tilted to the side and slowly shimmied its way back to a more proper orientation. Iruka retched, trying to keep down the small amount of food he'd had for dinner, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"No, you have to keep them open!" Something solid shoved at his elbow, jostling him.

Against his better judgment, Iruka opened his eyes and looked down. There was a dog in his bed. Not only that, but there was a shadow of a dog that sat back on its haunches and peered up at him right before the original did. Iruka's stomach protested again.

At least it wasn't a completely unfamiliar dog. "Uhei, right?" Iruka hedged. He'd met Kakashi's familiars on a few occasions. He knew the names, but still had trouble attaching them confidently to each dog.

The sleek rust and white dog nodded. "You have to keep your eyes open."

"I'm going to throw up on you if I do that." Iruka shoved his hair out of his face. His hair was almost as drenched in sweat as the sheets, and his skin felt like it was on fire.

"Then you should move to the bathroom," a second voice pointed out, the words echoing strangely. He hadn't noticed it before, but given the soup his mind seemed to have become, it was entirely possible that he'd just missed it. "Because you don't have a choice and this is the only thing that's going to make you feel better."

Iruka looked up from scrubbing his hand over his face. The springs of his bed groaned under the combined weight of Kakashi's familiars, because all eight had found space – behind his knees, over his ankles, and in the space he'd vacated when he sat up – to crowd onto the bed with him. "What the hell...?" Even through the haze, their presence in his apartment set off alarm bells. "Kakashi!"

"Not something we can worry about now," the pug that was draped over his thigh – Pakkun, he was fairly certain – said with the strange, echoing quality. His tone suggested he'd been worrying about it for quite some time now. "You're in trouble." The shadow of Pakkun leapt from the bed and all the dogs seemed to stir and start moving before they actually started moving.

Several years before, Kakashi and Iruka had gotten spectacularly drunk to celebrate the fact that they, and Kakashi's team, had survived the evaluation that allowed Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke to be practicing mages instead of just apprentices. Though neither of them had admitted it out loud, they'd both worried that Naruto was going to level half the city in his determination to pass the first time, and coming out with only one building with structural damage had been a winning situation.

In the false confidence brought on by alcohol, Iruka'd screwed up the courage to ask Kakashi what the Sharingan was like. Not what it did – most people knew that – but what it was like on a daily basis. In light of current developments, it was probably a very good thing he'd asked.

"Shit," Iruka swore loudly and clapped a hand over his left eye.

"No." A head the size of a wrecking ball slammed itself against the small of his back, almost throwing him from the bed.

Iruka swiveled to glare at Bull – there was no mistaking the enormous dog or forgetting his name. "Why not?"

"Can't you feel it?"

At that moment, he felt like death warmed over. His skin was tight and prickling, and his hands itched the way they did when he'd gone far too long without using magic. It was a renewable resource, and it tended to keep building up if you didn't use it. But he'd practically drained himself two days ago by healing Kakashi, and he'd been using minor spells here and there in the intervening time. He shoved aside the fog from what must have been a raging fever and reached for his magic. He was expecting a sprinkler, and what he got was a fire hose.

He snatched his mind away from it before he channeled it into any spell. Between the fever and the sheer enormity of his magic, Iruka wasn't sure he had the focus to keep even a simple spell from getting out of control. Even at his peak, with his magic fully restored, he had less than half the power available to him now.

No wonder he felt like he was burning from the inside out; he was. He drew in a deep breath and forced his left eye, which he had reflexively closed when he'd dropped his hand, open. He knew Kakashi well enough to know that the Sharingan burned magic and lots of it.

Shiba, a gray dog with a shock of dark fur on the top of his head that formed a short mohawk, started to sit up, but paused when Iruka groaned.

"Please don't move. Just give me a minute for everything to get better and then you can move." Even with that request, Iruka stared fixedly at a corner of the ceiling, trying to keep the dogs out of his line of sight so that they didn't have to freeze completely. He felt a couple of heads settle down on his thigh and heard the rhythmic thumping of a wagging tail. "Where's Kakashi?"

"We don't know." Uhei's admittance was met with a chorus of whines from the other dogs. "Something happened last night. I can't really describe it, but it was kind of like the world shifted – like we'd had an earthquake – and when the dust settled, we couldn't feel Kakashi anymore. We could feel you, and you were..."

"Dying." Iruka finished for her. The sheer amount of magic he'd had stuffed into his mind would have burnt out synapses if he hadn't found a way to start bleeding it off. It would have become harder to think, then harder to breathe, and eventually harder to live. "We need to find him."

As dramatic statements go, that one leaned heavily towards the obvious end of the spectrum, but Iruka wasn't thinking about a massive man-hunt across the city where they hoped to get lucky. Under the roster of Konoha mages, he was listed with the specialty of 'TNT,' a much-lambasted abbreviation for 'track and trap.' He didn't usually have hordes of magic to go gallivanting about with, but he was damn good at finding people and keeping them there until the more battle-inclined mages arrived.

"I'll get the spells ready." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and promptly crumpled almost all the way to the floor. He hung a few inches above it, the back of his t-shirt caught in Bull's enormous jaws. "Thanks," he offered as Bull slowly eased him the rest of the way down.

That put a damper in a prospective rescue plan. The worry about Kakashi had driven all thoughts of his own infirmity out of his mind. The Sharingan was certainly doing its part to boil off the excess magic, but Iruka was still weak and shaky and, when he put a hand to his forehead, his skin would have given lava a run for its money. He couldn't stand, as evidenced by his graceless descent to the floor, and he certainly couldn't concentrate well enough to pull off even the simplest tracking spell. He had to get his temperature down before his brain boiled. If he could, he'd clear some of the fog out of his mind.

"What now?" One of the dogs asked from the bed.

Iruka grunted, "Bathroom," and was immensely grateful when Bull landed on the floor next to him with a solid thunk and nudged his head under Iruka's arm. He wound up putting the majority of his weight on Bull despite his best efforts, but he still made it across the expanse of bedroom, down the hall, and into his tiny cupboard of a bathroom.

Bull had to leave him at the door – there simply wasn't enough room and Iruka didn't really fancy having the dogs watch him shower. Luckily, the sink was within arm's reach, and Iruka steadied himself on that and the toilet as he pushed the door shut and reached for the shower. His water ran hot on the best of circumstances. He fiddled with the knobs until he had something more in the vicinity of lukewarm. Even that felt icy to his fingers and arms, but he stripped and ducked under it anyway, biting back a curse.

His body protested, wracked with shivers from the moment he stepped under the spray, but his mind cleared a little bit. The magic was still there, burning away at the underside of his skin, but he might be able to manage some simple spells. It wouldn't use a great deal of magic, but it would help. The first one that came to mind was one he used routinely. It was a good candidate; he could practically do it in his sleep.

He hadn't ever bothered to invest in an air conditioner. He opened windows when he needed to and, when he was particularly desperate, he'd cast a simple spell that tweaked the temperature in the room. He leaned against the shower wall, closed his eyes, and formed the hand signs that would anchor the spell. He reached for his magic and focused on taking the temperature of the bathroom down a degree or two.

His next breath frosted the air around him. The droplets on his skin froze instantly, creating a fine patina of ice. The thin film of water at the bottom of the shower turned to ice under his feet, and the little strength in his legs fled along with the heat. He slid down the wall of the shower to huddle at the bottom, knowing full well he'd die if he stayed there – hypothermia would get him just as surely as the magic had been trying to burn him from the inside out. On the plus side, it seemed like he'd drained his batteries by overdoing that spell. At least he wouldn't be cooked from within and frozen from without.

The spray of the shower had flash-frozen into an icy waterfall that hung precariously above him. The hot water still flowing from the showerhead formed runnels in the outside of the ice. If he could afford to wait long enough, that danger would be taken care of. Waiting, however, was likely to be detrimental to his health. Iruka closed his eyes and considered his options. He didn't have enough magic left to heat the room back up. Kakashi's familiars were right outside the door, but the cold made his voice hoarse and broken, and no matter how hard he tried, they didn't seem to be able to hear him. He was fighting a battle to keep his eyes open and to keep himself awake. He was losing.

Outside the bathroom, a chorus of barking rang out. Amidst the ruckus, one word, repeated multiple times, was clear enough to understand: "Boss!"

Iruka heard the door open and heard soft footsteps on the frost covered floor. He struggled to crack his eyes open, but couldn't focus well enough on the person bending over him. Still, there was only one person that the dogs called 'Boss.' "Kakashi?" One arm snuck under his knees, another around his back. He protested weakly as he was lifted.

Kakashi's grip tightened on him, as if he was afraid that Iruka would struggle. "Relax. I've got you."

"I'm naked," Iruka pointed out sleepily. The other protests hadn't worked, but maybe this would.

"I'm doing my level best not to notice."

Iruka wasn't sure how you didn't notice the state of someone's dress when you were carrying them, but he figured it at least allowed him to preserve some modesty. He changed the subject. "You okay?"

"I've been better." Kakashi turned sideways to fit them through the door. "But I'm still doing better than you are."

Considering that he'd feared the worst, just having Kakashi alive was a win in Iruka's book. "That's a relief. What happened?"

Kakashi dropped him onto the bed, clearly not trusting Iruka's limbs to support him even for a moment. "Sleep. I'll explain it in the morning."

Although the blankets and pillows beckoned him, a thought occurred to Iruka right before he attempted to muster up the strength to bury himself in their warmth. "The ice..." A towel landed across his ankles, and the little ice pellets popped off under Kakashi's ministrations. When it reached his torso, he tried halfheartedly to bat Kakashi's hands away, but he was feeling warmer and slightly more human, so he couldn't muster up the energy to put up a real fight.

When he was done, Kakashi sank onto the side of the bed and waited while Iruka burrowed under the blankets. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Ditto." Iruka murmured into the pillow. "No idea how I would've explained the dogs to my landlord." He heard Kakashi chuckle, rise, and pad out into the living room. The unmistakable clatter of dog feet on wood floors followed him out.

He was in a basement. He'd been here before – the dank, the moss, the patterns of cracks in the wall were all familiar, burned into his memory as if he'd spent hours studying them. He knew this place, and the recognition of it induced a sharp twinge of fear.

He was standing under a swinging, bare light bulb. As it swung forward, he caught sight of the shape of a young girl slumped in a chair against the far wall. He also saw the chaotic symbols etched in blood on the floor around her. The whole scene turned his stomach, but without even looking closely, he was certain that she was alive. Ransoming someone didn't work well if they died.

He edged closer to the circle, studying it. Some of the inscriptions looked familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he remembered them from. The four characters directly in front of her glowed an eerie red in the semi-darkness. One of the characters suddenly flickered and went out.

"What's it doing?" Obito said from behind him.

He turned, counting silently, and glanced back at him. He knew Obito had followed him in and he'd been hoping that Obito would keep an eye on the entrance, but Obito was staring fixedly at Rin and the glowing symbols. Another one fell dark. "It's a countdown," he heard himself say. Thirty seconds or so had passed between the two, so they had less than a minute.

Obito stuttered a couple of steps forward, red eyes focused intently on the circle. "Can we break it?"

"Not without hurting her." Another light flickered out of existence.

"Can you stop the countdown?

"No."

"So what do we do then?" Obito shouted at him.

But before he could answer, the final light dimmed and vanished. A voice that surrounded them, buffeting them with its force, intoned, "Time's up." For a brief moment, everything grew impossibly still.

Then a wave of wind blasted out from the circle, rocking both of them on their feet and crashing into the walls and ceiling of the basement with enough force to stop a charging rhino. The rotted beams trembled and cracked, the floor joists giving way under the weight of equipment and boxes stored on the floor above. With a shattering groan, the ceiling collapsed.

He dove to the side, rolled, and launched himself towards Rin – freed from her circle, but still unconscious. Something heavy smacked his shoulder as he went, but he ignored it. It was harder to ignore the beam above him breaking free from its supports. He threw up an arm to shield himself, but he didn't stand a chance against that kind of momentum. Pain creased the side of his face, and blood obscured his vision. He tried to shake it off, but his body refused to cooperate, and he dropped to on knee, ears ringing.

He could hear Obito shouting somewhere in the dust and debris. The ceiling was coming down, and he couldn't move himself let alone get to Rin. He willed strength into his legs, but his knees remained firmly rooted to the floor.

"Move!" That word was clear. Obito emerged out of the gloom, half-dragging, half-carrying Rin. One of his ankles was mangled, and he was barely making any progress.

He managed to get his legs under him in time to catch them both as Obito stumbled. He bent to sling Rin over his shoulders and made to grab Obito by the back of his collar to help him along.

Obito shook off the assistance. "Move!" He yelled again.

"The ceiling's coming down."

"Get her out!"

He'd have to trust Obito to manage. He spun, took two steps towards the stairs leading back to the ground floor, and was knocked flat by the blast wave caused by all of the debris from the ceiling making a quick descent to the floor.

Rin was shouting, but the words were incoherent through the ringing in his ears. She shoved hard on his shoulder until he rolled into a sitting position facing back into the basement.

"Obito," he breathed the name out, fear and pain roiling into a heavy lump in his stomach.

Blood trickled out of the corner of Obito's mouth with every labored breath. He lay pinned from the shoulders down under two massive beams and several tons of concrete and dirt from where the wall had collapsed. His right hand and head were still free, barely.

"Shit." He stumbled to his feet and tugged at the debris with no success. He turned to Rin, "Help me!"

But she knew. She was a healer by specialty, and she knew when a battle was lost. After gulping down a sob, she shook her head.

He ignored her and resumed tugging at the beams. "We'll get you out of there," he insisted, choosing to not notice the faint shakes of Obito's head. When Obito pointed at his eye and then jabbed a finger at him, he stumbled back. "No. That'll kill you!"

"Dead anyway," Obito pointed out.

Rin was crying, but she was also gathering her magic in her hands, reaching one hand towards Obito and one hand towards him.

"What are you doing?" He shouted.

She shook her head to clear the tears from her eyes. "We have to. It's his final wish."

"There's not going to be anything final about it. We're going to get him out, and we're going to get him better," he glared at both of them. "I'm not leaving either of you behind."

"Not gonna have a choice," Obito gasped. "Take it, please. You could do so much with it."

Even as he was working up another argument, Rin's magic hit him hard. The whole room spun, and he lost his balance, sagging to the ground and dropping his hands to the pavement to catch himself right before his chin hit. He just barely summoned the strength to turn his head to look at Rin. "What...?"

"I have to sedate you." Rin set her chin determinedly. "I wouldn't even try to heal your injured eye without sedating you; I'm not going to transplant one while you're conscious."

He fought it, but Rin's magic bore down on him, pushing him further and further into an unconscious state. The last thing he saw was Obito's lips twitch up into a small, satisfied smile. He couldn't fight the inexorable pull of Rin's magic. This was the last time he would see Obito; he had to say goodbye.

But his head hit the floor before he could get the words out. He knew he'd spend the rest of his life trying to say goodbye.