A/N: I was asked if I had ever considered writing a Sasuke x Tenten fic. The answer to that is simply: No. As I've been working on Double or Nothing, I began to see the potential of those two as a couple, under the right circumstances. Knowing my propensity for turning one-shots into series, I delayed my steam-punk western concept for another time. That didn't stop me from writing about three versions of this, but I think this is my favorite. With the feel of "Road to Perdition," and intentionally kept short, I humbly submit:

Konoha: 1931

It was a blustery, rainy, cold night in Konoha. The tiny, cozy apartment above the Ichiraku Restaurant creaked with a symphony of sounds as the wind pawed at the shingled roof. The apartment had long been out of use since the owner's daughter had married and started a family, but the chimney was shared with the main building, so the tendrils of smoke drifting into the wind were no more suspicious or out of place than the regulars eating below.

It was the one place they would never think to look for him.

He sat impatiently at the edge of the bed, eyeing the clock on the wall. The evening edition of the news was out by now, and there was one headline he longed to see.

"Murderer; Captured! Uchiha cleared of all charges!"

He looked around the small apartment, eyeing the walls that had been his refuge for the last two months. It was so close now – the last year and a half of hunting and investigating; of hiding and waiting – it would end soon. Soon the death of his family would be avenged. The people that had murdered his parents, his uncles, his aunts, his cousins, his friends, and his loving wife would be brought to justice.

The Uchiha family owned a lucrative shipping business, and the family was always featured in the socialite columns. The press had been thrilled when the heir to the Haruno fortune married the handsome younger Uchiha brother, and their pictures littered the pages of countless newspaper articles and magazine covers. As the years passed, the births of their two children were sandwiched between articles about prohibition, rising gangs and families, and rumors of rum running and arms dealing circulating through the streets.

The issue that had sold more copies than any other in the paper's history came out the morning after Sasuke's world had crumbled.

That fateful night in late spring, the local mob surrounded the Uchiha mansion and brutally slaughtered all guests at the birthday party for the Uchiha patriarch. Reports of how Itachi Uchiha had made mob connections unbeknownst to his own family, and had betrayed them all were splattered across every page and tongue in Konoha. The police raid on the Uchiha main warehouse that followed revealed an enormous stash of guns and liquor. Sensationalized newspapers and magazines full of pictures of the police removing the crates upon crates of guns and liquor were printed and reprinted. Every resident in Konoha read of the tragic decimation of the Uchiha family, and prominent guests including the Chief of Police, and the Police Commissioner Minato Namikaze.

The city mourned the loss of their own, and Itachi Uchiha became public enemy number one, decried by the headlines shouted by newsboys on the corner of the streets.

He and Itachi had been called away at the last minute; no one knew he wasn't going to be at the party.

Itachi wasn't connected to the mob.

The mob that attacked the Uchiha family had been led to believe that the Uchiha's had stolen shipments from them.

It had all been a setup, carefully orchestrated by the now-police commissioner Danzo Shimura.

He had the Uchiha's killed, their assets seized, his professional competition removed, and the mob then taken down, giving him complete control of the movement of illegal goods.

At 26 years old, everything Sasuke Uchiha had ever loved had been stolen from him.

Investigating officer Naruto Uzumaki had come to find him and tell him what happened and gave him the only glimmer of hope in a sea of trickery and deceit. By some small miracle, the children had given their hired nanny the slip (again) and gone to hide at the neighbor's house. The spinster that lived in the large home next door had known about the party and had half expected they would sneak away. Normally she'd send her maid with a message that they were with her, but her father and sister were out of town and she had given the girl the night off. She called over to the house, and a tipsy Sakura told her she'd send the nanny over soon to retrieve the children. At Ms. Huyga's urging, she allowed the children to stay to keep her company.

Two hours later, everyone in the Uchiha household was dead.

Hinata hid the children and kept them safe. Naruto had found Sakura in her last moments of life, and held her until she passed. Her last words were used to tell him the children were safe, and to beg him to look after them and Sasuke. Naruto's report listed Sasuke and the children with the deceased. It was the only thing he could do to help his childhood friend escape into anonymity. Itachi was blamed for orchestrating the massacre, and was on the lamb. That left Sasuke to follow his instructions from the shadows.

As fate would have it, he had gained a very unexpected accomplice.

He heard the key tumble in the lock, and took up his place behind the door with the gun in his hand. The figure entered carefully, closed the door and locked it, before leaning against it heavily, their breath coming in short, choppy pants.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes.

"Either shoot me or help me out of this coat," the figure grumbled. "I can't move my arm."

He tucked the gun into the holster on his braces and moved quickly to help remove the long, dusty trenchcoat from the shoulders of his ally.

"Thanks," she breathed.

"What happened?"

"Drunks. Brawl outside of the pool hall. Got our bets in though," she tossed a handful of money on the counter. "They weren't real happy that some kid did better than them at the numbers. Luckily, they hated another guy worse." She winced as she reached her good arm up to remove the newsie cap from her head and loosen the collar of her shirt. "I'm covered in mud. I'm getting in the bath with my clothes on."

She kicked off her shoes, and laid her gun on the table. He eyed the weapon.

"Why didn't you defend yourself?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" she retorted. "But there were three of them and I'm supposed to be a green kid; I don't start fights. I get out of them"

Sasuke Uchiha narrowed his eyes as Tenten Inuzuka, daughter of the former Chief of Police, widow to Kiba Inuzuka, and rescuer of his children, limped her way to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Tenten reached for the knobs on the clawfooted tub and started the water pouring. She drew the curtain they'd hung between the toilet and the bathtub to give them a modicum of privacy in the tiny space. Soon, she climbed in and simply let the water run over her clothes, resting her head on her knees.

She stiffled the groan that threatened to break out to bounce around the white tiled room. She ached everywhere; she was just glad she missed getting hit in the face. Itachi told them three days ago this would be over very, very soon. They were just so close now. She ached to see the children.

Tenten's mother died in childbirth. It had been her and her father her whole life. Every summer they would go into the mountains and hike and hunt and camp. He never expected his street-wise city-bred daughter to fall in love with the dog-training, wisecracking son of his favorite guide. He had congratulated himself on having a daughter that focused on her studies in school, and who didn't waste time with boys. He never expected her to spend every night for years writing to the boy she loved, and reading his replies in secret. He never expected that she would leave everyone and everything she had ever known and move so far away from her home and from him. By the time he realized the inevitability of the situation, it didn't matter that he'd never truly forgive the Inuzuka boy. His daughter was married and moved just after she turned 19.

He visited when he could, but crime was on the rise in Konoha. In one of his last letters to her, he left a set of instructions should anything happen to him. She had read the letter under the watchful eye of her sister-in-law Hana. After the untimely and unexpected death of her husband last year, she learned to trust her uncanny sense for when something was going to happen. A month later, she was called home to her father's funeral.

She put away her work clothes and dungarees, left her son with her sister-in-law, and traveled home to settle her father's affairs a mere week after he had been killed.

Officer Uzumaki met her at the train station. Her childhood friend had a favor to ask.

"You have kids, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"One son," she answered.

He frowned. "I thought you had several."

She swallowed hard. "I lost two. Miscarriages." She said as unemotionally as possible. "They would've been 5 and 3."

"They would be the right ages," he muttered. "I need your help."

Naruto then told her about what happened to her father and to the Uchiha's, and how the numbers didn't add up. He helped her carry out her father's wishes and settle his estate. When she left Konoha, she waited at a station one stop down. When she reboarded the train, a pale, raven haired woman shared her seat with two children. She took Sasuke's children to her husband's family farm and kennel where they raised and trained hunting dogs. If anyone checked in with her, or when Danzo's man did call the farm now and then, he heard how her three children were missing her father, but were glad Konoha was in such good hands. The people never knew they were speaking to Hana, or that everything else was a lie. She called the number her father left her, and two days later, Konoha's most wanted and most recently deceased brothers showed up at her door.

It was decided that Hana and Tsume would watch the children. The Hyūga spinster told her family she was too upset about losing her friends and that she would spend the next few years travelling abroad. In the hopes that she would come back married, her father agreed. She left with her hired traveling companion, stopped somewhere to buy a collection of exotic post cards, and then moved to the Inuzuka's help out. The young girl from Tenten's village got a free trip to the city out of the deal. Officer Uzumaki was on the team hunting for Itachi, so his long absences were encouraged by the new Police Commissioner Shimura. Itachi went deep under cover with the FBI and Sasuke and Tenten went hunting.

Her father had left a laundry list of contacts and suspects and information. They were so close now.

"I miss you so much," she sighed, although it would be anyone's guess if she meant her husband, her father, or her son.

She did not wear despair well, though. She stood abruptly, and climbed out of the tub, stepping on the old towel they used as a bathmat. She tripped in her haste, and was unable to keep from banging her bad arm into the counter, resulting in a vehement and colorful curse being released to echo damningly around the small, tiled room.

She heard the door creak open. "Tenten?"

"Close the door, Uchiha." She said not turning around, fighting to keep her voice even and her fatigue at bay. "I'm fine." She heard a sigh and then the door clicked shut.

She, slipped her braces down her arms, slid her pants over her hips, and stepped out of them in quick, jerky movements. She tossed pants, vest, and socks in the tub before gingerly wriggling out of her shirt. She was down to her Symington Side Lacer bra (popular with flappers a few years ago, and when covered with her chest bindings great camouflage), a man's white sleeveless undershirt, and a pair of young men's jockey underwear, and was rinsing her clothing until the water ran clear. She wrung the garments out and stood to hang them on the line over the tub. Satisfied, she dropped back into the tub and, letting the water fill this time, put her head under the tap. She finally leaned her back against the basin, and worked at trying to undo her hair with one hand, but it was going to be too hard. She tried to pull the undershirt off, but couldn't manage. She sighed in frustration. She heard the curtain slide back lazily.

"You going to ask for help, or are you going to be at this all night?"

She started and turned to look over her shoulder to see Sasuke sitting on the closed seat of the john, arms crossed, waiting for her response.

"What the hell, Uchiha?" she asked, eyes flashing.

"You said to close the door," he shrugged. "I did."

"You know damned well I meant for you to be on the other side of it," she muttered, turning back around to cross her arms (painfully) and stare at her water wrinkled toes at the other end of the tub.

She heard him stand up.

"Come on," he sighed. "Let me help. I used to undo Sakura's when she was tired."

Tenten bit her tongue. Sasuke rarely mentioned his wife; her death was still too fresh and painful for him just as Kiba's was for her. She was silent for a moment. "Kiba used to help me," she admitted as he pulled the pins from the braid coiled on her head. "He thought all city girls had short hair," she said with a half smile. "I think he liked it long, though." She sighed, leaning on the back of the tub.

"Sakura's was short for a long time," he said quietly, unwinding the heavy braid. "I think she missed it long though. She was growing it out." He undid the tie at the end of it, and put it over her shoulder.

She finger combed her hair quickly before ducking under the water again and reaching for the shampoo. She frowned. It had been there a second ago.

"Lean back," he said softly.

She looked over her shoulder at him and held his gaze for a moment. Wordlessly, she lowered her back to the curve of the tub. They were both battling demons tonight; demons that howled in the echos and caverns of their insides like the wind that blustered over Konoha. She suddenly had a very vivid memory of a shared bath with her husband and the night of lovemaking that had followed. She blushed. Now was NOT the time. Her eyes grew wide at the feeling of gentle and strong fingers on her scalp. She closed her eyes and tried to will away all memories and reactions – to go numb. Hadn't that always worked in the past? Isn't that what she did when she buried her father and husband and disappeared from the life she had known?

Numbness was safe.

She'd have time to feel later.

But as powerful fingers worked their way through her hair, she had to fight to keep her emotional distance, as physical distance was not really an option. He reached for the pitcher that they used for their sink-baths and began to rinse her long, brown hair with a gentleness Tenten had only seen when he tended to his sleeping children. When he put the pitcher down, she pulled her hair over her shoulder, wrung it out, and sat up carefully.

"Thanks," she said quietly before fishing out the chain and rubber stopper in the tub. She looked for a towel, but saw he had one in his hands for her. He reached out an arm and she used it to steady herself as she stepped out of the tub and onto the old, beat-up towel on the floor. He handed her the towel before frowning at her.

She followed his gaze to the ribs under her injured arm. Through the now translucent white fabric, he could see the bruises purpling her skin, peaking from under the binding, and along her hip and thigh. He arched an eyebrow at her.

"I fell," she admitted.

He stared at her.

"It was under two other people," she sighed. "Jammed my shoulder. Bruised a rib or two. It'll be sore but fine tomorrow."

He turned and grabbed the worn, oversized robe that probably once belonged to Teuchi and wrapped it around her shoulders. Wordlessly, he led her to stand in front of the fire. She wrapped the robe around her tightly, and began to wring her hair in the towel. She finger combed it to start it drying. He fetched her comb and came to stand behind her, carefully combing from the bottom of her hair up until he could run the comb smoothly in fluid strokes from crown to tip.

She felt her eyes close as a sigh of simple pleasure slipped out of her mouth. She glanced at the clock; she needed to get some sleep before heading back out in the morning. "I'd better get out of these wet clothes," she mumbled.

"I was about to suggest the same thing," he said quietly.

She stood very still, facing the gentle fire. She felt him move her hair to rest over her shoulder, his fingers light against her skin. He stood behind her and with a painstakingly slow and gentle motion, slid the robe from her shoulders to pool at her elbows.

She instinctively knew he was staring at her scar.

His fingers traced the thin fading line that sliced across her back, etched in her skin almost a year ago when they had asked the right questions to the wrong people. She had earned this permanent reminder of their shared torment even as she returned fire, killed the assailant, and secured their escape.

She shivered at his featherlight touch.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice a low, husky whisper in her ear. She half turned over her shoulder before shaking her head no.

He brushed his knuckles down her arms with an aching gentleness, and the robe fell to the floor. His fingers had drifted to play at her sides, rolling the hem of the undershirt (which she had probably taken from him over the last year) between his fingers. "Good," he said softly. He began to absently circle his fingertips along the contour of her waist, working his way along the flesh below her bindings and above her underwear. He noticed the slight wince.

He turned her toward him, gently, keeping his fathomless obsidian eyes locked on her hazel. His hands were at her waist, his thumbs were stroking their pattern up and down from her hip bones, and he rested his forehead against hers as he pulled her closer.

"Show me," he said quietly. She looked up at him, unsure. He helped her remove the undershirt and began to work at the bindings constricting and concealing her from him. He unraveled them from around and around her taut middle and surprisingly full breasts. She had had a life of training – of sports and outdoors and later hiking and hunting. Where Sakura's body had been smooth and supple, hers was lithe and strong. She was hard planes where Sakura had been gentle curves. He found he relished the feel of her muscles beneath is fingers even as he marveled at them. He watched the firelight play over her skin as the binding fell to the floor, leaving her in the constricting bra and men's underwear. He gently fanned his fingers across the bruises that ran down her ribcage. He deciphered the pattern of mottled bruising and frowned.

"They kicked you," he said quietly, tracing his finger over the mark.

"I might have kicked him back," she said in as steady a tone as she could manage

It felt like an eternity while they stood there, his hands sure on her heated flesh. She gently cupped his cheek and sought his gaze. He was only half surprised to see her eyes damp with silent tears.

"I know," he said holding her gaze steadily. She searched his face before giving a small nod. He held her close, though and covered her hand in his own as he turned to kiss her palm. Threading his fingers in hers, he returned her hand to his hip before wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I know," he assured her quietly as she rested her head against the thin fabric of his undershirt. He rubbed her back gently as they used sighs and heartbeats to tell their stories. They told each other how they missed their family, and their spouses, and their children. They offered solace and support, and something they had been avoiding discussing even as it grew between them. Neither wanted to acknowledge one more thing they could lose. Neither one of them could deny it anymore, either.

He tilted his head down and kissed her forehead. She was taller than Sakura had been. She looked up at him and pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. He was less burly than Kiba had been. He brushed slow kisses across her hairline and made his way to her waiting mouth. She raised the arm that she could comfortably wind around his neck and placed the other on his chest, pressing against the taut, lean length of him. He scooped her up, mindful of her injuries, walked her to the next room, and placed her gently on the bed.

He ran his eyes over her; her utilitarian undergarments long since pirated from thrift stores, the boys department, and her husband's chest of drawers were not the silks and lace Sakura had worn. He laid next to her and gently reached a hand out to trace over the bruises that marred her side. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over the angry patch of purpled skin. He heard her sharp intake of breath as her fingers raked down the fabric of his shirt, but she did not push him away. He continued to trail kisses along her ribcage and to the heavy low hemisphere of her breast. She deftly undid the buttons on his shirt and he slipped out of it. He loosened the strings on the side of her effective but unflattering bra before undoing the buttons on the front. Soon the offending garment was on the floor with his shirt, undershirt, socks and pants. With an infinite tenderness, he kissed the purpled ribs, his hands gentle and warm at her sides. She tentatively threaded her strong fingers into his hair – not the manicured and delicate hands of his wife, but short-nailed and calloused. Her tenderness never ceased to surprise him as she traced down the line of his neck and over his shoulders. She found not the broad shoulders and wild hair of Kiba, but tightly corded arms and black silk. He pulled back to hover his mouth near her breast, his breath ghosting over the goosefleshed surface. He placed a kiss between them and trailed them to her mouth where she welcomed him with kisses of her own.

They moved slowly as each noted and accepted the differences in the other. The warmth and summer of the love they cherished for their respective departed spouses was no different than it had ever been; but they were finding new loves – a budding spring after the winters of loneliness and mourning.

The "I want yous" came in small sighs of contentment and frustration. The "Stay with me's" were in gentle touches and long, powerful strokes. The arch of a back, the rasp of mouth over breast, the flick of tongue across skin, the winding of legs, the undulating of bodies – all small perfectly intelligible "I need you's." When they finally did join and shudder and cry out and collapse and wrap up together and hold one another in the aftermath of the seismic shift in their world, the "I love yous" were loud and clear.

It was a sentiment worth repeating.

The fire had burned itself out long before Sasuke was done making love to Tenten. They kept the shades down and the curtains drawn because the apartment was supposedly uninhabited, but morning was heralded by the sound of trilling birds that would give way to the song of the busy streets of Konoha.

Tenten stretched languorously. Sasuke pulled the curtain back from the window with the thinnest shade and watched as the low glow of early morning light played in the waves of her long, brown hair. He pulled her to him, pressing her back to his chest and nuzzling her neck while she absently stroked the arm under her head and he rested his other arm on her hip. He pulled the thin sheet up to better cover them both and to rebuff the reminder that another day had started in the world beyond their enclosure.

She wriggled in his arms and turned to face him, kissing him good morning before resting her head on his chest with a contented sigh.

What could possibly have happened in the outside world that could compare to the phoenix of faith and love reborn and blazing in two hearts so long cold and dry?

"EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT!" The voice of the news boy carried up to the window. Sasuke checked the clock.

7:59 every morning, rain or shine.

"Persistent little shit," he muttered.

Tenten gave a low laugh and snuggled closer to him. "Gotta give him credit," she said. "We almost never have to actually buy a newspaper."

"INVESTIGATION INTO UCHIHA CASE BUSTS WIDE OPEN! COMMISH GIVEN THE KAIBOSH! COMMISIONER SHIMURA FOUND TO BE BEHIND THE UCHIHA MASSACRE! SPECIAL EDITION! ITACHI UCHIHA CLEARED ON ALL CHARGES! EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT!"

But for lighting fast reflexes and a stroke of luck, Sasuke would have broken his nose when both he and Tenten shot up and sat bolt upright in bed.

They stared at each other, waiting for the news boy to repeat himself; was it true? Was it over?

Sasuke gave her a look and she pressed a fast kiss to his lips. "I'll go; I won't be recognized. Give me a second." With an agility she really should not have had given her injuries or all of the activity she had so recently undertaken, Tenten bounded out of bed and threw on a set of men's clothes. Sasuke dressed as well, in case something happened or if he needed to go find Itachi. She had barely made it down the hall when her sharp scream was quickly muffled. Sasuke raced to the door gun drawn only to see Naruto hugging her tightly, a pile of newspapers scattered on the floor where he clearly dropped them next to her hat. Sasuke holstered his gun in relief, as Naruto released Tenten, handing her back her hat while she pushed her long unbound hair behind her ears.

"Is it true? Is it over?" she demanded to know.

"Yeah," he smiled brightly. "It's all done. FBI raid went down last night. Itachi should be right behind me. We can go and get the kids on the 12:00 train. 9:00 if you hurry."

Tenten turned back to Sasuke, her eyes shining with tears. "It's over," she said in an excited whisper. "It's really over." He opened his arms to her, and she raced toward him. He caught her and spun her around, laughing. Seconds later he crushed her to him in a passionate kiss before resting his forehead against hers, their cheeks damp with tears. She buried her face in his collar with happy sobs while he kissed her hair. When he looked back over to Naruto, the blond had a smug look on his face, and Itachi was standing there, silent. Naruto looked over to Itachi and said "Pay up."

Naruto grinned as Itachi fished money out of his wallet. "Get your things," he said thumbing through the bills he had just been handed. "You've got a train to catch." Sasuke looked to both men who had risked so much for him and his family, and to the woman who had suffered through it all with him while battling her own demons.

"Not until 12:00, we don't," he said. Tenten's eyes grew wide as he scooped her up and opened the door. "Come back later," Sasuke said, and the door closed and locked behind him.

Naruto stared, open mouthed at the door, and Itachi gave a rare, slow, smug grin. "I'll be taking that back, now," he coolly retrieved the wad of cash from Naruto's hand. "C'mon. You have just enough time to try to talk me into buying you ramen for breakfast."

With that, the two men left, and the two lovers said all that they needed to say with promises of saying it all again later that night.

They packed their meager belongings, and prepared to go out in the daylight of the world they had left behind, facing it openly together for the very first time. Tenten suddenly looked nervous.

Sasuke kissed her gently before taking her hand and saying the only thing he knew he could to tell her she'd never have to worry again.

"Let's go home."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Yes, the Symington Side Lacer is a real thing. The 'flapper' look was to have as little of a bust as possible. They buttoned in front and had laces on the side like a corset. Jockey underwear came out in the 30's as well. If you look at what gals were wearing then, you'd understand why Tenten would opt to wear Jockey's when having to wear men's clothes!

I might revisit this one day; I thought the plotline had real potential... but I don't need another distraction... right? Thoughts?

Be well, friends!