Disclaimer: Once upon a time there was a girl that didn't own Naruto.

Summary: He won't give up on Sasuke. Nightmares. Kakashi has those, too. Modern. OneShot.

Mixed feelings about this; it seems too gushy, but I still kind of like it. I hope it entertains.

Son

"Sasuke?"

The lights off, apartment dark; Kakashi frowns. Sasuke is always home before Kakashi himself, there is no exception. Usually sitting at the table, eat cold pizza or yogurt or some other easily accessible food. But the kitchen is lifeless, the table empty, the refrigerator emitting a dull hum.

Kakashi shrugs off his coat, scanning for a note. Maybe he has left for something. Maybe he's decided to hang out with a schoolmate. (No, he wouldn't have, Kakashi knows that. Sasuke does not connect. He doesn't have a reason or the time to. Kakashi knows that.)

He drapes his jacket on a chair and walks further in. Perhaps he is sleeping. He does that, sometimes, if he hasn't slept well the night before, nightmares chasing his mind.

Nightmares. Kakashi has those, too. Nightmares of a tall, dark man standing before him, dispassionately wiping a blade clean, carefully staying out of the light, lifeless eyes on him.

"He developed a routine," the man says, "that was his mistake. He became predictable and weak. Easy prey for an experienced predator.

Kakashi's hands are shaking, heart beating wildly, cold sweat already covering his skin.

"What did you do to him?"

The man idly examines his wicked knife, looking for stray smears of blood.

"Exactly what was expected of me. He's in the bathroom."

Kakashi is already moving, stumbling over his feet, tears stinging his eyes. No, No. This is why they moved. So no one could find them, so they would be goddamn safe. This is why they moved so often, why Sasuke never bothered to make friends—NO!

The tile floor is bloodied, a small pool quickly spreading into a large one, and Kakashi is by the boy and pressing his hands to his stomach, rolling him onto his back and there's a flicker of a grimace on Sasuke's face—Kakashi allows a weak, choked laugh. Alive. It hasn't been long.

His phone. His cellphone. Kakashi is reaching for it, blood somehow all over his arms, pants, shirt, his son's blood (for what else is he?) and he's shakily dialingfor the ambulance. Black eyes are looking up at him, face pale, voice weak and wavering.

"'Kashi..." but his words dissolve into a faint groan and Kakashi manages to say something comforting.

On the other end of the line, someone picks up the phone.

"My son," Kakashi is saying, not even thinking anymore, his own thoughts incoherent to even himself, "he's—he's been stabbed. He's dying, please send someone, I—"

"Slow down, sir. Where are you?"

Who the fuck remembers the address of an apartment that they moved into less than a week ago? Nevertheless, Kakashi manages:

"Lakeside apartments... room three-twelve."

"Your name?"

"Hatake... just... send someone. My son."

He doesn't know why he's calling Sasuke his son. He never has before. They've lived together for years, but it's always been 'Kakashi and Sasuke' not 'Father and Son'. They're not related, really. Neither of them have ever forgotten that.

"Someone's on the way right now, sir, just, please, calm down—"

It's tasteless, but Kakashi laughs. Oh, his son—Sasuke is dying and they want him to calm down. Do they want to take him out for drinks too? He'll get Sasuke something, if he happens to live.

He tosses the phone aside. Someone's coming. He doesn't want to have an idle chat.

Sasuke's eyes are closed. But he's breathing. Barely.

Itachi is standing in the doorway, behind Kakashi.

"Do you really think you can save him?"

Yes.

Because he's always been worth it.

End Son