Title: "Out of the Sky"

Author: Shaitanah

Rating: R (overall)

Timeline: post-394

Summary: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? Itachi and Sasuke; no yaoi Please R&R!

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's Almost Out of the Sky. Lyrics from The Terms In Which I Think Is Reality by Allen Ginsberg.

Dedication: to Helike because she's the biggest Itachi fan I know and my dear friend, too. And the only way she tolerates Sasuke is if Itachi's there to knock some sense into him. XD

A/N: I do realize that Sasuke is somewhat OOC here. But believe me, guys, it's intentional! And rather important plotwise.

OUT OF THE SKY

The heart has no tears to give, it drops only blood, bleeding itself away in silence.

Harriet Beecher Stowe. 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'

Chapter 1

An Awfully Big Adventure

Reality is a question

of realizing how real

the world is already.

There was one more fit of coughing, and silence fell. I pricked up my ears. I listened, trying to catch the rhythm of his breathing, some kind of rustling… anything! But he was quiet, and I couldn't help thinking: what if he was–?

He had been my only company for so long. I knew neither his name, nor what he looked like. The only thing that identified him was a voice: gentle, vaguely familiar, strained because of never-ending thirst. I knew the feeling. My lips were chapped, my throat was sore and the sound of my own voice frightened me.

But the silence in the next cell frightened me even more.

I tried to think of something nice to say. I'm not good at that. I'm not good at talking at all, for that matter.

I perched on the small ledge on the wall that separated us and craned out my neck so I could reach the small barred window just below the ceiling. I could see part of the cell, identical to my own, just as dark and filthy, but I couldn't see the prisoner. He must have been sitting in the left corner which was concealed from me. In a way I was grateful for not knowing what he looked like. It's always easier to let go when the person is faceless.

"Hey," I whispered, trying to keep disbelief out of my voice. "It's gonna be all right. I'll get us both out of here."

I didn't know why I was so concerned over someone I didn't even know. I don't deserve the priviledge of caring for anyone.

I recalled my first day in this prison. The memory flashed before my eyes; I trembled at how intense it was, and wondered if he ever remembered his first day.

…I woke up on the cold floor and blinked my eyes several times instinctively to make sure they were intact. Blunt ache drilled the back of my head; my eyes stung; sweat dripped over my body, and the clothes clung heavily to the skin. I tried to move and barely managed to sit up. Dizzyness struck, but I overcame it and looked around.

The room which I found myself in was small, walls faced in cracked stone slabs oozing with grime. There were no windows save for a small barred opening above me. A few cast-iron pillars, painted muddy-red as far as I could discern in the dense darkness, supported the ceiling.

Prison cell, I thought with vague amusement. Lovely. I had gone through hell only to end up locked up in some godforsaken prison! It was so pathetically ironic that I even released a soft chuckle.

Other thoughts came to my mind. Did I kill him? Was he dead? I barely remembered what had happened. Everything got mixed in a terrible blur of hands reaching for my eyes, the overwhelming power of electricity pulsing in my hands, astounding revelations and the final dizzying fall.

He had lain immobile at my feet. I had gazed upon him and seen no life in his dull eyes. The Sharingan had faded from them. Could he be dead?

The door crashed open, snapping me out of my tormenting thoughts. Two tall bulky men entered. I sprang up on my feet, taking up the battle stance. Whoever they were, they looked rather unfriendly. I reached for the Kusanagi and realized with a heavy heart that I had lost my sheath.

They moved. Sparse light that hit from behind them as they moved away from the door almost blinded me. I staggered. I spun around to hit one of the men with a taijutsu grip – and I missed.

I missed.

A firm fist connected with my solar plexus. Darkness and light mingled in front of my eyes and went up in flames as pain pierced my body. I fell on my knees, struggling to breathe. The man gripped me by the forearm and dragged me out of the room. The other one shut the door and followed him in dismal silence.

I was so tired I couldn't even resist. They brought me to another room with dirty white peeling walls, strapped me to a table and injected something in my veins. The silence around me got thicker. I thought I was deaf.

I lay there for a while, trying to figure out if I had died and gone to hell.

They threw me back in the cell what seemed to be a few hours later. I closed my eyes and fell into a restive sleep which was interrupted quite soon by some other man who brought food. It was a spit of white slush (presumably rice, though I had a strong suspicion it had already been put to use twice or more) on a thin seaweed bedding. It smelt weird, but I was so exhausted that my stomach clenched at the sight of it and I fell upon it avidly. After I was done, exhaustion overrode anger and humiliation, and I fell asleep again, this time for a longer and more restful period.

The next day I felt better and undertook to examine the cell more thoroughly. I peered through the barred window into the neighbouring cell and judged it to be empty.

The men returned. This time I was hell-bent on getting my way out of this situation. I knocked the larger one out, but the smaller one turned to be a qualified taijutsu fighter. His style reminded me somewhat of Lee. I was able to foresee some of his moves; however, I was still weak, and whatever they had injected me with the day before had blocked my ninjutsu. He bound my hands behind my back, spurned his partner nonchalantly to wake him up, and together they dragged me once again to the white room. I kicked and screamed, tried to use my legs and teeth as a weapon, spat off the foulest curses. They paid no attention. I demanded they tell me who they were and to what purpose they kept me here. They ignored me.

A cool hand lay upon my forehead. I could feel a medical jutsu paralyzing me; not only my body, but my will as well. I tried to wriggle out of the straps, but they only bruised me harder. Needles broke into my veins, drawing blood and injecting something. And once again, I found myself slowly dying beneath the chilly light of hospital lamps.

Such was the first week, the same routine day after day: tests, meagre feeding and sleep, and feverish plans to escape in between. I wasn't sure I could do it, yet I wouldn't give up. I simply hated the idea of dying here.

By the start of the second week I began hallucinating. I heard voices, laughter, saw flashes, smelled the smells that I had long forgotten: cat's fur, hot ramen with red beans, Sakura's apple shampoo… My chest tightened. I was being driven to the edge, but they didn't know me if they thought I would surrender.

It was only natural that at first I mistook the sound of coughing for a hallucination. But it persisted, and I crawled towards the right wall, pressed my ear to the damp stone and listened. The sound repeated over time.

I reached out towards the opening and whispered:

"Hey! Anyone there?"

It sounded stupid. Even more so because the coughing stopped. I slid down on the floor and choked the spark of hope down.

The next few days passed as one. Each time I tried to revolt, all my attempts were brutally suppressed. I was experimented on more fiercely and wondered if they were running out of time. No one talked to me, no one answered my questions. I was treated like a ghost.

My condition got worse. Cold sweat replaced fever, and vice versa. I was haunted by vile dreams and visions, my heart pounded in my chest and my eyes hurt as if they were about to bleed.

One day after a particularly arduous resistance the voice of my neighbour finally reached me.

"Pretend you don't care anymore," he said. "They'll begin to lose their guard soon."

As much as I was unaccustomed to taking strangers' advice, I did this time. I simply lay there waiting and allowed them to take me wherever they wanted to. The next day I did the same thing – and I got a double portion of rice.

"Who are you?" I questioned my mysterious ally. "What is this place?"

"I'm not sure. I overheard the guards talking once. Looks like it's a Kekkei Genkai prison."

Kekkei genkai? My eyes grew wider. So they kept me here because of the bloodline limit. Of course! Everyone wanted a glimpse of the Sharingan. I couldn't help feeling extremely stupid.

The next few days we seldom talked. Nevertheless, I felt like I had known him my entire life. There was something in his voice that both soothed me and alarmed me. I knew the answer was right in front of me, yet I couldn't grasp it.

His cough got deeper, drier. The damp air of the cells only made things worse.

"Are you sick?" I asked once.

"Allergic to one of the preparations." The voice crackled. "I think."

Meanwhile they began to affect me more strongly as well. My hallucinations got worse and finally resulted in a fit of hysterics when I saw Naruto. He stood by the door, grinning in his usual annoying fashion, so bright, and sunny, and cheerful. I reached out to him hesitantly, but he remained unattainable like a perfect dream, and he said in an uncharacteristically low voice:

"Your place is right here, bastard."

They restrained me after I almost succeeded in activating the cursed seal. There were no more tests, and my neighbour didn't answer my calls. This time I was sure I would die.

But I didn't.

They released me two days later and continued their research. The next cell seemed to give away the signs of life again. I sat down to weigh my chances…

…and that brought us here.

"You want to run?" my neighbour asked. "I've already tried. Four times."

My mind exploded with panic. How many!? I took a deep breath. After all, I was Uchiha Sasuke and I could do better.

I saved my chakra and trained to release even the most basic ninjutsu. Katon, Chidori – all these were sorely out of question, not to mention the Sharingan. After brief doubts I chose Kuchiyose no Jutsu. Not exactly basic but it seemed like the most realistic choice for the time being. I doubted I could summon someone as powerful as Manda, but any help would come in handy.

"Prepare to run for the fifth time," I said.

"Hmm," the answer came.

Something I myself would have said.

The snake turned out to be big enough and highly paranoid. Go me, I managed to summon a paranoid snake. It was a fickle ally, yet I had little choice.

The snake panicked in the small room and virtually crushed its way out. Its wriggling shook the foundation of the pillars; the celing overhead began to tremble. I grasped the snake's tail, propelled myself onto its back and let it carry me out of the crumbling cell.

I set it on the guards who came by, perturbed by the noise, and recalled my promise to the man in the nearest cell. A tiny voice whispered to me to leave him be. I didn't know that man. I didn't owe him anything.

I ignored it and picked the lock cautiously. I did that a lot at Orochimaru's… It gladdened me to know I still had some skill left.

I said nothing, merely left the door open and let him follow me. My insane summons feasted on the guards. I let it be and ran forth and I heard the sound of another pair of feet behind me. I didn't look back.

We ended up in a cavernous hall where multiple corridors met like streams in the body of a river. I hesitated. I didn't remember how I got here; any of these halls could lead to freedom, and any of them could lead to death.

"Left," a steady voice behind me uttered.

I looked around finally. After what sounded like an eternity of deafening silence I said only:

"Fuck."

My heart sank. I should have known he hadn't died! Why in hell would he? After all, I was here. And I lived.

He looked thinner; his long hair which I couldn't remember if I had ever seen loose at all hung over his shoulders in greasy streaks. His eyes were the same muddy-red as the pillars inside my cell; I could barely see the tomoe.

I should have guessed why his voice seemed familiar.

Before I could protest, he gripped me by the elbow and turned left, tugging me along. His speed didn't abandon him. We ran so fast our feet barely brushed the floor. It was strange, almost frightening to think of us together.

Us…

From the corner of my eye I spotted a cloud of shuriken stars flung in our direction. I ducked. Itachi's grip on my arm loosened. He vanished out of sight while I reversed the shurikens and sent them back at their owners. My snake came to my aid, and I slithered out into the grey yard upon its strong back.

I moved slowly, in my opinion, much slower than an average rookie. Fresh air sickened me. They shot kunai complete with exploding seals at me. The wall of fire broke out between me and the fence. I leapt forth, the snake coiling and writhing beneath me, and barely avoided bumping into the hard stone. I wished to hell I had my sword with me.

Itachi was already on top of the fence. He reached out for me. I grasped his hand without much thinking. We flew over the fence, landed heavily on the grass and ran.

The faster we ran, the less susceptible to anything of the world around us I found myself. The colours got blurred and mixed into a sickening welter. My throat was dry, every rasping breath came out with huge efforts. Silence muffled every sound.

I didn't know how far we were when my legs wobbled and I fell on the ground, knees hitting something soft and slippery. Fat earth after the rain. My hand slid out of Itachi's grip. I pressed my palm flat against the muddy ground and struggled to breathe.

"How?" I gasped, appalled at how weak my voice sounded. "Is this a hallucination?"

"No," Itachi replied softly. His face remained unreadable. "We have to go."

"I am not… not going anywhere… with you!"

I forced myself up on my feet and lunged at him, barely conscious of the fact that I was unarmed and unable to perform any strong jutsu. Sickness rolled through me like a tidal wave. Itachi managed to dodge my blow, but in the end he was as drained as I was. He barely held his balance. I sank on my knees in front of him and whispered:

"What's… happening to me?"

I loathed us both at that moment. It was worse than any of my nightmares. To be so weak, so powerless before him once again after he had finally acknowledged my strength!

"The drugs," Itachi said casually. "You will get worse once you start coming off."

Really? Why, thank you so very much!

"Why… aren't they affecting… you?"

"They are. But yours are combined with the ones you took at Orochimaru's."

He flashed me a look that was a little too eloquent to my taste. So now he thought I was a drug addict!?

That alone would have made my day…

"You may believe you are free, little brother," Itachi continued, "but in truth you are as far from it as you were in your cell. This forest is a deadly maze. This is where I got caught three out of four times I attempted to run."

Now that he mentioned it, I finally noticed tall shaggy trees standing all around us. Soft wind brushed through the leaves. Dense foliage covered the sky completely; it created a permanent shade and gave off the feeling of eeriness and insecurity.

"Let's go," Itachi said.

Something clicked in my mind.

"Did you know it was me?" I asked in a deadpan voice.

He was silent for a moment. Then he nodded curtly and took off. Blinded by my rage, I darted after him. Something exploded in my chest. I dropped on my knees, panting, trying to rid myself of that unbearable tightness that compressed my lungs, and passed out.

I half-expected my eyes to be gone by the time I'd have woken up. I blinked to make sure the soothing darkness around me would not last forever, and slowly it settled in my mind that I was lying on the soft bedding of leaves. My body was aching all over, but it wasn't that much of discomfort, frankly speaking.

I wondered if the previous events had been the product of my traumatized mind. Alas, I spotted Itachi quite soon, and all my illusions were promptly dispeled.

He was sitting near me, one leg stretched forward, the other bent in the knee; his lax hand rested upon the knee.

"What d'you do?" I breathed before realizing how panicky I sounded.

Brother eyed me calmly. "Nothing. Do you feel better?"

No! Shouldn't that be bloody obvious?

Hoping it was (much like my growing murderous intent), I shut my eyes wearily. A few minutes later I registered a movement next to me, and the brother forced me up on my feet. I was about to comment on the obvious injustice of my treatment (he was stronger! did they feed him better or something?) when he knitted his eyebrows and said flatly:

"Does it look like I'm joking around?"

"I wouldn't expect that from a person who has no sense of humour," I mimicked his tone sweetly.

Did I mention that deep inside I'm a snarky bastard? Well, I can be excused: I'm on drugs…

Feeling my mental health was going down the drain (much like my reserve, calculativeness and sadly my ability to keep on my legs), I leaned heavily against Itachi, took a deep breath and straightened my back. My bones creaked. I didn't like those little sounds my joints were making, but I figured I'd leave it for later to solve.

Quietly, he started walking, and I joined him, lost in my own eerie thoughts.

I didn't know how long we spent on the road before Itachi suddenly came to a halt. It was so abrupt that I bumped into him, and it snapped me back to our misfortunate reality. The trees rustled quietly around us.

My spine went rigid. I always felt this kind of tension before battle; then my body would relax, power rushing in the streams of chakra, my Sharingan would flare to life, and I would be ready to crush any obstacle on my way. This kind of focused patience was something I had combined from both my teachers: Kakashi and Orochimaru.

This time no relaxation followed. I felt strained, my throat sore and burning, and I shivered when I felt brother's cool fingers brush my knuckles. They constricted around my hand in a moment. I couldn't see Itachi's face save for a glimpse of a sculpted cheekbone. He turned his head slightly, and his deep red eye flashed in warning.

I understood him.

And I marveled at it.

Fighting… not against Itachi, but alongside him. It was enthralling.

It seemed so maddeningly ironic that I finally had my childhood dream come true. A wish granted – but in such appalling, twisted way, that I wanted to pout and demand my wasted time back.

Peachy.

Itachi sprang forth, and so did I. We moved as one, sliding speedily between the swaying bushes. Our pursuers (I only saw them as shadows gliding somewhere behind us) did not relent. We pushed up and landed on a huge branch high above the ground. The deep green and sweet-smelling cover of foliage overhead was so close that it smothered me.

It didn't do well being unarmed and close to fainting while ambushed by a swarm of enemies.

I broke a couple of strong pointed twigs and darted them like kunai. I managed to hit the traget twice, not strong enough to kill the men, but they fell unconscious and for some time occupied the attention of their colleagues.

We moved to another tree.

"Twelve," Itachi mouthed.

Twelve hunters to get two exhausted helpless escapees. Gee, I was flattered.

We managed to tear our way through the thicket and hopefully lose our pursuers. I could not sense them; neither could Itachi unless he was skillfully (and for no sane reason) pretending.

I struggled to catch my breath. This surreal atmosphere and my utter powerlessness were wearing me out. His fault. A mere thought of him had always had this destructive effect on me. His presence hindered me thinking properly.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, digging my ragged nails deep into the flesh of my palms, hoping it would sober me up. Pain always did. My hands looked unbearably white. I squinted. It hurt my vision. I could feel my eyes transforming, the Sharingan switching on and off, spinning like a broken Kaleidoscope.

Itachi gazed at me.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came. Something had gone terribly wrong. I was losing myself in a sudden fit of panic.

And finally, not caring how much it would hurt my pride, I screamed as loudly as my lungs could manage. I kept screaming and huffing and panting as my body hit the ground, and the world around me was consumed by vibrant white flames.

Afterwards, there was nothing.