Title: "Out of the Sky"

Author: Shaitanah

Rating: R (overall)

Timeline: post-394; post-451 (epilogue)

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; gen] Please R&R!

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's Almost Out of the Sky. Lyrics from You by Richard Siken.

Dedication: this is and has always been for my dear friend Helike. 3

Special thanks: to Satalex (she knows why); Helike (for believing in me); fatelesskitten (for listening to my constant blabbering); R.G. Waffles (for writing the most incredible reviews I've ever had the pleasure to receive).

A/N: Well, that's it, sweeties! Thank you so very much to everyone who's read and reviewed this story (one of the few stories of mine that I'm [tentatively] proud of). It's been an insane journey of a year and half. I never expected to get so many reviews for it, and I'm immensely grateful to everyone who left them. You're all incredible! 3 *hugs*

Epilogue

Seven Day Mile

In these dreams it's always you:
The boy in the sweatshirt,
The boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me
from jumping off the bridge.

I woke up at once and opened my eyes wide. Morning had chased away the chill of night. Sparse rays of sunlight poured down on me, but I still felt cold, inside rather than physically.

He was gone.

My brother was gone. Again.

I sat up and looked around, searching for some indications to prove me wrong. He might have just gone– somewhere. Yeah, right.

Emptiness seeped into my mind, numbing every thought, every sensation. I was alone. Completely and utterly abandoned.

I growled in despair. I shouted out his name. I cursed. I clenched and unclenched my fists and spat off every curse word that came to mind. I whirled in place in helpless fury, looking and looking for someone who I knew had been gone for hours already. Finally, I spotted the message scribbled in the dirt.

'Some stories are better off unfinished.'

I snarled, fell to my knees, and screamed:

"Why!?"

Why would he do this to me? Why would he leave me like this? I was almost ready to forgive him. For all I knew, today at dawn, we would not have fought.

But no, he did not fear death. It could not be the reason. He could not have run off like a coward. But why, why?..

"What now!?" I screamed and rammed my fist into the ground. "What the fuck is going to happen now, huh!?"

I rose abruptly and slid the Kusanagi on my back. What use was there to sit and mope around? I would track him down again – and I would have my truth.

I had been alone for such a long time. By choice, mostly. It felt unusual to seek company now. Yet here I was standing at the ruined gate of the village I had once called home, waiting for something that even I couldn't explain.

I remembered the look on Karin's face. She had asked me where we were going now. Broken and defeated, I had said: home. Even then, I hadn't meant it. It was not my home – but somehow, deep inside, I hoped it could be.

It was not the place that mattered, but the person. I remembered looking at the sakura tree that last time and seeing Naruto between the branches. The moron had been grinning at me, as if giving me a tip.

I didn't know what I would do when I met him. He would probably yell at me, kick me in the gut. Should I let him? Should I fight back? Should I tell him what I had been through?

That was something I hadn't really considered before. Talk.

I'd sat through plenty of talks though. Just as I'd promised Itachi, I found Madara – and he told me the truth. Just as Itachi had promised me, I wasn't ready for it. I still felt that I was lying at the bottom of an ocean, crushed by tons of heavy black water. But I understood why he'd chosen to keep it from me.

Anger flared anew. He had transferred his Mangekyou techniques into my eyes – and not a single word of warning! He had bound my heart to him again – and ditched me like useless baggage. He had been a slave to Konoha – and… and…

"He did it to protect you," Madara had said.

Eventually, anger died down, giving way to light sorrow and emptiness. There was nothing I could do. My brother was dead to the world. For all I knew, he could really be dead. Regardless of reality, I intended to keep up the pretense.

I was in no shape to take on Madara alone. He asked me if I would join him. If I wanted any more revenge. I did. The lust for it burnt in my throat. I wanted to see them all dead. Feel their blood on my hands. Everyone who was to blame for what my life had become; including the masked man in front of him.

I said no. No, I didn't want to join him. I wanted to be at peace.

There was only one place where I could go. So when Hebi who had caught up with me halfway from Madara's lair wanted an answer, there was only one thing I could tell them: I was going home.

I waited for the sound of hammers to die down. Darkness enveloped Konoha, and I finally set foot in it. I walked like a shadow between rows of tents, temporary residences of the survivors of the great battle. I heard Naruto had beaten Pain, the questionable leader of the Akatsuki. Good for him.

I didn't try to seek the ruins of the Uchiha Compound. I wasn't here for my past, but for my future.

I entered Naruto's tent quietly. He was asleep. Fully clothed, only the headband missing, one hand tucked under his head, the other resting across his belly. He looked tense even in his sleep, but my coming in didn't seem to disturb him in the least.

I sat noiselessly by his bedroll and looked at his tanned, windblown face. Wisps of yellow hair scattered messily over his forehead looked bleaker in the dark of the tent than I remembered them to be. The whisker-marks stood starkly against his cheeks.

I reached behind my back slowly. If I were an assassin, I could take him out so easily now. But it wasn't my objective. I took the sword off and put it aside. I should probably throw it away for good. My war with the world was over.

Would he accept me?

I recalled our meeting at Orochimaru's, the last real conversation we had before my delusions started haunting me. I was here for him, only for him. He was the last person left that mattered.

I sat there till morning, insecurity eating away my soul. At dawn I was half-ready to run off like Itachi had done. But I stayed. I sat as if rooted to the spot – and waited.

Finally, he opened his eyes, blinked sleepily and looked at me.

Now we would talk.