So I discovered this in my folder. I have had it written for well over a year now...I feel stupid. Anyways, I realize why I hadn't posted it- I think it is horrible. It's melodramatic and corny, but it does provide closure. It also shows when my first love of uchihacest began to filter into my writing...

ALSO, I dedicate this to Shakespeare because, even though it is nowhere on par with his amazingness, I did steal his ending tendency. Tell me if you know what I'm talking about :)

A crash ending, are you ready?

Continuum

Madara breathed noisily in through his nose. He walked back and forth, the eyes of his two underlings watching him cautiously. The room was filled with an animalistic curiosity and an almost carnal desire to destroy it. The two wished to ask questions and Madara was about ready to interrogate someone as well. However, the paper on the desk was not a person and could only give answers found in the written word.

The paper was recovered by Pein and Konan from Deidara's possession. It was locked in a box, which looked more decorative than functional. The two ended up breaking it open under the careful guidance of Sasori, whom Madara immediately dismissed once the box was open. The contents were then splayed on the table and three pairs of eyes had read the material.

None of the readers were very happy.

Konan cleared her throat; Madara flicked his eyes to her, Pein was still too riveted on the paper to respond. She made a gesture for Madara to sit, but he refused. Instead he picked up the paper and read the header again, which made his stomach do three more flips:

Konoha Police Department

"I honestly thought he got rid of it." Pein said, his eyes attempting to lock onto Madara's. He fingered his gun nervously, wishing that he could destroy what was before him, but he knew that wasn't the point. "I mean, come on, it links him directly to the crime. Itachi would be stupid to hold onto something like that."

"Itachi would be stupid!" Madara rounded, the paper crumpling in his hand: "The day Itachi proves stupid is the day I die!" He spat, throwing the paper heatedly on the table. Madara thought of storming out, but a maternal hand on his arm forced him to sit. He settled for rubbing the bridge of his nose between his forefingers. The tears were aching at the back of his eyes.

"It links both of them to the crime." Konan said blankly, Pein gave a hum of understanding. A pregnant silence passed, the paper a haunting presence in the room. The sound of cars buzzing down the byway was the only noise for a few moments. However, the noise was drowned out by all their wandering thoughts and all their towering fears. The police report, whomever it indicted, was dangerous.

"So he's willing to sacrifice himself?" Pein mused, whistling low at the prospect. Here he was saving his ass by killing his students, but the Uchiha is willing to throw away family and reputation for a brother who hates him. If he has to admit anything, he'd admit that Itachi had balls.

"Not sacrifice," Madara clarified, rising from his seat: "He's going to fucking martyr himself. All of a sudden, by taking me down with him after helping Sasuke out, he'll seem like the next Jesus fucking Christ."

"I wouldn't go that far." Konan interjected: she was beginning to feel uneasy with all the anger in the room. Even her cool was beginning to slip. What if they all got landed in jail? With the influence of Orochimaru behind Sasuke, Madara would be on death row and her and Pein would be imprisoned for life. And maybe, just maybe, if Sasuke and Orochimaru were feeling gracious, Itachi could get out Scott free.

"Well, I'm going to pay him a visit and I suggest you two go make sure Sasori doesn't leave his home, understood?" Madara ordered, eyes flashing. His mouth was quirked, his teeth showing from behind tight lips. His hands were clenched and his whole body tense, a wild, disturbing aura surrounding his form.

"Understood." His two underlings said in unison.

Naruto was sitting at the kitchen table with Sasuke and Itachi. Sasuke's anger towards his brother was ebbing since they've been living side by side for a week now. Also, Itachi has proved to be a reliable, almost fun, guardian. If the circumstances were better, Naruto might have admired Itachi a bit, but the shadows of history never quite lost their grip.

That morning, though, Itachi had dazzled Naruto once again. The blonde had been late to breakfast and was happy to see a plate of eggs and toast on the table, still hot. Itachi assured him it was for him, and Naruto had dug in ravenously. The elder then took the chance to seat himself across from the youth and strike up a conversation:

"You and Sasuke sure seem to be getting along. I don't think I've ever seen him take a liking to anything other than his reflection in the mirror."

Naruto's head shot up, his eggs being quickly swallowed. He was then free to let out a guffaw: "And I didn't think stoic Uchiha's could joke!" Itachi made a half-smile, the best anyone could ever get. Naruto then addressed the accusation: "Yea, we get along. I mean if we had met in school, we'd probably hate each other, but since we've been forced to live together we got past the 'I hate your guts' stage pretty quickly."

Itachi nodded, running his fingers along the edge of the table. Naruto thought the conversation was over and began to stand up. Itachi's contemplative voice, though, pulled him right back into his seat: "I think it's a good thing he has a friend."

Naruto smiled lopsidedly, but fully: "And I'm glad that I just so happen to be that friend."

Itachi glanced up and locked eyes with Naruto. The Uchiha's eyes were intense and Naruto felt his breakfast gurgle uncomfortably in his stomach. The elder's voice was lower now and more serious. "Please, promise me, you'll protect him."

"Why?" Naruto asked.

"Because I don't think I can."

Naruto had been going to ask 'why' again, but Itachi's glance behind Naruto's shoulder told him to 'keep quiet, Sasuke was there'. Therefore, later that day, Naruto was happily sitting at the table waiting for the pizza guy, but an aching uneasiness had settled in his stomach. He never had bothered to ask about whom anyone was and their purpose in the grand scheme of things. He never really thought it mattered because he never thought it would culminate.

The three were jolted from a stupor as the doorbell rang. Itachi eased from his chair and went to go answer it, digging in his pocket for his wallet. Sasuke looked over to Naruto with an inquisitive stare, knowing something was wrong with him. But what? It was only the constant drumming of fingers that gave the blonde away. He harrumphed and looked towards the threshold, unable to see the front door from where they were seated.

Meanwhile, Itachi opened his wallet, counting the bills as he opened the door. He already knew the price, so he quickly put the cost plus tip in his hand and was about to hand it over. The pizza man refused though and the voice did not belong to a teenager. No, it was much deeper and had an eerie calm about it.

"I'm flattered, but I'm not here for your money."

Pein and Konan entered stealthily through the door. Their efforts were useless, though, when a silky voice told them their presence was acknowledged: "I was wondering when you'd get here."

There was a bitter twang of humor in the short phrase, further echoed by cold, apathetic eyes. Pein grasped his pistol from inside his jacket. Konan quickly grabbed the hilt of her throwing dagger. They felt terribly out of place in the home. Here they were, the lowliest, murderous scum, among great works of art. Pein knew Sasori adored art, but he never knew he had such expensive tastes.

The floor groaned as Pein edged forward, noting the cell phone in the red-head's grasp. He attempted to keep the gaze of the purple eyes, but a haze shielded the orbs. He looked lost, rather than scared, and much older than his twenty-four years. His pale skin was drawn and blemished by nights of not sleeping. His body sagged, although he attempted to stand tall. The youth before him would not surrender, but it looked as if his body was leaving him with no choice.

"Put the phone down." Pein said through gritted teeth, leveling his gun. Sasori looked at the phone, as if he did not notice he was holding it. Then, his eyes were no longer shrouded, but shimmering with a fierce determination. His voice, though, was as monotonous as ever:

"Just one phone call."

It was a statement, not a question.

Pein looked at Konan, who, although her face didn't change, was stunned. Sasori, in all the years they knew him, was never attached to anyone. They only knew of his relation to his grandmother, who he cared for until a year ago. He had taken leave a lot in her final years in order to take care of her and help her remember where and who she was. Pein wondered if this was Sasori's compassion resurfacing.

He didn't lower his gun, but he did remove his finger from the trigger.

The phone jolted Sasuke and Naruto from their quiet conversation. It was a bit of banter, nothing serious, but the severity of their situation was haunting them between each parry. The ring cut through their little taunts and both wished Itachi would rush in and answer the phone. However, the elder Uchiha did not appear, so Sasuke stood up.

He pressed the phone to his ear, clearing his voice, and saying apathetically: "Hello."

"Sasuke?" The voice sounded almost like an echo of Sasuke's tone and the raven felt a chill run down his spine. His other hand gripped the receiver, he swallowed thickly. His voice was rougher, now, and Naruto contemplated approaching:

"This is he. What do you want?"

An inhale, an exhale, and then a statement that chilled Sasuke to the bone and made goose bumps rise on his arms, "There is something I have to tell you."

Sasori's voice was cold, metallic, but Sasuke sensed the fear. He swayed a bit and Naruto tumbled forward to steady him. The younger Uchiha pushed the blonde off and pressed the phone closer. He blinked the tears that were at the corner of his eyes and said with a strained voice: "I'm listening."

"You're not welcome here." Itachi muttered, pushing the door closed. Madara easily stopped it from closing and thrust it back. His smile was malevolent, his features bitter. Itachi narrowed his eyes, knowing he was acting like his brother. He hated this man, but he also respected him. However, Itachi knew this man had no saving grace or bit of mercy.

Madara easily pushed past his former student, stepping into the living room. He appraised the inner rooms, a soft contemplative look fleeting across sharp features. Eyes similar to Itachi's looked back at the youth, and the youth's stomach flipped. Red flecks stood pronounced in the irises, a phenomenon Itachi had inherited as well. They both had lines beneath their eyes, signs of insomnia and constant planning. Conniving thoughts and ideals had sharpened their cheeks and mouths to razors. Teeth glinted as Itachi snarled; they flashed when Madara smiled. Oddly, both lip movements were exactly the same. Madara found it humorous.

"I come to see my favorite nephew, and this is the welcome I get? I'm hurt!" A hand went over the left side of his chest. The beat was steady and slow beneath those digits. The rise of the chest was even and relaxed. Itachi, however, felt his heart hammering and his lungs contracting more than they should. Fear left a cold metallic taste in his mouth, but slowly he was beginning to tolerate it, the creature of hatred was slowly taking over his body.

"Why are you here?" Itachi asked with his voice level. His eyes narrowed, but his stance looked bored. Desperately, he wished to place himself between the potential aggressor and the adolescents in the kitchen. Any movement, though, would tip off his uneasiness and Madara was a predator. He was a predator far more than human; while humans had grown comfortable and cumbersome in their position, Madara was keen, cunning, and agile. His eyes were not the window to the soul, but, similar to Itachi's, they were the way he'd get into yours.

Madara stepped closer, but Itachi didn't move. He only relaxed, in fact, and Madara was thrown a bit off kilter. He didn't let it show and simply raised a hand, brushing a strand of hair from Itachi's face. His warm hand then rested tenderly on the cheek, on the face that was a mirror image of his own when he was of that age. They looked as intimate as lovers as they moved, angling for a better position. Two hands gripped Itachi's face and the youth's features softened. He licked dry lips, fear a fluttering uncertainty, hate a burning necessity. Madara leaned in close, his lips only a few centimeters from that swiping tongue, his voice exuding noticeably fake warmth: "The same reason you are."

The assassin steadied the gun again, realigning it with the shake of Sasori's head. The red-haired man was struggling, the words unable to be torn from the emotion associated with them. Konan was already grabbing a phone of her own, prepared to warn the leader if something went awry. Pein gave her a warning look and they silently understood Madara no longer needed to be involved.

"It's about your family." Sasori said with his voice imbued with the tiniest hint of emotion, an inflection of physical pain. Pein swiped his finger past the trigger, but returned it to its former place. He was wary of this, of any secrets being revealed. However, no one would survive this, so why not amuse him?

He felt sick, suddenly, and he knew he wasn't humoring Sasori. He was praying to god Sasori would find a way to escape. Memories rushed like a strong acid, burning his insides. He remembered the hatred that had marked the beginning of their relation and the companionable silences that evolved it. Most of all, though, he remembered the last few idyllic years, before Itachi began moving against Madara.

He put his finger on the trigger and Sasori saw the threat, and a sad smile gripped his features. In those violet eyes he saw a grief that was tearing the man apart. He was as cold as Pein; he had always been as indifferent as Pein. And in their similarities, when the organization was stable, they forged a friendship, but they always knew it was their similarities that would shatter it.

"Drop the phone or I'm going to shoot."

Sasuke's breathing was shallow and quick. Naruto sat helplessly in the chair, looking at his friend. He felt the Kyuubi whisper, but he forced it from his mind. All he could hear were his own thoughts, screaming as loud as an airplane, as seducing as a siren. Help him, his mind seemed to offer, to persuade, but the blonde knew he couldn't. He trusted Sasuke and this trust left him immobile.

"Tell me." Sasuke choked eventually, the counter biting into his clutching fingers. Blood was on the tip of his tongue, his teeth gnashing at any flesh they could catch. He felt it gather in the bottom of his mouth and he rolled it around until the cavity was coated. It was sharp and it was metallic, but it was comforting. None of this, he realized, was a dream.

"Your father and mother were in the police force. Your father wanted to secure the department and his family's finances. Your mother believed your father was faultless."

Sasuke already knew this, but it made his stomach turn. He always knew the truth, but when someone repeated it, it would always hurt more. He never thought it hideous, just a natural thing. Yet, with a voice strained, but attempting to collect itself, reiterating this truth, he knew it was a grotesque fact. Those people shouldn't have been worshipped as Sasuke had worshipped them. They should not have been missed as Sasuke had missed them.

"To meet his goals, Fugaku took a job. He could wield a gun and the police were at his back. He was immune, Sasuke, to any crime he would commit. That's why he took the job. He was supposed to take the lives of a few political foes of a business and get money and funds for the police department. Do you know this company?"

Sasuke could only manage to shake his head, tears burning like fire at the corner of his eyes.

"The Sound Company."

Sasuke gasped and he realized he knew this already. Something in the way Orochimaru would speak of Itachi. It wasn't just hatred, but as if he was defeated. It was almost as if Itachi was an enemy to him, someone who foiled his plans. Come to think of it, Orochimaru spoke fondly of the police force, minus the new recruits who were Itachi's lackeys, and constantly was spiteful of certain people. For a man who was a law-abiding citizen, the tone in which he wished death on others was, almost, disproportional.

"Itachi fought against him" Sasuke said, his voice small. Blood dribbled out over his lips, tears falling loose from his eyes, and he could hear the agreeing hum from Sasori. However, the hum was too short, an afterthought forming in the static silence.

Sasori felt the metal press the center of his forehead. He knew, when the next few words would leave his mouth, the bullet would be fired. He swallowed and simply pressed the phone towards his mouth, so no syllable was lost. It was useless since his audience was so rapt, but it was the gesture that mattered. Pein now understood the magnitude of Sasori's efforts.

He put a little pressure on the trigger, the movement not unnoticed by the victim. He felt the warning eyes of Konan: he should fire. Hell, the moment he saw the red-head he should have fired. Yet, he couldn't. The violet eyes had pleaded for him to pause, but not rethink. Sasori's final wish was just a few more minutes. And, for people who pleaded for just one second more, he had been unmerciful. Sasori was different and Pein knew that was the reason for his hesitation.

In those quiet months they had talked, discussed techniques, he remembers. At first it was really just to become closer, so they could work together more. Sasori was indifferent to it; Pein just simply viewed it as an obligation. However, they found themselves meeting up outside the assigned times. They spoke of lost childhoods and shattered dreams. They spoke of hopes they shared and ends they wished to meet. They formed a sort of quiet kinship, a simple understanding.

He then thought of the strength Itachi must have had, to protect his brother. And of the strength he had used to kill those who did him wrong, although they had nurtured him. Itachi wasn't working for his own ends, but for his brother. Was Pein any different? He worked for Madara, to better another, to keep everything safe. He'd be strong, not weak. Gnawing doubts told him that he was wrong, he was not like Itachi.

Sasori exhaled slowly, pulling his audience from a terrified stupor they had fallen into, "Madara arranged the meeting for your parents and Orochimaru. He also appropriated the silencer for Itachi. Don't trust anyone Sasuke, dear God, don't trust anyone."

He ended the call and Pein stood up straighter. He looked straight into the eyes, the violet misted with the moisture of tears to come. Perhaps the Uchihas had cried as their son leveled a gun at them. He didn't care. In the heat of the kill nothing matter. He fired and watched the blood arc from behind the head, matting the hair and soaking the clothes as the body crumpled.

On its own volition, though, Pein's body crumpled right beside it.

Madara's hand traced the curve of Itachi's neck, his thumb rubbing the pulsing carotid artery. He relished the feel of it, the life he had taken and formed into himself. Anger coursed briefly through him, his touch becoming bruising. Itachi was precisely like Madara; perhaps he should have seen it, this disloyalty, since the ambitions he had taught Itachi to hold weren't the only thing the youth had learned. Frighteningly, his nephew learned to be ambitious and, with the arsenal supplied by Madara, had a way to get his aims.

Anger racked his body, heavier built and taller by a few inches. Itachi was motionless, emotionless, but inside he was writhing. He had grown up in a household where intimacy was forbidden and achievements the form of currency. As he felt the thumb circle his artery and then down to his delicate collar bone, he was coursed through by spark. His breathing was heavier and harder to regulate.

He reached up, grabbed the hand that was now beginning to move his collar. He felt the touch, the flesh like a force, a force pulling him in. The terrible anger had grown into his skin and frustration was grasping the wrist. He could feel his wrath beating along with his heart and his emotions were no longer caged. He looked into the eyes of his former mentor and saw the colors of feeling dancing in their depths.

He, then, immediately, knew why he was here. 'The same reason you are'. Of course, Itachi thought and suddenly felt foolish. Deidara hadn't checked back in, he was discovered, and somehow fear evaded him. The hand on his cheek coaxed his eyes back to those of his uncle, the thumb catching a stray tear. Itachi didn't even know he was crying.

"You do know what I do to people like you, right Itachi?" His tone lightened, it was almost as if they were just sharing a small joke: "I mean, you've helped me with it a dozen times!"

The grip switched, Itachi was pushed against the wall, a frame clattering from its mount. He hissed as a body much stronger, much larger than his own pressed against him. He felt the heat of equal anger crush him and he knew his wrath was fighting a battle to free him. However, it became exhausted as Itachi recognized the emotion in Madara's eyes, an emotion he knew he held in his own. Within the red flecks of blood lust and black darkness of indifference, was a feeling more primal than the hatred that brought them together:

Betrayal.

Sasuke shakily hung up the phone. Naruto finally pulled himself from the chair and enfolded the quaking Uchiha in his arms. He nuzzled the cold neck, breathing softly and whispering consoling words. He told him how it was alright and how it was going to be okay and he was there for him. Sasuke, though, didn't move.

Naruto attempted to wrap him tighter, but the rigidity of the body made him loosen. After sliding his palms over Sasuke's arms, nipping the neck, and searching desperately for a reaction, he released the raven. He walked around and stared into the unseeing eyes, the mouth a pale line on a white face. It was frightening to see Sasuke so scared, so absolutely helpless.

Then, the eyes gained life. The mouth turned into a sneer, but the body was unanimated. Thoughts were almost visible, seen by the twitch of the eye or quirk of the mouth. Power, hatred, and vengeance pervaded the room with an unrivaled tenacity. Naruto attempted to grip Sasuke, to stop this outpouring of emotion. He tried desperately to pull it back into the boy, but he knew he had no control.

Sasuke's chin rested on his shoulder, his lips beside Naruto's ear. The breathing was becoming deeper, but controlled. The heat from the breath was burning and the blood from Sasuke's mouth was cold as it soaked through Naruto's shirt. Tears began forming in the blonde's eyes as he realized his loss. Sasuke's voice was harsh and cold and barely contained:

"I'm going to kill him."

The phone clattered to the ground, the battery flying from the back. Konan made a choking sound as she shuffled backwards. Her cool unraveled and she didn't think to recover it. Instead she stared at the contorted body, the beautiful red hair painted with a darker, more mortal color. The bits of carnage swept behind it, some splattered on the beautiful paintings. Much to her dismay, she saw a reproduction of the 'Scream' hanging on the wall nearby. She almost laughed, but instead a cry broke past her lips.

"My god." She said unsure and in indescribable pain, "What have we done?"

Pein was deaf to her plea. Blood stained his own palms and he was mesmerized by it. None of it ran through his veins, he shared no genetics with it. His situation, he lamented inwardly as he released a mournful, twisted cry, was nothing like the Uchihas. His friend was looking out for someone else, and Pein was looking for an end. The disparity of the two situations shot him into a revolting cycle of sentimentality and grief.

He recalled all the moments they hated each other and he doted on the pleasant times they shared. He remembered when Sasori and he went on their first kill together. He hated the other man at the time, missing Konan. He always attempted to push Sasori away and Sasori let him do as he pleased. Although Sasori was younger, he seemed to be so precocious. He never let Pein's antics get to him and each time they met with a fresh start. Finally, those fresh starts stopped in those quiet months. Those damned, fucking quiet months of peace. He realized, far too late, it was the calm before the storm.

The dreams they had spoken of. The goals they had discussed. Everything seemed distant and irrelevant. And amidst the tears he was shedding, one hope they both, he remembered, had shared was freedom. And as the carmine liquid, mixed with his own salty tears, ran thin and made a slow migration between his fingers, he realized Sasori had found it. And as he glanced at the gun still gripped in his hand, still loaded, he realized he, too, was only a hairbreadth's away from liberty.

His breath vacillated as it crossed his lips. Itachi could feel the pain, now, mixed with the abhorrence. He swallowed and the eyes of the elder darted to the Adam's apple. He watched it, enthralled, as it bobbed, almost imperceptibly under the smooth skin. Itachi knew the satisfied look Madara had as he bent closer, resting his face on Itachi's neck, was anything but intimate. He knew, all too well, that Madara was thinking of how he should rupture his jugular vein, how the whole throat would collapse after a few careful stabs.

He kissed the vein, the vivacity of the traitor, the life of the betrayer. His lips also touched the carotid artery, already bruised from his previous ministrations. He then lifted his head and stared at the eyes, sparked with emotion. He saw the distress and the self-loathing of knowing this would occur and being unable to stop it. He saw, drawn into every line and every crevice the same helplessness he, himself, had felt earlier in the office when he had discovered the police report.

Itachi watched as the raw emotion in the eyes was eclipsed by lust. He felt the pressure of hatred shift into something far more complex, far more evolved. The strength of the hands was unbelievable and he was thrown across the room, crashing onto the hearth. The fireplace utensils clattered beside his prone form and he turned his head. He watched the man advance, unrecognizable by the blurring at the edges of Itachi's vision. The glint of the knife and an acerbic laugh:

"Oh, Itachi, what have you done?"

Sasuke was pulled from his comatose state with the first crash, but both were shocked into fear. Then, the sound of flesh hitting floor echoed across the kitchen and that sent Sasuke into a frenzy. He ran out of the room, Naruto followed closely behind, and skidded to an abrupt stop in the living room.

The sight appalled him, but was not wholly unexpected. Madara was dressed in a business suit; Itachi's white button down shirt was marred by ash. His brother was struggling to stand, not bothering to hide his weakness further. Madara passed a look between the two and beamed broadly. He placed his knife back into the depths of his clothes and produced a gun. He clicked the safety off and leveled the barrel at Sasuke.

"And here's the one that made it all go wrong."

Naruto had tackled Sasuke; Itachi had flown the distance to Madara. The pairs skidded away from each other, Itachi feeling his bruised ribs threatening to crack, a splinter having already harmed a lung. Blood rose in his mouth and his knee throbbed. His hands locked on the wrists, but this time he did not lose the advantage. The pistol was thrown under the couch and Itachi was attempting to prevent him from reaching for the knife.

Meanwhile, Naruto was dragging Sasuke to his feet. The raven shook his head once, twice, and then focused on the quarrel on the floor. It looked like a mess of limbs, a contest of strengths. He made move to help, but Itachi barked "Get out! Now!"

The knife flashed, Madara had reached it, and Itachi felt it bite deep into his arm. Naruto and Sasuke watched stupefied, unable to do anything as Madara's skill and speed showed. The blade flashed time and time again, blood boiling from the wounds. Itachi groaned, and fought, as his legs, his arms, and his extremities were slashed. Vaguely, and much to his confusion, he realized Madara was intentionally not hitting any vital organs. Suddenly, this was a very personal battle.

"LEAVE!" Itachi shouted and twisted his head. Instead of catching his little brother's eyes, he held those of Naruto, the one he invested trust in. The blonde heard the words from earlier echo like a prayer through his head and suddenly he could move. He grabbed Sasuke, who was prepared to join the fray, and used his greater size to pull Sasuke outside. He dragged him to the edge of the woods, where they collapsed and both of them knew all was lost.

Konan touched Pein's shoulder. He looked up, his eyes red and swollen. She somehow maneuvered him to wash himself clean and take care of the crime scene. They ended up wrapping Sasori's body gingerly in a sheet and taking it with them, something they never did. Pein was driving, his hands shaking on the wheel. He passed a glance backwards and saw the red veined in the pale blanket.

Konan pressed his hand in a comforting gesture and he gave her a soft stare. He saw the pain in her face and he knew it was reflected, ten fold, in his own features. Carefully, he backed the car up and turned on to the road. They were speeding, but no one really cared. The whole time, Pein feared the blanket would fall and reveal Sasori still struggling for life.

"Where are we going?" Konan asked. It was genuine, not accusatory, and suddenly Pein felt there were not enough miles between them and the house. He pressed the pedal harder and the car tore over the old country high way. His eyes looked along the road, empty and deserted. A part of him wished for oncoming traffic, a large truck would be preferable.

With a sigh, though, he recovered his will to live, a mere shard of its previous existence.

"Anywhere but here."

And he realized how cliché he sounded and they both laughed.

The knife fell by the wayside once the door closed. Itachi was confused when Madara carefully stood up. Itachi was unable to move though, the pain a debilitating hum. His uncle tenderly picked him up and placed him on the couch. He watched the blood run from the fresh wounds and dribble from the mouth. Madara kneeled beside his nephew and brushed a thumb across the coated lips.

He, then, brought the liquid to his mouth and cherished the taste. He opened his jacket pocket and took out a small device. It had a little light and a small panel that blinked a '10'. Itachi strained to see it, but his head fell back. Madara caught it gingerly and stroked the soft tresses. Itachi passed one last furtive glance over his uncle's face and saw regret.

"You were my favorite." He admitted, resting his cheek against the pulsing of Itachi's neck, his words reverberating inside the youth as he spoke: "I think you're the only one I ever cared to love. That's why I have to do this. I know you hate yourself, and you hate yourself so much you have no care for you and only for others."

Tears were cold on Itachi's neck and his heart began hammering as his wounds screamed. He knew he would pass out and heal, but time was slipping from him. The strangeness of Madara's exposed emotions was riveting and, once again, not unexpected. Itachi knew they were exactly alike, both with a buried complex, a heart that beat in a different tempo. He felt his clench, though, as Madara's hand pressed on the device and his head lifted to stare at Itachi.

"It hurts me the most, though, to know I'm not one of the others you'd die for."

And in their sick twisted world, Itachi knew he would have. He knew that events that happened in the past had remained there. He knew both of them carried anger and frustration, which was bound to them by events in the past. In that moment, though, they seemed to break free from these past restraints and, as one sees the final moments of life before death, they were bombarded of sweet images they had always over looked.

As the timer for the bomb gave the final beeps, increasing in beat as the time was diminishing; Madara rested his mouth on Itachi's, tasting the blood he knew circled in his own veins. Then, as the explosion ripped from somewhere in the house, upstairs perhaps, and the floor collapsed and walls buckled, Madara gripped Itachi and pressed him mouth on him hard.

Itachi was not disgusted and he was not scared. He used his dwindling strength to press onto the familiar heat, a heat he only ever felt himself contain. His final moments were blissful because, for the first time ever, Itachi was being held. And, for the first time ever, he was reciprocating the action. And moments before his death, he understood the meaning of love.

They watched the house fall, shrapnel shrieking through the air. Naruto felt it hit his body, as he covered Sasuke, but the force tumbled them further into the woods. The pain was blinding as the splinters and stones settled into their flesh. The sky was at new dizzying heights as consciousness escaped them. The sound of sirens was a lullaby to their dulling senses.

Naruto awoke, blinking away sleep. He felt his arms restrained and the heavy weight of bandages. His back throbbed as if scalded by boiling water. His entire being seemed enflamed with a niggling pain that gnawed at his bones and tore his muscles. His head pounded and felt three sizes too big. The stark white of the hospital wasn't much better either.

He could hear no noises, only the soft pattering of, perhaps, a nurse. Steady breathing came from his left and he knew he had a visitor. However, he was only focused on discerning his location, and the eerie silence hinted to only one place: the psyche ward. A scream rose from down the hall and then died in an anguished gasp. Yes, he was in no other place but here.

He turned his head to the side and saw Sasuke seated beside him. His eyes were dark and bags hung under them. His smile was thin and his arm was in a cast and sling. Orochimaru stood in the doorway, his business suit smart and sharp. His gaze never left the younger Uchiha, and papers of release were gripped in his hand. Naruto swallowed, he felt abandoned within the absolute despair emanating from Sasuke.

The blonde knew he was trapped here again and the Uchiha would flit his way right out of his life. All of it seemed like a nightmare, a bitter dream concocted by the darkest forces known. However, Sasuke's face reminded Naruto it had happened and they were busted and only Orochimaru's grace had probably saved the younger Uchiha.

Sasuke gave a weak smile, which looked distorted and warped on his face. His voice was thin, but a fake jubilation was forced amidst the syllables. It ended up just sounding plain sardonic albeit its truth:

"So, here we are again."

Sappy ending, no? A lot of emo characters? Yes? Ah well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Sorry for the late late late update.

Bai