Dark Truths Undiscovered

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's characters. Nor do I own the songs used within.


Sakura sat still, no longer arguing the point as Itachi set out bandages and ointments. His dark eyes moving over her form, taking inventory of her injuries. Clinically, methodically. Much as she was used to doing herself.

“You should have moved faster.” he said at last, reaching for the buckles of her ruined armor.

She lifted her hand to stop him, her green eyes uncertain. His other hand simply closed over her wrist gripping just enough to provide a silent warning. She let go, feeling foolish for being so skittish. Feeling dizzy from blood loss.

Itachi was not like other people. He had no interest in her body other than as a weapon, a tool for his use.

He watched her drop her eyes from him and look to the side. Her expression troubled for only a moment. He wondered if she was mulling over her previous battle.

“I meant to” she whispered, “You knew… all this time you knew and you let him go. You didn’t tell me.”

Her eyes flitted to his now, angry. Itachi pulled her armor from her, dropping it on the floor with a careless flick of his wrist.

“What made you bolt in the other direction?” he asked, ignoring her quiet accusation, he owed her nothing.

Not even the smallest explanation, best she understand that.

She narrowed her eyes. Not going to tell her was he? Two could play that game. She turned to glare at the far wall, effectively dismissing the man before her. She failed to see the momentary flash of red in his eyes. He let her sulk, reaching over and ripping the tattered and bloody shirt from her body with no regard.

She gasped, fighting to cover herself, startled by the near violence of his actions. Itachi caught her wrists, holding her hands away from her body.

“You will be still.” he growled at her, “Why. Did. You . Bolt? I would recommend answering because I dislike having to repeat myself Sakura.”

She bit her lips determined not to tell him of that short pang of panic for him. She refused to talk about it with him. She didn’t even understand it herself. It was irrational, illogical.

She had mulled it over as he had carried her to the small house concealed from the road. She imagined it was because he was a link to Sasuke and saving him. That would make sense… if she hadn’t been more concerned for him, than his brother at the time.

Itachi watched the pink shimmer rise in her cheeks but said nothing. Releasing her hands and reaching for the bowl of medicinal wash. She was surprised that he had let the subject go as he had and merely winced when the sting of the fluid ran over her wounds.

She stared at the wall, pretending not to notice how thoroughly Itachi was in his treatment. Carefully prodding the edges of each wound. When he slid his kunai onto his palm she closed her eyes tightly. She knew what he was about to do.

Itachi probed the wounds, knowing it hurt. Not concerned about that. The edge of the weapon caught the edge of a scale and he lifted, wrenching the object free of her flesh. He knew that left alone they would burrow completely through her body. Even now, they had caused extensive damage, but she would live.

He would see to that.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the table as he worked, knuckles going white. She wished to god sometimes that she didn’t have such a high pain threshold. She would have been perfectly happy to pass out and wake up when he was done. But she’d never been that lucky. She bit her lip instead, hard.

She recalled a mission when she had been a Chuunin, and had taken a solid blow to her head, the resulting gash had needed threads. Days from the village she had been forced to make Naruto see to it. She’d walked him through the process step by step.

Her voice had been calm and unwavering.

He’d been appalled at the thought of causing her any pain and those his hands were gentle, he had grimaced and apologized endlessly. Even when she told him that she couldn't feel it for the ointment. He kept plying the needle with soft “Sorry Sakura-chans” falling from his lips like a litany to heaven.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Itachi asked, noting the soft smile on her features. His voice washed over her bringing her from her reverie back to the pain of being patched up. She noted with relief that he had removed them all, and was once again pressing the edges of the wounds, blotting the blood and grime away.

“Nothing important” she told him, “Just a memory.” He spread the thick numbing salve over her naked torso, moving around to trail warm fingers over her chilled back. She was glad that he had the salve. She didn’t look forward to having him stitch her up like a quilt without it.

“Of Sasuke.” he said, moving to wash his hands. She glanced over her shoulder at him in question. Had he just used a tone? She was pretty sure he had.

“Naruto.” she admitted, taking solace in the thought of her blue eyed boy.

Itachi moved back to her side, threading the curved needle. “Do tell.”

She knew what he was doing. She wondered why he even bothered. Many times she encouraged a patient to talk to her about something else when she sewed them up. It helped she’d found. Surely her comfort didn’t mean squat to him. But she indulged him anyway, because her loneliness for Naruto was mounting.

She told him the story, finding that smile again as she recalled his worried expression, the care in his callused hands. When he had finished, he had pulled her into his arms for a gentle hug that she was certain he needed more than she did. “The big baby needed to be comforted after that I guess.”

She'd been careful to reveal none of the kyuubi vessel's secrets.

Itachi was still drawing the torn flesh together with careful movements. “You speak with such care for someone who merely harbors a demon.” he pointed out. He carefully tied the last stitch and cut the thread.

Her reaction was instant. She had lashed out swiftly despite her pain ,the identity of her victim.

She slapped Itachi across his face. Making his head snap to the side, a crimson print growing steadily on his pale cheek.

He looked back to her, his sharingan eyes bright crimson. She dropped her gaze to avoid them.

“Don’t you ever say such a thing about him” she hissed at him, “You are more of a demon than he can ever be. He is good and kind and strong. He loves and is loved. A monster like you would have forgotten how that feels!”

Itachi shoved her back, pinning her shoulders to the hard tabletop, leaning over her, eyes still crimson but the Sharingan was not spinning. She met his gaze with a resigned one of her own.

His face was inches from hers. “You are right little Anbu” he growled down at her, “You might want to remember that. I have killed people for less and I have not guaranteed your safe return to Konoha.”

Then he was gone, across the room. Eyes dark and unreadable as he tossed another of his shirts at her.

“Put that on” he snapped, “And drink the tea on the counter. The last thing I need is a staph infection developing in you. You still have a purpose to serve for me woman.”

He walked outside as the storm hit.

Sakura flinched as the thunder and lightning rattled the house. She pulled the shirt on, drank her tea and curled into a ball in the corner near the small hearth. She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them.

“Oh Naruto” she whispered through her tears, “I have made a mistake in not trying to escape and now it’s too late….. I miss you.”

She knew Itachi was not far. Just outside, likely setting traps, killing wildlife, plotting a painful death for her.

She had done the unthinkable.

She had slapped the killer of Konoha. And she had lived. Resolve firming she promised herself that she would allow no one to speak of Naruto as he had. No one.

Still, an hour stretched by and the rain and the loneliness began to wear on her. There was nothing to do really, so she stood and tried to find something to do. She cleaned around the small house, unrolled their blankets and left them neatly folded on the single bed. She had no doubts that Itachi would take the floor, if he even slept at all.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen it. His slumber. Not even while moving into Sound. She felt him before she heard him. The chakra signature rolling over her like the storm clouds above. She turned just as the door opened to reveal a soaking wet Itachi and two fat but hapless rabbits. He said nothing, but tossed them to her.

She had always been squeamish about gutting her own food, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Besides, he had turned and was heading back into the hazy gray downpour. She very nearly called out to him but she doubted he would have listened.

Sakura made herself go outside a few minutes later and clean what was to become their meal. She grimaced and looked away several times during the process but felt oddly gratified at the end that she had managed. She now wondered if she would be able to eat said dinner, knowing what it had looked like before.

She pushed sopping wet hair from her face and trudged back inside with a grimace, the ointment was wearing off. Her chakra still low. There wasn’t much left in the house, so she carefully spitted the rabbits of thick sticks and set them before the fire to roast. It wasn’t long before the scent of meat filled the room, making her mouth water.

When the meat was nearly finished, she began to wonder where Itachi had gotten to. She opened the door and stepped into the howling storm to find him. He might be a great fighter but he was equally capable of catching pneumonia out there.

She let her eyes move around the clearing, trying to catch a glimpse of him, though she suspected she never would until he was ready to let her. She walked a little further, nearing the thicker foliage. Water pelted the glossy leaves, making everything glisten darkly.

“Fool” she muttered, “He’ll catch his death of cold out here.” She chewed her lower lip trying to think of where he might be. Sasuke had always preferred high places, away from others. She imagined the elder Uchiha would be much the same and tipped her head skyward to scan the branches.

Itachi watched her for sometime. She was clearly looking for him, not that he’d let himself be found so easily. He had left the house before he did something he could possibly regret.

Like kill her… or kiss her, he wasn’t certain which was worse at the moment.

For her he had killed a fellow Akatsuki. Not that it hadn't been richly deserved. True, Kisamie had betrayed him, but Itachi knew that he had been pondering the demise of the shark ever since the night in Sakura’s room.

That was something that he could not explain. Rationally, she was under his protection until he saw fit for it to be otherwise, so that had been his initial argument.

However, he found himself questioning why he spoke to her, why he tended her wounds far more carefully than any others he’d seen. He also didn’t want to consider the dark feeling that seemed to settle in his stomach whenever she mentioned Sasuke or Naruto. It was not possible for him to be jealous, for he was as vast and empty as a dark glass.

Or he had been, until she had caused some warmth, long forgotten embers to stir. He recalled her wide eyes stare as he’d shoved her roughly to the table, pinning her with his bright eyes and his hard body. She had been shocked, but unafraid.

As though she were willing to die for the defense of the fox vessel, or that she was aware that he did not wish her death.

What did he wish for? He hadn’t wanted anything so much as to see Sasuke rise up and become a challenge to him. Now, he found that Sakura had become a challenge in herself. Brave, powerful, so alive…. So utterly lovely. And suddenly, he did wish.

He dropped to the wet ground just behind her, making no sound, hardly stirring the air, as she continued to search for him. He stepped closer, his chest nearly touching her back.

Sakura felt heat at her back and stiffened, it was then that she recognized his signature. Clearly he’d been hiding it again. She didn’t turn, feeling his proximity. Her heart raced in her ears. There was no sound other than the drumming of the rain and the soft plip plop of droplets on leaves.

“You are going to make yourself sick” she said at last, unable to bear the silence anymore. I

tachi stared down at the back of her head, “Were you worried Sakura?” he asked quietly, his voice a soft rumble behind her.

She found herself wanting to step back, just to feel his warmth in the chilled air.

She remained still and silent. Itachi lifted his hand, his dark nailed fingers barely stroking over damp tresses. The pink strands cold under his touch. She had gathered her hair atop her head, tiny tendrils curled at the nape of her slender neck.

His callused fingertips slid to those tiny corkscrews, and then to the soft skin beneath them. Sakura shivered under a rush of sensation.

His touch was gentle, his fingers warm against her flesh. He stepped forward at her reaction, his chest touching her back, fingers flitting to press against her pulse point softly.

Her life rushed there, a frantic pace. Itachi lifted his other hand to cup her chin and bring her face around to look over her shoulder at him. Wide jade eyes locked with dark. Neither speaking, neither moving. And then her eyes drifted closed of their own free will and Itachi’s face was graced with the smallest of smiles as he dipped his head.

Sakura wasn’t sure what she was thinking. Her body seemed to think for itself. She had always been attracted to the strong and Itachi was that. This wasn’t happening. His lips touched hers, warm silk to chilled velvet.

A chaste kiss, one that might shared between friends. A pressing of upper and lower lips in sequence. He kissed the corner of her mouth delicately. Then his tongue ever so slowly slid out to sweep against her lower lip, teeth following to tug.

Sakura gasped. The kiss was swiftly leaving the path of innocence and Itachi was skilled.

He used her small sound of surprise to angle his mouth over hers, his tongue barely brushing against her own. A hint of delicious friction that sent bolts of heat spiraling through her stomach to settle like smoldering embers lower.

She mewled against him as he turned her in his arms, not breaking the kiss in the least. His hands slid over her wet shoulders to find her waist and draw her closer to him. With a final sucking tug at her tongue he broke his spell, releasing her from the kiss but not his grasp.

“You have been wounded” he said softly, “You must not be out in such weather.”

Sakura merely blinked up at him, feeling dumbfounded by what had just occurred. She had kissed Itachi, or he had kissed her, but she had kissed back and she’d liked it. No one kissed her anymore. No one but him. The flash of a wide grin and blue eyes in her minds eye made her look away.

“I love him” she whispered.

Itachi stepped back, gesturing to the house. “Get inside. The traps will hold until the weather breaks. His voice once again devoid of feeling.