Prologue

Tokyo, 1:47 A.M.


Though it was dark out, the lights lit up the city as bright as day. Cars whizzed quietly by, creating a constant hum that you eventually got used to. Yes, Tokyo was a beautiful city; but it had its bad parts, too. Yumato Kurio hurried through the alleyways with a lowered head and quick, hurried gait, scolding herself the whole while. Almost two in the morning, and here she was, in one of the most dangerous areas in Tokyo, alone. She quickened her pace to a half-jogging, half-running state to reach the safety and brightness of the streets. The alleyways were dangerous, malevolent areas for the many crimes to take place in.

She yawned - pausing to shut her eyes, then wipe away the tears that gathered, which silenced her footsteps, giving her the opportunity to hear the noise behind her. She froze, her hair on ends, and slowly turned, convinced that she was going to die.

Her breath let out with a whoosh as she realized she was alone. Laughing at her silliness, Yumato once again began to walk, closer toward the street.

This time she heard it, loud and clear. Someone was behind her. She slowed her pace, her heart pounding, and, gathering bravado, spun and called, “Who’s there?”

Her answer was silence and shadows. Suddenly acutely aware of the darkness enveloping her, of the fact that if she screamed, no one might hear her, she turned and bolted, her high heeled shoes clacking loudly on the cement, her breath coming out in short, irregular gasps. She stumbled as a heel broke, falling onto her side and cursing as her hands and elbows were scraped, but scrambled to her feet and this time limped along, casting wild glances behind her as the footsteps grew closer.

“Who are you?” she cried out as she stumbled again, caught herself on the wall, and kicked off her shoe. “Leave me alone!”

It was then she saw it - him, maybe, but she couldn’t be sure - a contour - just the contour, enough to send spasms of panic racing through her system and she began to cry, feeling her way along the wall to salvation - if indeed there was one - away from this monster - and she screamed, one long, piercing shriek that reached no one’s ears but her own and that of the monster with her....



Chapter One
Part One


The permeating gloominess of an impending storm sent the majority of the population of Tokyo inside to avoid the rainfall as the sun rose, half-heartedly trying to shine its way through the pervasively gray sky, the cloud-cover spanning out and thinning over Tokyo’s skyscrapers and buildings. Water dripped from gutters, filling the sewers, making the air moist and humid and the streets wed and muddy. The trees were heavy with dripping runoff and the grass a shimmering, silvery dew. All in all, it was going to be a very miserable day but Naruto didn’t mind. He loved the rain - its unpredictable, sporadic spurts and he loved the look of the drops shimmering in the weak, dim light, bouncing chaotically and randomly on the ground. He loved the smell of the autumn rain, that peculiar smell that tickled his nostrils and made him feel alive. And the erratic thunder, the lightning - it fascinated him, it never scared him one bit, although the same could not be said of Gaara.

He did not share his half-brother’s appreciation.

He glanced at the clock; barely six in the morning. With a sigh he reached for the remote and flicked on the tiny TV perched on a dresser in the corner of the room.

“-in the east side early this morning,” a pretty, platinum blonde was reading with a wide smile filled with perfectly straight, ivory white teeth. “Police think this is the work of the same person who murdered another young woman nearly two weeks ago.”

Interest piqued, Naruto began to listen in earnest. Was she talking about another murder? He sighed. When would the crime in this city end?

“Victim is yet unidentified and police have no suspects. They will not comment any further on the matter.” The blonde paused for a second, then changed the subject and he lost interest. Something about the stock market. Lifting the remote, he pressed the power button and the TV flashed off, leaving the apartment dark and soundless.

He frowned thoughtfully. Hm. Another murder. Briefly he glanced around the tiny one-bedroom apartment that his half-brother and him shared. It was empty. It usually was in the mornings. He scowled at the mess Gaara had made - he disproved of messes, any messes, especially messes his brother made and left for him to clean up - and picked up the unfinished bowl of Ramen, tossing its soggy contents into the garbage, then tossed the bowl into the sink, where it clattered against several similar dishes.

He donned a jacket and, as an afterthought, grabbed an umbrella on the way out, just in case it decided to begin raining again. He let himself out of the apartment building and took the stairs two by two, letting himself out into the brisk, frigid early morning air. He took a deep breath of it, filling his lungs up, enjoying the escape from the stuffy, dark apartment and let it out slowly, then stepped onto the sidewalk and began to walk up the street.

There weren’t many out this morning, although there was always people out, no matter the condition of the weather, in Tokyo. He nodded and smiled at an old man ambling down the street with a plastic bag of a dozen eggs and half-jogged the rest of the way up the slight slope.

He reached the large, inconspicuous brick building before almost anyone else did. The janitor was always first, though; everyone always wondered how the old, graying man managed to get there so early and leave so late. Some spread the rumors that he lived in the closet with his mops and brooms.

He opened the side door and slipped inside the dimly lit hallway, shutting the door behind him before walking down the hall. He stopped before a door marked ‘Mr. Uzumaki, 6’ and opened it with one of the keys among many on his key chain.

The schoolroom inside was dark and empty. Whistling, he flicked on a switch as he heard the first patter of rain on the large windows adjacent the room. Teaching sixth grade certainly didn’t get a person rich, but he was happy and he liked it. As he opened the ivory colored curtains aside with a swipe of his hand he could hear the students begin to arrive, the constant bustling hum and giggled talking. He began to write the lesson of the day on the blackboard, the chalk making clacking sounds every time it came into contact with the black surface.

Students began to file into the classroom, the classic ambling and dragging the feet in an attempt to put off the beginning of the school day as long as possible. Naruto smiled and greeted several of the students who waved and said, “Good morning, Mr. Uzumaki,” before sitting at their desks.

The day passed surprisingly quickly, the promised showers throughout the day not as heavy as expected but Naruto still opened his umbrella as he left the school building. The rain pattered softly off the material, falling off the edge around him, splashing his legs when he accidentally put them out of the range of the umbrella. He adjusted the stack of papers beneath his arms and a nearby teacher laughed good-naturedly at Naruto’s struggle.

“You should get a car, Uzumaki, why don’t you,” he said, chuckling, as the fifty-ish teacher got into his own car.
Naruto waved with a smile. “No thanks, Mr. Iruki, I’m fine as I am. I enjoy walking.”

“Whatever you say, Uzumaki.” Iruki rolled up his window and drove away with a muddy splash in Naruto’s direction. The teacher decided not to go home - it was too gloomy there - and instead grade the papers at the nearby park, where there was shelter and the papers would stay dry.

By the time he reached the park, the ends of his pants and his shoes where soaking, but he didn’t mind. He set his umbrella down, set the papers in his lap, and took out a red pen, soon becoming absorbed into his work as the day wore on and the light rain gradually stopped.

It was past five when he finally finished the papers and, looking at his watch, wondered if Gaara was home yet. He didn’t know what his brother did in the day - he had no job that Naruto knew of - and he was gone some nights, too, sometimes until the early morning, sometimes not coming home at all until the next night. With a sigh he gathered the papers he’d graded and made his way home, taking longer because he was walking slowly now and there was more people out.

He reached the apartment building and looked up at the average brick building before him, the depressive, gray look that always made him wish to move to something more cheerful, but Gaara wouldn’t like that. Gaara liked it just where they were and if Gaara liked it, they were staying.

He bit his bottom lip and finally stepped up to the door, fishing awkwardly for his keys while trying to keep the papers from flying from beneath his arm, tightly clasped against him and managed to bring out the key chain, find the correct key and insert it before opening the door and letting it swing open. For a moment he stood in the doorway, staring into the gloomy, dim hall, and tried to remember if he had anything to do, if he’d forgotten anything, to postpone coming home, and nothing came to mind. He sighed again - he was sighing a lot today - and stepped in, closing the door behind him. Perhaps, if he was lucky, Gaara wasn’t home yet.

Perhaps.

Chapter One Part Two

The lights were bright within the Omega Squad’s office. Perhaps too bright - blinding - for that time of night. The air was hot, stale although not completely, utterly displeasing; there was the smell of disinfectant but it was not too strong to be bothersome. The place was quiet, too, except for the sounds of people filling past as they went from department to department within Tokyo’s 5th precinct. Every now and then there would be a young man in handcuffs paraded by the two, remaining detectives - the rest retired earlier that evening. And just as often as that a set of distressed and shame-faced parents shuffled through the maze of desks.

But it was the light that got to Sasuke. There was just something about fluorescent light - and its dead, lifeless light - that did not agree with him and inspired more than a little bit of melancholy in the detective. He tapped his pen and let it fall onto the cover of the folder the contents of which he had been sifting through for almost an hour - it was that damned, detestable light with its eerie, otherworldly humming, echoing like heavy metal within his skull - he could not take it anymore.

Detective Sakura swiveled in her chair and spoke to the absent-looking man who needed a good haircut as his black hair was forever falling into his equally black eyes, which were at the moment scrutinizing the folder’s cover as though it was an object that held an odd sort of fascination that he could not break away. “Sasuke? Earth to Sasuke?”

Sasuke Uchiha merely grunted an answer as he clicked and unclicked the pen. Annoyed, his pretty, red-haired partner snatched the pen away and shook it into his face. “Good lord, Sasuke, you’ve been like a zombie this whole evening. How much sleep did you get last night?”

“About fifteen minutes,” he replied. “I catnapped when the boss was talking.”

Sakura pursed her plain, light pink lips in a disproving manner. “Oh, Sasuke. You don’t take care of yourself. You’re going to have a nervous breakdown if you don’t.”

“You gonna eat that?” he said instead, addressing the rather soggy cup of uneaten Ramen that adorned her otherwise clean and organized desk. Slightly repulsed, she pushed it at him.

“Be my guest.”

He attacked the Ramen with gusto, forcing her to look away. “You don’t eat right, either,” she remarked, in the manner that always made the other detectives in the precinct jokingly call her ‘mother’. The two, though obviously mismatched, made good partners and they had been working together for nearly five years, all of them in which Sakura had - quite unsuccessfully - tried to fix Sasuke’s bachelor ways and unhealthy habits that often got him sick or in trouble. “By the way...” she said casually, playing with a paperclip she found on his desk, “How is the American...?”

“Still gone,” Sasuke answered with food in his mouth. He appeared not to care, but Sakura knew her partner well enough to be able to read the pain in his eyes. His latest relationship mistake involved a young American who cleaned out his bank account and left with half his stuff. Sasuke wasn’t very lucky when it came to love.

Sakura gazed at her partner detachedly. He appeared to be enraptured by the Ramen he was eating. If only he wasn’t the way he was, she thought. She disliked the word “gay” but it still didn’t change the fact that Sasuke was, in fact, not into her. Or anyone else like her. She sighed and dropped the paper clip into a cup full of pens. “You report it?”

“Nope,” he replied. She scowled.

“Sasuke, he’s not coming back.”

“I know.”

“So then why... -”

“I just like,” he interrupted her, “To give them a chance.”

Puzzled, she said nothing. He continued, setting his chopsticks down. “Not everyone in this world is good,” he said softly, “But I can’t believe that the majority of the people are purely
bad. There’s always some good in everyone, and if you just give them a chance....” He proceeded to start daydreaming, staring at his bowl of Ramen.

“Sasuke-” she began to reprimand her partner for his romantic outlook, but was interrupted by the shrill phone that rang in the otherwise silent office. She picked it up. “Detective Sakura speaking,” she clipped in a professional tone. She listened, then an uneasy frown crossed over her face. “Again?! Okay. Thanks. We’ll be there. Bye.” She wrote something down, then hung up and turned to her partner, who seemed lost in thought and had abandoned the Ramen. “We have another one.”

Sasuke, still out of it, gave her a curious look. “Another one what? What happened? What’s going on?”

She sighed with exasperation and gave him a gentle whack on the side of the head as she stood, grabbing her jacket. “Now’s not the time to be daydreaming about you-know-who, Sasuke! The boss called - it could very well be another one, Sasuke.”

“Another one what?” He looked completely stupefied. “When did the boss call? I wasn’t that out of it! I swear!”

She merely shook her head and exited the precinct and he followed suit, grabbing his own jacket to flee after her, past another one of those sickened-looking parents. “Really!” he insisted. “I wasn’t that out of it! He’s not even my type!”

The parents looked at them, hesitated, then continued on.

Chapter One Part Three

Sasuke half-parked the squad car half-on the grass and slammed his door shut after him. He noted with not much excitement - it died after maybe his third case in detective work - the flashing lights and sounds of the ambulance and the general hustle and bustle of the crime scene.

They were stopped from approaching by a stiff-looking policeman demanding to know who they were and what they were doing there. Coolly, Sakura flashed her badge and identified herself but the policeman didn’t appear satisfied until Sasuke showed his own badge and gave his name briefly. Sakura took the encounter remarkably well; it irritated her that none of the personnel seemed to believe a woman could be a detective, much less a pretty, young woman like her in police work at all. Or maybe she did nothing because she knew it would amount to nothing, it never did. In any case she was silent as Sasuke said, “We hear there’s been another murder. If you could show us the way...?”

“Oh, of course,” the still-nameless cop said politely and led the way. It was a typical street, roped off as a crime scene, and Sasuke noted the fact that he lived only twenty or so miles away. The cop led them into the alleyway, where several powerful lights had been installed to chase away the general darkness the alley harbored.

The body, surrounded by personnel, was stretched out in an awkward position, arms flung forward, her torso bent as though she’d tried to pull herself up into a fetal position but never quite made it. Sasuke and Sakura nudged their way into the crowd and gazed down at the young body. Her skirt had been yanked upward, exposing her, and her legs were spread apart in an unnatural manner.

“Female, aged 28,” a voice said behind them. “Identified as Kurio Yumato, cause of death blunt-force trauma to the head. The placement of the body is postmortem - there are several scratches on her wrists and elbows, perimortem, and a fracture on her left fibula, antimortem. We’ve already pulled her dental records.”

Sasuke turned and smiled warmly at the tall, white-haired man who’d addressed them. “Captain Kakashi,” he said. “Good to see you.”

His superior shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Yup.”

“So-” Sakura, business-minded as always, quipped. “What’s up with the latest stiff, boss?”

“Well-” Captain Kakashi’s eyes strayed over their shoulders, to the image of the woman currently being closely photographed, “We think it’s the same guy who killed the last two victims. We’ve got a serial killer on our hands, guys.”

“Again, no sign of penetration or semen,” Sakura, reading from her notes, said. “I don’t think this is a man, guys.”

“Serial killers are men, Sakura,” Sasuke stated reflexively.

Sakura shrugged, giving room for debate. “I’m just saying that there’s rarely a murder without any sign of motive such as robbery, rape, or jealousy. And her purse wasn’t ransacked, so robbery isn’t a motive.”

“Just like the last ones,” Sasuke said cynically. “But this is no woman, Sakura. Penetration or not. Look at the way she was killed. The aperture on her head was caused by one hell of a strong guy.”

“Probably a bat or something heavy and metal,” Sakura conceded. “Time of death?”

“Rigor mortis has already set in,” Captain Kakashi answered, “So I’d place it no longer than twenty-four hours. She was killed sometime in the early morning hours this morning.”

Sasuke used this excuse to glance at his watch. It was almost midnight and he stifled a sigh. No sleep tonight, either.


“Any suspects?” Sakura asked, writing all of this down in her pad, the trademarks of a detective.

“We’re investigating the family and boyfriends, current and past, and so far we’ve come up with nothing.” Kakashi shrugged. “Good family life, loving boyfriend, great job. You know.”

“Drugs? Existing medical conditions?”

“Nope, not a drug user and healthy as a horse.”

“What about tattoos?” Sasuke said suddenly. The two conversing stopped to look at him. “Never mind,” he muttered. “Just a silly question. Go on.” Sakura and Kakashi exchanged glances, then began to talk again. Bored, Sasuke wandered back to the body. The initial bustle around it had died down and Sasuke was nearly alone as he looked down at the body. “Poor thing,” he muttered beneath his breath. Barely out of college age. Even though he’d been working as a detective for nearly five years and this certainly wasn’t his first body he’d never really gotten over the feeling of - he would almost call it guilt - and wondered why humans did this to each other. Killed each other, especially the innocent young ones.

“Don’t be getting sentimental, now,” Sakura chuckled, putting on her gloves. Her young, pretty appearance belied one of Tokyo’s brightest forensic minds. Sasuke had only known a precious few with minds as keen as Sakura’s.

“I’m not,” he replied, putting on a slightly insulted face as he looked at her. “What am I, a greenhorn?”

“You might as well be, standing there and gawking. Come on; help me.” She’d bent over and was now examining the body and the areas surrounding closely. “Look at this,” she
murmured, waving her hand over the area but careful not to touch or contaminate it. “The whole temporal and sphenoid areas have been caved it. Something that did this was either mechanized or someone with the body of a bodybuilder did this. And they were pretty angry, too.”

“This almost looks like bare hands,” Sasuke murmured, and ignored the look Sakura shot at him. “Signs of strangulation?”

“None. The hyoid bone is unbroken.” Sakura used her pen to point closely at the head. “Look. No paint specks or anything on the wound, so it’s probably unpainted metal or something like that.”

Sasuke was nodding. “Looks like he came up from behind,” he said, “She realized he was there, tried running, and got it right on the head.”

“Hmm....” Sakura said. “It’s on the side. I think he caught up with her, she turned slightly or was turned and she saw it coming.” Her eyes, out of courtesy, had been closed but the muscles on her face were frozen, though the rigor mortis was beginning to fade away so the body was once again flexible, into a grimace of pure terror.

Sasuke sighed and shook his head. “I’m not liking the looks of this, Sakura.”

“Tell me about it.” If there was indeed a serial killer on their hands, it was a race against time - and he would inevitably strike again.

Chapter Two
Part One


Naruto stepped inside the hall and opted for the elevator. The stairs would creak too much. He didn’t like that; it was an obvious announcement of his arrival. Squinting in the dimness, he fumbled for the button and pushed it. A moment later he boarded; another moment passed and he landed. He set down the hall with a heavy heart. At the end of the hallway the curtain to the window was drawn and the light over the door had burnt out again. The lights never lasted long when Gaara was home. No matter how many times they were replaced, something always happened. Almost like they were sabotaged.

He could see the light shining in the crevice of the adjacent door and realized with a jolt his neighbor was probably staring at him through the peephole. Trying to appear calm and normal, he fished for his keys, careful not to upset the papers and umbrella balanced in his arms. He unlocked it and hesitated before opening it. The kanji lettering had long since been taken off, leaving only a shadow of its previous residence against the dark maduro door, the only proof of its existence.

He pushed at the handle and it jiggled. He swung it open into more darkness and he sighed, tossing his keys with a clatter on a small table aside the door, then setting the papers down and hanging the umbrella up. He made a move to slap the switch and fill the room with the artificial light he hated so much, then stopped. Gaara might be home and he didn’t like brightness.

He noticed that, coming from somewhere - its origin was not clear - a soft, glowing red light that just barely illuminated the room. “Gaara?” he called, softly, but the fact that he recieved no answer did not appease his doubts. Just because Gaara didn’t answer didn’t mean he wasn’t there. “Gaara?” he repeated, louder this time, even though he knew that if Gaara didn’t answer the first time, he wouldn’t the second.

He walked to the window and swept the curtain aside - the setting sun cast only a little light into the living room and he observed the pink and blue sunset with a smile. “Gaara, you should see this,” he murmured, half to himself, even though he knew Gaara didn’t appreciate simple things like this. Without looking down he reached for the remote and found it, where he’d left it that morning, and turned on the TV. Some stupid kid’s show was on but the news would be coming on in a few minutes. He left it on but muted it, instead staring out the window and thinking.

What would life be like, without Gaara? he thought, propping his chin on his hand. He often thought about matters like this, alone, without Gaara present. Gaara always seemed to know what he was thinking about when he was there. What would my life be like?

He jolted when he felt hands on his shoulders, his body stiffening with surprise, then relaxing as he realized there was no danger and pulled away, turning. “Gaara,” he said monotonously. “You startled me.”

His half-brother smiled maliciously at him. Gaara’s smiles were never genuine. He was a few inches taller than his fair-haired brother, his own shock of red hair often being the first thing a stranger would notice about him. The second would be his heavily blackened eyes, his blank look and frankly an overall scary appearance.

Naruto, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. His babyish look and blonde hair often made people misjudge his age, and his sweet and gullible nature made him an easy target for people looking to control him - a task Gaara accomplished with ease.

“How was your day?” Gaara said, reaching for Naruto’s hand. Naruto shrugged, noting with interest that Gaara’s shirt was ripped but he kept his mouth shut. He’d learned that what Gaara did was his own business and he didn’t like people getting too nosy.

“Same old. You?”

Gaara never answered his questions as to where he was or what he’d been doing. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Naruto and hugged him closely, nuzzling his face into his brother’s neck. “You smell like the outside,” Gaara murmured into his skin, making it tingle and he tilted his head slightly.

“Because I was outside,” he answered, and maneuvered around Gaara. “What would you like for dinner?”

Gaara chuckled dryly, yet another aspect of him he never did genuinely. “Nothing. I ate.”

“Ramen again?” Naruto noted with disproval. “Gaara...”

Gaara reached for Naruto’s face and gently brought their faces together, touching their lips lightly. Naruto stayed perfectly still, the doubts and questions arising in him, like every time Gaara did this to him, a strange lurking doubt that this wasn’t right, but Gaara said it was. And of course Gaara was right.

Gaara’s hands slid down Naruto’s arms as he deepened the kiss. When he pulled back he smiled slightly and said, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

And he left Naruto, alone in the room, in the same position as the sun lowered, so the only light was from the muted TV. He saw the platinum blonde again and frowned, suddenly remembering what he’d wanted to talk to Gaara about. Following his brother’s footsteps into the tiny bedroom that had room only for one small bed and one equally tiny dresser, he saw his brother already in bed, his clothes folded on the floor.

“...-Gaara,” he said. His brother made no indication that he was listening, or even that he was awake, but Naruto continued anyway. “Gaara, I saw something on the news today.” Again, Gaara made no move and he surged on. “It was about a young woman.... another victim killed last night,” he said. Gaara’s body tensed so slightly Naruto didn’t notice. “...I want to know-”

Gaara bolted up, startling Naruto, and gave him a glare. “You want to know where I was today? If I had anything to do with it?” he said softly, dangerously, and Naruto didn’t answer. He threw the covers off of him and got up, skirting around the bed to reach Naruto. “You think I could murder someone?” he continued. “Is that what you think of your brother, Naruto?”

“N...no,” Naruto stammered as Gaara reached for him, and would’ve stepped back, only the wall wouldn’t allow him to. “Gaara, I’m -”

“Don’t speak.” His brother’s voice was sharp, forceful. Naruto froze. “Don’t speak,” he repeated in a lower voice. “I take care of you, Naruto. I love you. Without me you would be nothing. Reduced to a vagrant on the streets, begging for meals and for charity, and you dare to assume I could have something to do with the atrocities committed in this city?”

As he was ordered, Naruto did not speak, but he whimpered as Gaara’s eyes bore into him, as his arms reached for Naruto. “Don’t be like that,” Gaara said harshly. “Don’t act like such a baby. What I do to you I do with love, Naruto, can’t you see that?” As he spoke he was undressing Naruto, lifting his shirt up and loosening his belt. “Now get to bed,” he muttered, “Before I change my mind and decide to really do something to you.”

With that he left, returning to his side of the bed, leaving Naruto half-dressed and in a state of frozen terror. When Naruto was finally able to act, it was numbly and almost robotically as he completed what Gaara had started, slipping out of his clothes and into bed next to his brother. Gaara moved aside to make room, then snuggled close, wrapping his arms around his brother and drawing him close, breathing in Naruto’s scent as Naruto closed his eyes, enveloped in Gaara’s warmth. The two fell asleep that way, in each other’s arms, until the next morning.

Chapter Two Part Two

“And this is what I love about being a detective,” Sakura announced to Sasuke as she triumphantly held up a small baggy. “We have a lead.”

“Yeah?” Interested, Sasuke looked up from his desk. It was the next day, and Yumato’s body had already been processed and the autopsy completed. The two detectives had returned to work early the next morning to pour over the folder holding the facts and pictures. “What is it?”

“A shred of clothing that isn’t from the victims,” she replied, tossing the precious artifact in front of him. “Medic Neji found it doing the autopsy, a little something we missed. It’s a no wonder, it’s so small. I’m sending it to the lab to get it analyzed.”

“Great.” Sasuke returned his attention to the book he was reading and Sakura put on a frowning, pouting look.

“Sasu!!” she scolded. “This is very important! And you just keep reading. What are you reading, anyway?” Before he could react she’d snatched the book from his hands and read the cover aloud. “ ‘A Guide to the Forensic Anthropologist and Basic Aspects’?” she raised her eyebrows. “Sasuke! What’s up?”

He grabbed it back. “I was just interested,” he muttered, shutting the book, putting it into a drawer and slamming the drawer shut. Sakura sat down.

“You know,” she remarked, pushing her chair back and straddling it, the favorite way of sitting in the precinct, “You’ve changed, Sasuke.”

“I have?” he glanced up. “How’s that?”

“Eh, just little things.” She picked up the bag of evidence. “Anyway, I’m sending this to lab. Want to come?”

“Nah,” he answered.

“Okay, it’ll be ready in a few hours.”

With that, he absorbed his attention into his book and before he knew it, Sakura had returned with the bag and a lab report. “We got it!” she sang, waving it around. “Lab says it’s a funky cotton, really light, meant for warm climates, like jungles. I’ve come up with a list of stores that sell it.”

“That’s good,” he answered, putting away his book. “So now what?”

“Now we go and interrogate the poor bastards.” She grinned. “We’re onto something, Sasuke, I can feel it!”

Almost an hour later, they arrived at the first of the stores on Sakura’s list. It was in the slums, a rundown store with dirt and dust and, understandably, empty of customers. Sasuke opened the door cautiously and, above, a bell tinkled. “Hello?” he called, stepping into the dim and dusty shop. “Is anyone here?”

“Eh?” An old, white haired man ambled out of a room in the back. “Is that customers?”

“No.” Sasuke flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Sasuke, and this is my partner, Detective Sakura. We’re here to ask you some questions.”

“Yeah?” the old man squinted at them. “What kinda questions?”

“You sell shirts here?”

“Yeah,” the old man replied. “I’m Orinaka, by the way.”

“I see. Well, Mr. Orinaka, what kind of shirts do you sell?”

“Come. Come see.” The old man led the way into his shop, where more dusty and rather moldy clothes were on hangars and folded.

“Anything cotton?” Sasuke asked, checking out a few of the shirts.

“Yeah, yeah, these.” The old man held up a shirt and Sasuke glanced at Sakura. She shrugged, then nodded, and Sasuke tossed some money at the old man.

“Keep the change,” he said, and took the shirt.

Chapter Two Part Three

Naruto had already returned from school that day, and it was with a little relief (but he wouldn’t admit it to himself) that he realized Gaara was gone. He graded the papers and did his work quickly, skimming over the answers and probably getting a few wrong himself.

When he was finished, he pushed away the paperwork and sat back in his chair with a sigh. The small apartment was, as usual, cloaked in darkness, one of the many aspects of Gaara he disliked so much, but of course there was nothing he could do about it. Gaara was Gaara. He flipped on the tiny television and turned on the news channel, turning the volume down low so he could hear easily over it.

This time the platinum blonde, whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember, was gone, replaced by a young man who had to be wearing a toupee, his hair looked so perfect. Not a strand out of place. Naruto turned the volume up and, as he did, a picture of a pretty, smiling young woman flashed across the screen.

“Yumato Kurio, aged 28, was found murdered early Tuesday morning in an alleyway on Tokyo’s east side. Her family has been contacted but, as of yet, police have no leads as to who the suspect is. If you have any information at all, police ask you to call this number at the bottom of the screen.” Subsequently, a number appeared, in big bold letters, beneath the newsman, and Naruto gazed at it. East side. He lived in East side. And Gaara’s shirt was ripped -

He startled himself by suddenly slamming the remote with his fist, suddenly plunging the room into a dimness as the TV switched to the dark blue screen for the VCR. The silence was sudden and deafening, and he breathed deeply in the darkness.

What had he been thinking? Gaara’s shirt was ripped? So what? It didn’t mean that Gaara, his Gaara, his dear brother of whom he would be nothing without had anything - anything at all - the least little thing - to do with this murder and the speckle of others occurring, always in or around East Side, always when Gaara was gone and always when Naruto didn’t know where he was, at night or when he was gone.

“No,” he said sharply in the silence. Why had all these doubts suddenly surfaced, only with these past few murders that he found himself wondering what Gaara was capable of? Trembling slightly, he reached for the remote and switched it back to the TV. More pictures, more smiling young women, were on the screen. He counted. Five. Five girls, five young women, murdered within the past two months. All in the East Side. All when Gaara was gone.

His hands tightened into fists and he muttered aloud, “Gaara is my brother. Gaara is my life. Gaara is my love,” uttering the mantras as though pleading for his life, as though he was desperately trying - and failing - to convince himself.

He continued repeating, over and over, the words, staring at all the girls, then at the police - the name beneath it read Captain Kakashi - as he was interviewed about the latest murders. He repeated them again and again, and when he finally stopped, for lack of air, the news had gone onto a silly commercial for children and he hurriedly shut it off.

“So many, Gaara...” he murmured to himself. “So many...”

He knew little about Gaara himself, even though they were half-brothers and had been together nearly - nearly - the better halves of their lives. He knew only the sketchy details of Gaara’s institutionalized period, when he had been tranquilized and brought to a mad house strapped to a gurney and screaming profanities. Gaara had an anger problem, that he knew, although he himself had never witnessed an actual attack - when Gaara got angry with him, he never hurt him. Never hit him. He could not; it was not in his psyche. Naruto was, after all, his brother, his flesh and blood, and he made sure that Naruto was aware of that, that the special bond they shared could not be broken.

Naruto had only been eleven when his fourteen-year-old brother was sent off to the institution - he was never told that the reason why was that Gaara had stabbed his father. As he lay bleeding on the floor, Gaara laughing at his side, his mother had tranquilized him with a sleeping substance she often took herself. It was then Gaara was sent away, and their mother carried the secret to her grave, never telling the unsuspecting Naruto.

Three years later, Gaara came back home. Their mother never lived to see the event. She died of breast cancer just before the seventeen year old Gaara arrived, and he made it his job to take care of his brother, now fourteen.

It was then, then, when Gaara had started taking care of him, when their mother was dead and they were all alone, that it started. Gaara had begun to kiss him, to tell him that as brothers, this kind of bond was fitting and there was nothing wrong. On some nights, especially when he angered Gaara, he took Naruto. Naruto, deprived of healthy relationships by his controlling brother, had never before gone through anything like it and Gaara quickly used it to control him, frightening him into submission by threatening to do something similar if Naruto disobeyed him. And, as they grew up, Naruto went to college and eventually became a sixth-grade teacher, he never once disobeyed Gaara.

And now, sitting in the small apartment, staring into the darkness, recalling all of this, something surfaced in his mind that never before dared to surface. What if he... disobeyed Gaara? What if he called the number, the number he’d stared at, at the police station, just leave a little anonymous tip, just enough to point toward his brother? Just a few, little words, enough to get his brother - his brother... his life - his love -

He reached for the phone, his fingers trembling openly, and touched the phone. Touched. He still recalled the number - it was fresh in his mind - all he had to do was call -

His fingers began to curl around the phone, to push the talk button, but then he froze as it rang, the shrill noise filling the apartment and his senses - it rang -

Chapter Two Part Four

“Last one.” Sakura parallel-parked the squad car outside of a small but clean-looking shop, right in the middle of East Tokyo, a small store called in calligraphic letters ‘The Treasure Box’. They had spent the whole day tracking down the stores, looking for that particular fabric, and when they found it sent it back to the lab for analysis, to see if the fabrics matched, but so far had been unlucky.

“And if this isn’t it?” Sasuke asked cryptically, earning a disproving look from his partner.

“Sasuke, don’t be so negative. We’ll catch this guy. We’d better,” she added grimly, and scaled the few concrete steps, opening the door. A bell tinkled above and Sasuke immediately entered, looking around, going through the racks as though looking for something hidden.

“Be right there,” a voice called and a young man, his black hair greasy, his face riddled with pimples, came out and leaned on the counter. “Can I help ya?”

“Yeah,” Sakura said as Sasuke continued to go through the racks, ignoring the teen. “I’m Detective Sakura, and that-” she sent a glare at her partner for good measure - “Is Detective Sasuke. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Detectives, huh?” the kid said, popping a bubble with a giant wad of gum in his mouth. Sakura stifled an annoyed sigh. “Is this about all those chicks gettin’ popped around here?”

“What do you know about that?” Sakura asked, returning her badge she’d shown to her pocket. The kid shrugged.

“Nothin’. Word just gets around, is all.” He glanced at Sasuke: “Yo, you gonna buy something there, man?”

Sasuke gave no answer, so Sakura did. “We’re looking for a certain type of fabric, we hear your store sells it?”

“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t,” the kid replied cautiously. “Depends on what you’re looking at.”

Sakura dangled the evidence bag with its contents in front of his nose, and his eyes followed it. “Huh,” he muttered, staring at the black cotton material, “I think we got something like that.” He walked down the counter, out a little service door, and began to ruffle, side by side of Sasuke, in the racks. “Um...” he continued to look, “I know, I sold something like this to a weirdo dude who came in here a while ago...” he froze, his scrawny body tensing and Sasuke thought he could beat the kid up easily. He looked up at Sasuke and he was surprised to see terror in his pimple-dotted face. “You don’t think that that coulda been the guy who...?” he whispered.

“Just get the shirt, kid,” Sasuke growled, speaking for the first time, and his look spurred the teen into action. He went through that rack, then the next one, with a frenzy. Sasuke raised his eyebrows and grinned at Sakura, who shrugged.

“Here! Here! Here it is!” The teen triumphantly waved a black shirt and Sasuke snatched it from him in midair, running his thumb over the material before exchanging glances with his partner, who in turn did the same, running her thumb over the shirt.

“Light enough,” Sasuke said. Sakura nodded. “Same color,” he said, comparing the material to the scrap in the evidence bag. Again his partner nodded. They looked up at the kid, who was obviously waiting for a scoop. “Thanks, dude,” Sasuke said, gesturing with the shirt, and walked out.

“H-hey!” the teen called. “Are you gonna buy that, or what?”

“Oh-” Sakura turned. “We’ll need a copy of your inventory, of everyone you sold this particular shirt to within the past four months, at least.”

“Uh, sure.” He returned to behind the counter and took out a binder, unclipping several pages and going through the list. He wrote down the names that bought that shirt and handed the paper to her with a, “Is your partner always like that?”

“You were lucky,” she replied, and left to follow Sasuke out.

Chapter Three
Part One

The phone rang - again, again - and a hand darted out to pick it up. “Detective Sakura,” a clipped voice said.

“Sakura.” The detective smiled at hearing her boss’ voice. “We’ve checked out the alibis to everyone you’ve interviewed - most of them are solid, and the ones that aren’t are being investigated. You’ve got more, haven’t you?”

“Yup,” she said, swiveling in her chair to get the list of addresses and sending a look of pure evil at her snoozing partner. “Three, to be exact.”

“Okay.” She heard a distinctively sharp noise over the phone, like someone falling back into a reclining chair and the captain sighed.

“We’ll catch the prick, Captain,” she said.

“Yeah... that I don’t doubt. It’s just that dealing with these damned reporters puts me on edge.”

“Tell ’em the killer’s a woman,” Sasuke, who could hear the voice of the captain carrying over the receiver, mumbled into his arms.

Sakura, surprised, turned to him. “What?”

He spoke louder, for the benefit of the captain. “Tell ’em the killer’s a woman,” he said. “Either that, or a man who can’t sustain an erection.”

“Why’s that, Sasuke?” Kakashi asked his detective. Sasuke yawned.

“All these murders in the East Side, the ones that we think are connected, you know,” he said, stretching, “there’s no sign of any sexual force at all. No penetration, no semen, no
nothing. I think this killer wants our limelight.”

Kakashi was sufficiently impressed. “You gotta reason for that, Sasuke?” he asked, reclining in his leather chair, the sound carrying over sharply.

“Sure.” Sasuke flipped open the vanilla folder containing the specifics of the case. “Victims are dead, no motive. No rape, no robbery, nothing. Rage, maybe? Anyway...-” he shrugged, “If I’m right, and the killer’s a woman, we get leads. If I’m wrong and it’s a man, it’ll be such a blow to his ego he’ll have to come forward.”

“And we’ve got the sons of bitches,” Kakashi murmured, following along perfectly. “Huh. Nice job, detective. I think I’m actually looking forward to feeding the hounds today.” With that, there was a loud click, and the captain disconnected the phone.

Sakura set the phone down into the cradle and sent a look that Sasuke couldn’t decipher over at him. “A woman?” she repeated. “We’ve had this little discussion before, remember? I was the one who said it wasn’t a man and you were adamant about it.”

“I changed my mind,” Sasuke replied. “Anyway, we’ll find out soon. We just gotta track down these last few names and we’ll have her. Or him.”

“Sure,” Sakura replied in such a dubious tone of voice Sasuke raised his eyebrows at her.

“Doubts, detective?”

“Doubts in you,” she shot back. Chuckling, shaking his head, Sasuke opened his drawer and, from underneath his book, took out a detailed map of East Tokyo. On it were fifteen markers of three colors; black, white and red.

“Okay,” Sasuke said, gesturing toward the map. “Five girls, all above the age of eighteen so far, have been killed by what we believe is the same guy.” Sakura nodded, concurring. “The black represents where they live; the white, where they worked; and the red, where they were found dead.”

Sakura stared at the dots. “They are all around. There’s no visible pattern at all. The killer is probably choosing random victims in a hasty decision and killing them there.”

“Ah,” Sasuke held up a finger, “But I realized this.” He drew an imaginary line along the red dots. “Look. The red dots form a line. Not a very straight line, but a line nonetheless.” He tapped his finger on the line, the imaginary line. “I think the killer knows this area well. He isn’t school age, because he has time to be transferring across town, but he doesn’t want to kill his victims in some unknown, unfamiliar area where he could easily be interrupted. Since there is no visible pattern or connection to the victims, the higher-ups won’t allow us to patrol any of the areas on here because we believe it’s random. But we can patrol this red line.” To emphasize, he tapped it again.

Sakura nodded. “So know we know where he kills - we just don’t know why, or who he is.”

“But if we keep an eye on this line, we’re sure to catch him,” Sasuke murmured, staring thoughtfully at the black dots.

Chapter Three Part Two

“Hello?” Naruto’s voice was high-pitched, shaky, and he cleared his throat. “Hello?”

Silence. Relieved, Naruto’s finger moved to hang it up - and then he heard heavy breathing. Trembling, he repeated, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Naruto?” Relief flooded through him as he recognized the voice.

“Mr. Iruka?” he said, his voice revealing how scared he’d been, and he cleared his throat again. “Mr. Iruka, is that you?”

“Sorry, Naruto,” the older teacher said, and hacked. “I was walking and got out of breath. Anyway, I just wanted to remind you about the conferences on Saturday.”

“Oh, yes,” Naruto said. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Mr. Iruka!”

“Goodbye, Naruto,” the teacher replied, and then, “Take care of yourself, hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Naruto replied. Iruka hung up and Naruto let the phone fall into his lap, taking several deep breaths. Don’t be ridiculous, he scolded himself. Gaara doesn’t even own a cell
phone, so what are you so frightened of?

But even as he told himself that, a tiny voice said, he doesn’t own a phone that you know of. Naruto hung up the phone, then grabbed it and put it in a drawer, closing it shut, as though resisting the temptation of calling the police. He forced himself to relax, telling himself that all of this excitement was going to be the death of him one day, that -

He was interrupted by a pounding of the door. He jumped, then got up and peered through the peephole, calling, “Who’s there?”

Two people, a male and a female, were waiting. They looked a little older than him, and the male had long black hair falling into his slightly annoyed black eyes. The woman had pretty red hair, and she was the one who spoke. “We are detectives from the police department,” she called. “Open up. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Naruto backed away from the peephole, his heart racing. Detectives? his mind shouted. Coming for Gaara? Desperately he looked around. There was no escape; he was three stories high and if he jumped, it would be the end of him. And Gaara... he had to open the door. They were pounding on it again.

“We’d just like to ask some questions,” the woman called again. “That’s all. Please open up.”

Questions? “About what,” he called cautiously. There was a pregnant pause.

“An investigation,” came the brief, uninformative reply. Then, the male’s voice: “Are you gonna open up, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, hold on.” He quickly shot back the deadbolt that was in place, taking several deep breaths as he did so, then opened the door. “Come in, I guess,” he said reluctantly. He didn’t know when Gaara was going to be home and if he returned while these policemen were here....

The woman entered first, casting a brief look around the humble little apartment, and held her badge ready for Naruto to see. “I’m Detective Sakura, and this is Detective Sasuke,” she greeted, standing aside for her partner - still with that insolent look - to walk in beside her. “We’re sorry to barge on you like this, but if we could just ask you a few simple questions we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was nothing he wanted more than for them to be on their way. “Please come in.” He hoped that his nervousness wasn’t as apparent as he felt it was. He led the way into the tiny living room and invited them to sit down. Only the woman did. “So, ah--” he forced himself to put his hands in his pockets, he was wringing them too much - “How can I help you?”

The woman - Detective Sakura - opened her mouth but before she could speak her partner interrupted her. “What took you so long to answer the door?” he asked directly, rather rudely, and made a point of looking around. “Are you hiding anything? Doing anything illegal? Any drugs?”

“No!” It came out too quick, too forcefully, and Naruto wet his lips. “Of course not,” he snapped, adopting an insulted tone. “I could have you thrown out-”

“No, it’s all right.” The woman sent the man a reproachful look and smiled, embarrassed, at Naruto. “I’m sorry. My partner’s been on-edge as of late. He apologizes.” Her partner grunted, if of assent or disagreement Naruto didn’t know, but at least he was silent. “Have you ever been to a little store about fifteen or so miles from here, a little store called the Treasure Box?” Detective Sakura asked in a clipped business tone.

Naruto hesitated. “Can I ask why?”

“We have evidence that you bought a shirt from that store that may have a connection to a possible homicide case.”

In a flash he thought of Gaara, of his ripped black shirt. “I don’t know,” he said cautiously. “I can’t remember. I might have.”

“Do you need help remembering?” Sasuke held out several bills. Disgusted and rather shame-facedly, Sakura snatched the bills out of his hand and stuffed them in her pocket with a startled, indignant tone: “Sasuke!”

Naruto blinked. These two detectives were almost humorous, in a way. But he was far too nervous and scared to be in the mood for laughing. The woman - Sakura - turned back to him.
“If you could please answer the question,” she said as politely as she could.

Naruto quickly calculated in his head. Gaara could’ve gone to the store, bought it, and used his name. If he said he bought it, they might go away. But what if they asked to see it? He remembered he’d put it in the wash, with his and Gaara’s other clothes, but it was ripped. Maybe that was a significant fact. But what if he lied, if he said he’d never gone there? They said they had proof - the correct word was ‘evidence’ but he pretty much figured that it meant the same thing - they had proof he’d bought the shirt. If it was by eyewitness account only, the eyewitness could’ve said that a redheaded man bought it, thus he’d be lying and they would know it - but if it was proof, like a receipt, or an inventory, then it’d be proof that someone using his name bought it but it didn’t necessarily mean him -

Sasuke cleared his throat. Naruto blinked rapidly, his eyes coming into focus, and realized they’d been waiting for his answer. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and, without making eye contact, said, “Uh, yeah, I might’ve bought it. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did. I did.”

“What day?” Sakura asked, consulting her notes.

Naruto felt as though his heart had stopped beating. He worked his mouth, then managed, “I don’t remember. With...” he paused. “Within the last two weeks, maybe?”

“Where is it?” Sasuke asked. Again, Naruto was shocked and he fought for an answer.

“I don’t know,” he answered, at last. “I haven’t seen it. I think.... I think it may have uh, it may’ve been stolen or something.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and repeated, “Or something.”

The detectives were silent, the woman writing this down and the man casting his inquisitive, ever scornful glance about the room. Sakura paused, then asked, “Where were you last Tuesday, between the hours of midnight and four in the morning?”

“Here,” Naruto answered - truthfully, for once.

“Anyone who can second that?” Sasuke said.

Naruto thought of his brother but was silent. He shook his head. “No.” Sakura wrote this down, then flipped her pad of paper close and tucked it into her pocket. “Well,” she said, “Thank you very much for your time. We’ll be going now.”

“Okay.” Almost eagerly Naruto opened the door and closed it after them, dead bolting the door shut and checking twice to see if he’d bolted it shut and, thus reassured, slowly made his way to the couch - where he’d sat being interrogated - and slowly sat down. “That was close,” he whispered aloud. He was thankful Gaara hadn’t come home - but, his mind argued, his brother didn’t have anything to do with those murders. He couldn’t have. Gaara was - well, Gaara had his faults, as everyone did, but Gaara was incapable of murder and Naruto told himself that, firmly. But he sure had a hard time believing it.

He got up, got out a pan, thinking he’d make dinner and put Gaara’s portion into the fridge until he came home. What Gaara had said that night - nothing, he already ate - surfaced in his mind but he brushed it away. He liked taking care of Gaara, doing the little things like food and laundry, even if his brother didn’t seem to notice.

A light knock sounded on the door and he almost dropped the pan. Setting it down carefully, he went to the door and peeked through the peephole. He bit off a curse. The detective - the male one, Sasuke - was back. He unlocked the door and opened it an inch. “Can I help you?” he said in a tone of voice that he hoped conveyed his annoyance.

“Yeah.” Sasuke awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets, not meeting Naruto’s eyes, a nearly completely different picture than the nosy, imposing detective Naruto had seen. The two stood in silence, then Sasuke finally said, “Look. I wanted to apologize - for the way I acted, you know, back there. I was a bit rude.”

Naruto nodded. “Yeah.” The detective looked a little taken aback that he’d agreed so readily, then shrugged.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he repeated. “I was really rude. Can I make it up to you?”

Naruto didn’t answer, unsure of what the detective meant, cocking an eyebrow slightly in puzzlement. Sasuke sighed, then elaborated.

“Would you like to go out for an American coffee, or something?” he asked, then quickly, “Or tea, if you’d prefer.”

Naruto hesitated, glancing behind him. Gaara could come home. But then if he refused, would the cop get nosy again? He didn’t want to take that chance but then, he’d be taking the chance that he could slip up and say something stupid. Again, he looked over his shoulder, at the dark and depressing apartment, and decided what the hell. “I guess,” he said reluctantly.

“Good.” Sasuke smiled slightly. Naruto grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him. “Where do you want to go?” Sasuke asked, standing back. Naruto thought.

“Anywhere, it doesn’t matter,” he answered. He just wanted it done and over with.

They walked - that part Naruto enjoyed - to a nearby cafe, taking a small booth and ordering two coffees. Naruto stirred a cube of sugar into his and Sasuke took it black. Sasuke glanced interestedly at the young blonde man as he absentmindedly stirred his coffee.

To start conversation, he asked, “What do you do for a living?”

Naruto glanced up. “I teach sixth grade.”

“Oh.” A slightly uncomfortable silence reigned, and Sasuke strove to break it. “You already know what I do,” he said, almost guiltily, and Naruto nodded with a small smile. Sasuke took
a sip of his coffee and gazed with interest at the other man. “You’re a teacher, huh?” he said at last.

“Yeah.” Naruto offered him the slightest of smiles. “Not a very exciting job, though. You know -- like yours.”

Sasuke shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s filled with as much paperwork, boringness, and disappointment as it is excitement.”

“I suppose,” Naruto replied softly, again stirring his coffee, then taking a tentative sip and wincing. “It’s hot,” he said, and Sasuke chuckled.

“Yeah.” He thought about what to talk about - anything - this silence was eating away at him and he wanted it to end. He wanted to see the timid man before him laughing and talking naturally, because something about him reminded the detective of a scared, lost puppy. “Do you live alone?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too much like what he was trying to find out: are you single?

Naruto glanced up and looked at a loss to answer. “No,” he answered. Sasuke was surprised; when he’d looked in the apartment earlier, there was no obvious signs of two people living there: he’d seen one bed, one toothbrush, one of everything that would normally be two if he was living with someone. Sasuke discreetly stole a look at his hand. Well, he wasn’t married.
“But he comes and goes,” Naruto added, and that solved a lot.

“Not a permanent resident?” Sasuke inquired, and when Naruto nodded, thought: a lover perhaps, that leaves frequently due to fights? The teacher was looking a bit uncomfortable, so he decided not to delve into personal affairs.

“Why did you do this?” Naruto asked suddenly, startling the detective. “I mean, why did you...” He trailed off.

“Bring you here?” Sasuke finished for him, and Naruto nodded. “Because,” he said, “I think I insulted you and I wanted to apologize, is all.” When Naruto was silent he said back and viewed him. There’s something he’s not telling me, he decided, about the case. About the shirt he said he bought. He was - and is - acting far too... his eyes narrowed. Like he’s hiding something. His cop mind was keen - too keen - and when something didn’t add up -

Naruto was becoming acutely aware of the silence they’d lapsed into and the look the detective was giving him - like he was trying to peer into his soul or something - made him feel jittery and nervous. Abruptly, he blurted, “Are you two married?”

Sasuke blinked. “Huh?” Then, realizing what he’d said: “Who, Sakura and I?” When Naruto nodded he began to laugh, so loudly and suddenly it startled people several booths away; he wiped tears from his eyes and chuckled, “I’m really sorry. It’s just... that concept...” he shook his head and let out a last laugh. “No, we’re not. We’re just partners. She and I...” he sought for a word to describe it, “...different.”

“Different how?” Naruto asked curiously.

“Uh...” Sasuke wasn’t sure if he should beat around the bush or be forward. “I’m uh, not her type. I...” he clasped his hands together and shrugged. Somehow Naruto got the message.

“You’re gay?” he said bluntly. Sasuke blinked; he certainly hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “I am.” He carefully watched Naruto as he said this; but the younger man exhibited nothing, no reaction, and Sasuke figured he must be fine with it - either that, or gay himself. He took a sip of his still-full coffee, now gone cold, and frowned into his cup. “It’s cold,” he said.

“So’s mine.” Naruto hadn’t touched his coffee at all.

Sasuke scowled ever so slightly. Actually, he’d been intending to find out more about the behavior of this man, of why he’d acted so curiously when questioned, but he didn’t think it
would be a very good idea now, because Naruto looked so - well, so terrified. He’d only began to relax after the subject had gotten on light, irrelevant things. Deciding to be blunt, he said, “We should probably get going, but I’d like to see you again.”

Naruto, off-guard, stared at the detective. Finally he shrugged slightly. “Sure,” he answered. “Okay.”

Sasuke called for the check, hiding his smile.

Chapter Three Part Three

Gaara scowled angrily as he ran. How dare that man, he thought furiously, to dream he could lay a hand on Naruto? He’d stood outside, watching their exchange of animated conversation with growing anger, and finally took off. He didn’t come home that night, or the next day either, but he knew his brother was worried about him. It was the next night and he still hadn’t gotten over his anger over the two detectives. The fact that he wasn’t in jail yet didn’t phase him a bit - of course Naruto would lie for him, he was his brother, it was only natural - he skirted down an alley and slowed, abruptly, seeing a woman walking, hurried, in the alley and his instincts kicked in. He half-crouched, melting with the shadows as she neared, her head down, her black hair bouncing with every step. At the last moment he stepped out into the light and she saw him, screamed - once, long and loud - he jumped for her, missed, as she had stepped backward in a movement that saved her life - she screamed again, a long, insistent, high-pitched tone that hurt his ears and he grabbed at her again. This time she ran, still intermittently screaming, and he cursed - she was too loud, too noisy, people would hear - and took off after her, cursing himself for his stupidity, now he would be caught. His outstretched fingers snagged a lock of her hair and his fingers clamped down, emitting a shriek of pain from her, halting her flight for a few precious seconds - but that was all he needed and he swiftly closed in on her, one of his hands reaching for her neck -

And then he heard the police sirens. His fingers had already latched onto her neck, her eyes were bulging, but he knew he wouldn’t have enough time to kill her and grabbed her head, twisting it sharply until there was a loud, satisfying crack and she crumpled in his arms.

He let her drop to the cement with a thud and took off as squad cars roared into the alley, his feet slapping on the pavement. Lights flooded in, locking him in, and someone shouted over a speakerphone: “Police! Halt!” Which of course he didn’t, and risked a glance behind him. The alley was narrow - too narrow for the cars to follow - but one of the more brave officers was following him. He snarled as he realized it was the detective - the girl detective - who had questioned his brother that day and anger filled him, overpowering his senses, and he swung around, out of the light, far enough away. The woman halted, her gun out. “Freeze!” she shouted, and Gaara smiled. It was a malicious, hate filled smile that made her blood run cold.

This is it, Sakura thought as she trained her gun on the very angry man before her. This is the man we’ve been looking for. She knew that the girl he’d tried to kill was dead. She could see it immediately from the way her head was bent, her neck grotesquely twisted. This was no one to be played with lightly. She readjusted her grip on her gun, hoping that Sasuke had enough sense to cover her - she didn’t even think he knew she was gone - but the instant her fingers acquired an uncertain grip on the gun, for that split second as she grasped it firmer, he struck, so fast she almost never saw it coming, and fired her gun at the last possible moment as his hands came at her. Her last vision was that of blood and her last thought was that of satisfaction, that she’d hit him, before his hand smashed into her face, palm upward, driving the bridge of her nose into her brain and she died instantly.

Sasuke - and everyone else at the scene - was startled at the sound of a gunshot and looked for Sakura. When he realized Sakura was gone he bolted, uncaring of the crime scene, down the alley, running wildly down the alley until he saw a body - his heart skipped a beat - and he raised his gun and shot at but missed the retreating figure in the shadows, then knelt by the body and swore. Sakura’s face was awash with blood, her nose grotesquely driven back, and he reached down with trembling fingers to feel her pulse, already knowing what he’d find. He sat back, putting a shaking hand to his mouth, then shouted for a medic and fast, goddammit.

Chapter Three Part Four
Warning: Major lemons

Naruto, unaware of the events going on with his brother, had gone to bed early but was woken - for once - by Gaara coming home. Normally he never woke up, Gaara was so silent, but this time he had a strange gait and stumbled several times heavily, causing Naruto to awake.

He found Gaara in the bathroom with a red rag, red water and red shirt - he rushed forward, placing his hands on Gaara and they came away red - he gasped, “Gaara! Gaara, what happened? Are you all right?”

Gaara pushed him away insolently, snapping, “Go back to bed, Naruto, it’s only a scratch,” but his brother had the gall to shake his head, grab another rag and dab it on Gaara’s ‘scratch’ - Gaara grabbed him by the arms, smearing him with blood, and said angrily, “I said go to bed. Did you not understand me, Naruto? Or maybe you just don’t care?”

Naruto, startled into silence, shook his head slightly, the rag, wet with blood, clasped tightly in his fist. Gaara’s scowl deepened and his eyes had an ugly look. “You care about me, don’t you?” he said softly, and waited for Naruto’s little nod before continuing, “You love me, right?” Again Naruto nodded and Gaara shouted, making Naruto jump in his arms, “Then get to bed!”

Naruto bolted, the rag still in his hands, and slammed the door after him. Gaara calmly picked up the washcloth and began to clean up the wound where Sakura’s bullet hit him. Thankfully it had only scratched him, just barely missed his arm, but it still was painful as hell and there was blood everywhere. He really hoped that he’d gotten none of the blood on the woman or the surrounding areas. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he rewet the washcloth, causing a red pool in the sink. If they tried DNA testing, he could disappear and the blame would fall on Naruto, the one closest to matching the DNA. He was, after all, a suspect and hadn’t told the police about him - Gaara stopped what he was doing and glanced sharply toward the door. Or had he? He set the rag down and opened the door. Naruto’s body made a trembling bulk in the bed. Gaara sat next to him on the bed and put an arm - his uninjured one - on Naruto’s waist. He felt his brother’s body stiffen beneath the thin comforter. Remembering certain nights, certain incidents, some years ago and some recent, Gaara allowed himself a small smile as he carressed Naruto’s slim waist through the thin sheets. He felt the small body beneath him tremor. He remembered salty tears mixed with blood as he inflicted both pain and pleasure upon the man of whom he had complete and unconditional control over. Tonight, he told himself, tonight I will get my answers and with them, pleasure. His hand, seemingly petting with random became purposeful and sensuous and he could feel a shudder resonate through his hand as it traveled through the lean body. With one flick of his wrist he flung the flimsy sheet aside - what little protection it provided - and observed Naruto, trembling and vulnerable, curled into the fetal position, invitingly below him. He bent over the little body and gently, with unnerving tenderness, kissed the pale cheek that twitched at his slightest touch; then he was twisting Naruto’s head around so that the large, tear-filled blue eyes were staring into his own red ones, his eyes of both a blankness and an anticipation of pleasure and pain that made Naruto cringe as he saw the meaning in those eyes. “No,” he said then, his voice coming out low and trembling, but loud in the silence. “This is wrong, Gaara.” At which Gaara tensed visibly; he repeated: “Wrong?”

Naruto stiffened beneath him, sensing the anger he’d arisin in his brother. “Wrong?” Gaara repeated again. “No, Naruto, there you’re wrong. There is nothing - nothing - wrong about this, nothing whatsoever.” He looked down at the small and trembling body, so vulnerable, so yielding. “We are brothers,” he continued, “What better bond is that? We are blood, you and I, and we belong to each other. No, Naruto, this is right. More right than anything else in this world.” And when Naruto flinched at Gaara’s slight smile, Gaara chuckled, and the throaty laugh conveyed his intentions.

He brought their lips together, his hands cupping the pale flesh of Naruto’s cheeks, and as he deepened the kiss, bruising Naruto’s vulnerable lips, he forced his tongue into Naruto’s mouth, into the wetness that lay beyond Naruto’s clenched teeth; he tightened his grip on Naruto’s jaw and with a whimper of pain Naruto opened his mouth, allowing access to Gaara; his tongue slid hotly into Naruto and the body beneath him made a small whimper of protest around the invading, yet not completely unwanted, object. He bit down hard on the tongue and Naruto’s scream came muffled and he gagged as blood backtracked down his throat. Gaara pulled back and allowed Naruto to roll on his side, hacking up the blood that had almost suffocated him. The off-white sheets beneath him became a splattered pattern of crimson droplets as he coughed.

He smiled grimly as Naruto drew in a deep, ragged breath. “You act so new at this, little brother, though you’re not.” Naruto said nothing beneath him. “In a way it’s a turn-on,” he whispered throatily to him. “How many times have we done this, you and I, and you still manage to maintain whatever shred of innocence you have left.” He saw Naruto shudder, ever so slightly, just enough to pass the average person’s gaze but not Gaara’s sharp eyes. Maybe, he thought a bit distractedly, pain is not something you can get used to so easily.

As though reminded of the task before him, he bent down, bending his arms at the elbows to control his elevation above the unyeilding body. He kissed Naruto’s neck, then bit down hard, his sharp inscisors breaking the skin and Naruto let out a small cry as tiny rivulets of blood trailed down his shoulder and onto his chest as a sob convulsed him and he unwillingly arched his back, burying Gaara’s teeth further into his skin; again he let out a strangled sound of pain as Gaara disengaged his teeth from the skin. He kissed the trail of blood, creating smears and shockingly red lips against his pale skin as he left butterfly kisses over Naruto’s stomach. There was traces of his own blood smeared on Naruto’s arms, and the sight of the dark crimson liquid served only to make Gaara more excited.

He wrapped his fingers around Naruto’s engorged shaft and manipulated it, working his fingers expertly and as he did so, Naruto let out an unbidden moan as his mind rejected his brother’s actions but his body, betraying him, welcomed it. As Naruto grew under Gaara’s fondling he whispered: “Naruto.” Naruto did not answer and instead let out a tiny whimper. “Naruto,” Gaara continued, his voice soft, gentle, coaxing. “I need to know something.” He could sense that Naruto was listening, even if he could not muster the strength to answer; as his fingers became soaked with precome he said, “I need to know about those two detectives you spoke with.”

Even as Naruto stiffened Gaara’s grip tightened, causing a gasp, part surprise, part pleasure, and part unexpected pain. “Tell me, little brother,” he said as he became violent, his actions growing fast and rough. “Did you tell the detectives about me?”

“Aaaagh!” Naruto cried out as Gaara cupped his genitals and squeezed so hard it brought tears to his eyes. “G-Gaara, don’t -”

“Tell me,” he said tightly. “Did you tell them about me? I know when you’re lying, Naruto, so you’d better be honest if you want this to end short and sweet. If you don’t...” he let the sentance hang, with its obvious unspoken meaning sinking in and Naruto cringed.

“No,” he said in a gasp. “No, Gaara, I swear I didn’t - I didn’t mention a word to them - Aagh!” He cut himself off as Gaara penetrated him with a single finger, and squeezed his eyes and teeth shut as it crooked inside of him, feeling that one sensitive area and making Naruto groan with pain or desire, it was indistinguishable; and then the digit was gone, leaving him with an odd empty feeling, a feeling that was so completely wrong and so right all at once.

And then he cried out - one long, rather high-pitched cry that ended with a grunt as Gaara filled him, not for the first time, but he could remember... - the pain, and the blood, as Gaara had been to big for Naruto to accomodate and he tore, the delicate skin parting and he wondered if he was going to die, he’d never felt pain so intense before - he remembered that as Gaara penetrated him now, the memories of the nights coming unbidden and the sheet below him became soaked with his tears.

Then Gaara’s voice, rough and calloused sounding as he spoke from above: “What’s wrong, little brother? This isn’t new to you. There should be little pain.” But Gaara didn’t understand - it wasn’t the pain, not really, not even the pleasure that he inflicted; rather the memories of the pain, of the blood and of the tears, and Naruto couldn’t stop crying as Gaara thrust into him, shoving his body further into the already filthy sheet with his weight and his thrusts. Naruto moaned again, his voice muffled by the bed, but the pain was nothing alike that of which he’d first experienced, the first time he’d ever felt Gaara inside of him... His breath hitched in his throat and somehow, somewhere, he mustered up the strength to force out of his parted lips: “I didn’t tell them Gaara, please, please stop!” his plea ending in a near howl as Gaara intensified his attack, slamming into him up to the hilt.

Gaara chuckled lowly, a sound which sent chills down Naruto’s spine. “This isn’t about them, little brother, not anymore,” he murmured with a small smile as he once again reached to grasp Naruto’s hardened shaft between his fingers. A voice, high and child-like, cried out, and Naruto didn’t even realize it was his own until it left his throat, and the wild moan only seemed to serve to make Gaara even hotter, more frustrated. As Gaara’s fingers toyed with him - as they fingered the sensitve little areas that felt as though earthquakes of indescribable pleasure were crashing down upon him, as he slammed once more into Naruto, he felt deep within his bowels a white-hot sensation, one he’d felt before, one he’d known and almost at the same time felt his own climax. Gaara continued to thrust even after Naruto’s come splayed his hand, the warm and still twitching shaft beneath his fingers spent, and pulled out. Again the feeling was odd and Naruto whimpered. Gaara got up, not bothered at his nudity or Naruto’s at all, and went into the bathroom. He cleaned himself up, the blood, both his and Naruto’s, and the already drying creamy whiteness, then took and swathed his arm in bandages. It had thankfully not caused him too much pain as he made love to Naruto. Naruto... He glanced into the room. Naruto’s contour was trembling, convusling uncontrollably, and Gaara tossed him a clean, damp rag. Naruto gave no indication he’d seen the washclothe and Gaara, finishing his arm, walked back to Naruto and began to bath him in the rag. Naruto was limp, unresponsive, as the washclothe slid along his flesh. He whimpered once and Gaara tossed the rag into a bin closeby. Leaning over the small body, he kissed Naruto’s ear, scarred by previous bite marks. “Good night.”

Naruto did not answer - Gaara was not expecting him to. Instead he prodded Naruto up, long enough to change the sheets and throw them into the bin also, replace them, and let Naruto fall back onto the bed, spent. Gaara slid in beside the warm body and snuggled close. Naruto was unfeeling as Gaara’s arms slid around him, pulling him close, breathing in his scent and the smell of spent sex. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered into the ear, and still got no answer.

Naruto recalled sharply the number on the television, that day, when he’d seen all those dead women - the police station, he could call, leave an anonymous tip, no one would be the wiser - he would ask for Detective Sasuke -

“Naruto.” He froze; Gaara leaned over him, and kissed his jaw bone. Even that little gesture, that little tiny brush of the lips, was enough to send electricity throughout Naruto. “I love you, little brother,” whispered his brother.

Naruto was silent.

Chapter Four
Part One

The day dawned sunny and bright. A perfect day for Sakura’s funeral, Sasuke thought, hands in his pockets as his attention drifted. The priest, holding the bible in front of him, droned on and on but he wasn’t listening. The people around him - all from the police department and various places that Sakura knew them from - made him feel suffocated and he longed to escape, to just talk a walk and be alone with his thoughts.

“Sasuke.” He glanced up; Captain Kakashi, his face full of sadness and sympathy, stood awkwardly next to him. “Hey,” he said.

Sasuke only nodded briefly and returned his gaze to the coffin, bright with a huge, colorful bouquet. Kakashi continued to speak, his normally loud, boisterous voice quiet with sorrow.
“She was one of my best detectives,” he said quietly. “You and her... - you were great together, Sasuke. It’s a loss to the whole police community.” He paused, then forced himself to continue. “We’re gonna break this case wide open. For Sakura’s sake.”

Sasuke, his face lowered, lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl. The bastard who did this is going to pay, he vowed, shutting Kakashi and everyone else out. The bastard who shot Sakura is going to die. He was aware of Kakashi repeating his name and frowned. “Excuse me, Captain,” he said, and walked away. Kakashi watched him go with a small sigh.

Sasuke wandered alone in the graves as the people gathered around Sakura’s grave began to disperse. He glanced at the crowd and began to resume walking - and stopped short. That guy - Naruto... why was he here? He was half behind a thick oak tree, watching the funeral detachedly, a slightly sad expression on his face. Sasuke walked up behind him - snuck really, careful of the crackling leaves and footsteps. He stopped a few feet away and was silent, watching Naruto. Finally, he said, “Hey.”

Naruto jumped, spun, and stared at Sasuke, then recognized him. “Oh!” he said. “Oh. Hi.” He glanced over his shoulder; people were beginning to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Sasuke asked, taking a step forward. Naruto shrugged uncomfortably.

“Well, I just heard about her funeral...” he replied softly. “I’m sorry.”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at him. Something in the back of his mind buzzed - something wasn’t right about this guy, he was certain of it. He decided to test the waters. “You don’t know anything about this, do you?” he said softly, dangerously.

Naruto jumped again. “What?! No! Why - why would I?”

Something about his attitude... - Sasuke thought. He doesn’t look capable of committing murder, but there’s something he’s not telling. Abruptly, he said, “Would you like to go out again?” He had to find out -

Naruto hesitated. “I guess,” he said finally.

“Good.” Sasuke turned and began to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll call you.”

“Wait -” Naruto began, but Sasuke had crossed the graves, he had joined the crowd and he finished to himself, “Don’t you need my number...?”

Chapter Four Part Two

“Okay, people.” Kakashi addressed a room full of detectives. “We’re on the trail of a serial killer who not only killed six girls now, but one of our own detectives. That makes it seven - and that makes it personal.” He cast a glance about the room. Everyone had angry, determined looks on their faces. They were pissed. He discreetly stole a look at Sasuke; the detective’s eyes were closed, he was slumped over with his arms crossed; but Kakashi could tell from the way his brow was furrowed that he wasn’t asleep. He sighed and continued. “This is a blown-up map of East Tokyo,” he said, indicating the projection behind him, “The killer’s exclusive area. The black dots represent where all the victims lived; the white, where they worked; and the red, where they died.” Sasuke opened his eyes to slits to look at the drawing. There was now twenty-one dots. Including Sakura’s. He could see the red line, plain as day to those who noticed it, and glared at it. They had that cocksucker that day, if only he hadn’t of -

He sat up. Kakashi had taken their idea of the red line and was running with it. He was assigning patrol units to patrol that line twenty-four hours a day. He would be excluded and, although Kakashi certainly didn’t elaborate, he knew why. Everyone was feeling sorry for him, sorry he’d lost his partner, sorry he had no partner now. Sorry, sorry, sorry. How he hated that word. It could convey so much and yet mean so little. His expression tightened until he was glaring out into nothing and was unaware of it until Kakashi said, “Sasuke? Are you all right?” And he lifted his head, realizing the captain had been staring at him, and nodded shortly. The captain returned to his discussion.

His mind wandered - returned to the sixth grade teacher he’d met. Naruto... in his mind he pictured the timid, short blonde man. He thought about his large blue eyes, eyes that hid something, everything about him was the manner of hiding something, but for the life of him couldn’t figure out what. Obviously - obviously it had to be something about the murders, something about them... but what? There was no way - absolutely no way that that man could ever stomach a murder, much less commit himself. And the way they were committed... whoever did these was either strong or driven by an anger, a rage so strong it was an adrenaline that made him strike with fatal force. But if Naruto didn’t do it, if Naruto wasn’t the murderer, the one who killed Sakura, then who was? What would he be hiding? The real murderer, perhaps? But why... in a flash he thought of their previous conversation and his mention of Naruto living alone. What had Naruto’s reply been? No. Of course. His roommate - or whoever lived with him, whatever the relationship was - that was it, that was who the murderer was! He sprang from his chair, startling the whole room and every head turned to watch him flee, barely remembering to grab his jacket and muttered an apology as he slammed the door shut.

The room remained silent, puzzled, and then Kakashi sighed, shaking his head, and returned back to the discussion.



Sasuke was already in his car and driving before he glanced at the clock and swore - it was only noon, Naruto was still teaching. What school did he teach at? He paused, decided it didn’t matter, and drove to his home.

He reached the apartment house and parked a block down, just in case, and walked up to the building. He tried the front door; unlocked. So far so good. He went up the three levels until he reached Naruto’s door and listened carefully for anyone inside. It was complete silent. He tried the door; locked. Hell, he was a cop, he could figure this out; he looked around wildly, then at his feet, and knelt, lifting the mat at the door. Bingo. He grabbed the key and opened the door.

Inside was dark, much darker than it should’ve been, after all, it was noon - and realized that the culprits were dark, heavy curtains drawn over all the windows. He was puzzled. Unless Naruto didn’t like the daylight, which he didn’t think so, why...?

He continued his search. Everything was typical of a bachelor pad; one bed, one dresser filled with clothes, neatly folded; he figured Naruto must be one of those neat freaks. He checked the bathroom, going through the drawers. One toothbrush. One towel. One washcloth out - but wait. He glanced at the dirty clothes bin and realized something bright red was sticking out. He picked it up with his index finger and thumb. A blood-soaked rag. Frowning, he put it back and continued searching. A few pans; the cupboards held some healthy food, but mostly Ramen. He must really like Ramen, Sasuke thought. The sink yielded one bowl that hadn’t been washed, one pair of chopsticks lying on the counter. He checked the messages; none. He sighed, taking a brief pause. Nothing. Nothing to indicate a roommate or someone else living here at all. Perhaps it was one of those times when the roommate was living away...? He flipped through a notepad aside the phone. It, too, was blank. He opened the washer and dryer; empty. A basket of folded clothes was next to it and he went through that; he was about to give up when he froze. Something black. A shirt. He pulled it out, unfolded it, and stared at it. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly. It was the shirt - same exact shirt that one kid showed them at the Treasure Box. And it was ripped, too. He glanced around, then folded it and stuffed it into his jacket, then left quickly, locking the door after him and hiding the key back where he’d gotten it from, then got out of there.

Chapter Four Part Three

“Naruto?” Naruto immediately recognized the voice on the line as the detective. Sasuke. He smiled slightly, curling on the couch and trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Hello,” he replied. “How did you get my number?”

He heard a low chuckle over the line. “I’m a cop, remember?”

Naruto’s smile was bitter. “How could I forget?”

There was a brief pause. “Anyway... I was just calling - are we still on for that, uh, thing?” He was careful not to call it a date. He heard a slight rustling, and then Naruto answered.
“Yeah.” Another pause. “Today?”

“If you’re free.” He heard nothing in Naruto’s tone that implied he knew Sasuke was snooping about - of course not, he scolded himself. Why would he? “Tonight?”

“Okay,” Naruto glanced about the dark apartment. Gaara hadn’t returned and, though Naruto was worried sick because he hadn’t seen his brother for a few days, he was just a tiny bit relieved. Maybe, a little voice said, maybe he’s not coming back. He shook his head. “Any time’s fine.”

“Eight o’clock, I’ll meet you,” Sasuke said, and hung up. Naruto blinked, surprised at the lack of ‘goodbye’, then hung up as well.

“How are you?” Sasuke greeted the teacher with a smile. Naruto shrugged and locked the door behind him. Sasuke didn’t meet his eyes as he did so and walked side by side down the hall. They walked in silence all they way to the same little cafe they’d visited earlier.

“By the way,” Sasuke said casually as he sat down at the booth, “How is your roommate...?”
Naruto’s head jerked up. No matter this man’s intentions he was still wary of the detective. “Fine,” he said cautiously.

“Is he still living with you?”

Naruto had to think about that one. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t seen him for a while, so...” he deliberately let the sentence hang. Sasuke nodded and ordered a coffee and a sandwich, then waited for Naruto to order. He glanced up, then ordered a sandwich. “No coffee?” Sasuke said.

“Not a fan,” Naruto said, and Sasuke didn’t question his previous order of the last time they’d been here. Instead they sat in silence, each in their own thoughts; Sasuke thinking about Sakura and Naruto about Gaara. Sasuke stared at Naruto for a while, thinking: is he really capable of such a brutal, inhuman action like murder? Naruto, his lashes lowered, wasn’t looking at Sasuke. No, Sasuke decided. I count myself as a pretty good judge of character, and I don’t think he is the murderer. He’s too... he’s just too... he frowned. He didn’t know where that thought was taking him. Naruto glanced at Sasuke and, noticing his speculative gaze, blushed ever so slightly and looked back down quickly. A smile tugged at the corners of Sasuke’s mouth as he thought, how cute. He’s blushing! He glanced out the window. Sakura, he thought fondly, would be happy.

“You don’t talk very much, do you?” he said suddenly to the shy man before him. Naruto, surprised, glanced up.

“I don’t?” he said blankly, completely caught unaware. Sasuke chuckled.

“No. You don’t.” At which point they both fell silent - until Naruto broke it.

“You...” he said softly, then shook his head slightly. “Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

For a moment Sasuke stared at Naruto, then answered, “No.” He paused. “Why would you?”

Naruto was silent as he briefly thought of Gaara but tactfully did not mention him. “Some people might find it annoying, is all.”

Sasuke leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “And who thinks that about you?”

“No one,” Naruto lied, taking a bit of his previously untouched sandwich. “It’s just a thought.”

“And so you’re silent because of it?”

Naruto didn’t answer right away. “I guess so,” he said, finally.

“Mm.” Sasuke said nothing after that, content merely to watch Naruto nibble at his sandwich. “You’re also very timid,” he said.

Naruto glanced up at him with amusement in his eyes. “And you must be practicing psychiatry.” He grinned to show he was joking. “You make a lot of assumptions.”

“Part of being a detective.” Sasuke shrugged. Suddenly reminded of his job, he looked away. Remembering the shirt he’d found in Naruto’s apartment - which was sitting in his home right then - he knew that he would probably have to arrest Naruto on suspicion of murder. But by Kami, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to think that this shy and unobtrusive man was responsible for the brutal deaths of seven girls. Seven young, innocent women who did not deserve to die the deaths they did. He shook his head in an effort to clear it and was only partly successful. A part of him would always carry his job with him, with its grisly memories and grim determination to catch the killers, and another part of him always tried to forget it, to distance himself from the lives that were so unfairly taken away from the victims, just so that he could go home and sleep, only to face another day.

He hadn’t realized his expression had gone bitter until Naruto, his voice concerned, said, “Are you all right, Sasuke?”

He looked up. Naruto had leaned forward slightly, his eyes filled with worry and confusion. “Huh?” he said, then, “Oh. Yeah. I’m okay, thanks.” and smiled warmly at Naruto, who smiled - slightly - in return. “Yeah,” he repeated, and nodded. “I’m just fine.”

“Okay,” Naruto, thusly reassured, said. “I’m glad.”

Later, after they’d finished their little dinner, Sasuke walked Naruto back home. He thought it was funny, really - it almost felt like he was back in high school, escorting the shy young
date home. All the awkwardness and uncertainty resurfaced and, as Naruto unlocked his door, Sasuke shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to look uncomfortable. Naruto noticed anyway.

“Would...” he said, then cleared his throat. “Would you like to come in?”

“Uh...” Sasuke hesitated and he remembered the day he’d broken into the apartment. But, he quickly reassured himself, if he had his wits about him there was no way Naruto would find out. “Sure,” he said, finally, and followed Naruto into the living room, trying to look as though seeing the place for the first time. He cast an appreciative glance around, which in fact he hadn’t had time to do when he ransacked the place, and really studied the room. It was very interestingly decorated. It seemed like a battle - a battle of happy things and not so happy things. He saw a tiny glass sculpture of a cat playing with a ball of yarn, and next to it a dragon snarling, its tail curled around a bloody sword. He noticed, too, that most - no, all - of the windows had heavy, dark curtains pulled over them, casting the whole place in a gloomy and permeating ambience.

He noticed Naruto watching him with a sort of awkward fascination. He felt a smile cross his lips as he questioned, “What?”

“Nothing,” Naruto answered, and ducked his head as he turned around, nervously fiddling with a deck of cards that lay on a small table. Sasuke saw he was blushing again, only a light spray of pink over his cheeks, and chuckled. Naruto’s head jerked up at the sound of Sasuke’s laugh, and his blush deepened at Sasuke’s grin. “What?” he said almost defensively. “What’s so funny?”

Sasuke shook his head. “You.”

Naruto’s mouth worked, his eyes wide and full of confusion. “Me?” he managed at last, and Sasuke laughed again.

“Yeah. You.” He shook his head with humor at Naruto. “Well,” he said at last, “I guess I’d better go then.” He gave Naruto a warm, happy smile and Naruto nodded.

“Yeah,” Naruto said and nervously fiddled with his keys. “Yeah,” he repeated and held out his hand. “Thank you.”

Sasuke looked at the hand, shrugged, then hugged Naruto. Naruto stiffened as the detective’s arms went around him, millions of thoughts immediately plaguing him, but he didn’t pull away or fight. Sasuke released him, smiled, and said, “I’ll see you later.” Then he was gone. Just like that. Naruto blinked in the sudden - and rather depressing - silence and emptiness, then sighed and slumped into the nearest chair.

“Yeah,” he said aloud in the dark apartment. “I’ll see you later, too.”




A/N: It probably will take longer for me to update now that I am officially computer-less.... But I'll manage. I hope. >.< I will try my hardest to get my laptop fixed (Believe me, I'm dying without it) and keep updating!! ^^ I have begun work on Invincible, Machination's sequel, but it's slow work because again... I have no computer. It'll be posted when Machination is completed. ^^ Enjoy and have a good day! Please review!!!! SBP

Chapter Four Part Four

Sasuke was loathe to show Kakashi the shirt - not only would it be incriminating Naruto, but he’d broken into his apartment without a warrant or anything. Basically, he broke the law. Of course his boss would understand, though - he’d covered Sasuke’s back when the detectives had made slip-ups like this before, so he wasn’t too worried about that. But Naruto... still, somewhere in the back of his mind - somewhere between you’re in love and what the fuck are you doing - and probably next to his common sense, which he’d stored away to see Naruto with a clean conscious - somewhere, it said, you don’t know. You just don’t know who, or what, Naruto is. You don’t know what he’s done and what he’s capable of.

Not only that - Sasuke’s brow furrowed as he thought of this - he was almost 100 percent positive that, murderer or not, Naruto was hiding something. Maybe, the ‘madly in love’ part of him argued, maybe it has nothing to do with the murders. Maybe he’d made a mistake in his life, at one point, like sell crack to a guy for money or something, that he was afraid was going to come out into the light. Maybe it was just something about him, about his past, that he just didn’t want anyone - much less a detective in the police force - to find out about.

Of course, he was forced to admit to himself, that was only wishful thinking. Naruto was hiding something, he was sure of it, and it was his job - and his duty to Sakura - to find out. And if he was the murderer, then he’d be sent to jail and Sasuke would have to refine his pride on judging people. And Naruto would be the murderer. But if he wasn’t...

He shook his head. “Shut up,” he said aloud to himself. “You’re thinking too much.”

A rough-looking, bearded, dirty homeless man looked at him and muttered loudly: “And we thought we were crazy. Right, Earnie?”

Sasuke glanced at him standing alone in the street, shrugged, and continued on. He had a job to do, whether he liked it or not.


Naruto sighed - then corrected himself. Stop sighing, he scolded himself firmly. You’ve been way too gloomy with Gaara and the detective gone.

He was at school - it was late at night now, with all the students and most of the other personnel having retired earlier in the evening. The school was silent, dark except for his small desk lamp next to him, illuminating the giant stack of papers he’d been grading - nearly done. He glanced at the clock. Past ten o’clock. He stifled a groan. It would probably be past eleven when he finished, and he wouldn’t get home till midnight. The way things were going, he might as well just crash here for the night.

He shook his head - Gaara might come home. Might. For a minute he stared worriedly into nothing, thinking. How long had Gaara been gone? A week? He’d never been gone this long before. Never. Maybe his going out with the detective angered him? He remembered what his brother had said - about the detectives - the night he’d been injured. He sat up straighter in his chair as something clicked - wait, wasn’t that the same night the woman detective - Sakura - was murdered...? Were they connected?

Don’t be silly, he told himself and forced himself to concentrate on the papers before him, which were beginning to blur as his eyes grew tired and weak. Gaara will come home. Something’s just preventing him from coming home.

Not for the first time, he thought: What if Gaara’s hurt? What if he’s in jail? There has to be a reason why Gaara hasn’t returned, hasn’t called, nothing. No word, no sign. And the detective... he shut his eyes tightly, then opened them wide in an effort to keep them from drooping and him from nodding off. The detective. Sasuke. He blushed just remembering his smile - his easygoing, charming manner, the way his eyes flashed when he laughed, the --

Naruto slammed the pen down so hard he caught his fingers between the pen and the table and yelped. “No,” he said aloud. Gaara was the love of his life, the only love of his life, and there was no more room. No matter how he felt, or if it was right or wrong, that was that. Gaara was not to be replaced by Sasuke, not even if he didn’t come back for a year. He loved Gaara - he always would. No question. But, even as he told himself that, something lurked in the back of his mind: what if, by some little chance, Gaara was the murderer?

He shoved the papers away and stood up, glancing at the clock. Almost eleven. He’d go home, get some sleep, and come back early to finish this up. He couldn’t stay here any longer; the silence and his uncontrollable mind were driving him nuts. He donned his jacket, put the neatly stacked papers away in his drawer, and, turning off the light, left the school with relief. Outside, the air was brisk but not unpleasantly cold; a typical late spring or early fall night. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and started walking. It would take him a while to get home. I really should get a car, he thought, but I enjoy walking so much.

He put his hands in his pockets and, as he walked, became aware of something.... watching him. Following him. He could feel eyes boring into his back and he whirled, staring wildly into the shadows. Nothing. No one. Shakily he resumed his pace, faster this time, and again he could feel them, someone watching him. He turned and this time, saw a fleeting glimpse of red - of red hair. Red hair? “Gaara?” he called out uncertainly.

No answer. This time he ran. And, when he turned around again, he saw him - he saw the shadow apart from the rest, who was moving rapidly, running, it seemed like - toward him. And he saw the shadow had red hair. Light from a distant streetlight fell on the face and he gasped, stumbling back and losing his balance for a moment; he screamed as he fell. “Gaara! What are you doing?!”

But still the shadow advanced, with its eyes gleaming death and its mouth twisted into a macabre smile that was devoid of humor. Again he screamed, his voice cracking as it reached its pitch; as it died he thought distantly it just sounded like a scared little boy afraid of the darkness, crying for his mother. “Gaara!”

He managed to get to his feet as his brother snagged at his jacket. His foot lashed out and connected with something solid and, freed from the grasp halting his flight, bolted, his feet slapping against the pavement unsteadily and he barely managed to keep his balance. He slammed against the wall, shoved himself off, and risked a look behind him. Gaara’s face was twisted hideously into a grimace that even Naruto didn’t recognize - twisted into something that - that wanted to kill. Something bloodthirsty. For the first time in his life Naruto was afraid. He was really, really afraid and he wondered if he was going to die.

He realized that he had only one way to go - down an alley, down a long, dark alleyway which, if he got through, would end up in safety - lights and people. If he got through.... without thinking, without giving himself a chance to hesitate, he ran down it, swallowed up in the darkness, his breath coming out in hard, short gasps. Still his brother advanced. What struck Naruto as probably the most frightening about it - about all of this - was the fact that, though they were running, though his footsteps were loud and his breath harsh, he could hear nothing from the shadows behind him. All he saw - all he felt - was it advancing, getting closer, like a cold fist tightening around his heart and squeezing it till it burst. He threw a look over his shoulder - his brother was close, so close he could see the malice shining from his dark orbs, so close he could see the very edges of his brother’s mouth twitch upwards into a smirk as he confidently closed in on his prey.

And then Naruto saw the body. Skidding to a stop, he let out a shriek as he nearly toppled onto something decidedly dead. A woman. Another woman. He turned so fast his feet were following the rest of his body as he wildly searched the darkness for any sign of his brother.

Nothing. He was alone. He looked down - she’d been pretty before her expression dominated her features, turning something pretty and delicate into something horrid and morbid. A thin trickle of blood trailed down her pretty mouth. Her hands had been thrown in front of her, as in a defensive stance, a last resort, a last defiant act. Her neck was grotesquely bent - her body angled in an unnatural manner. The side of her head that he couldn’t see, lying on the ground, was surrounded in a shallow pool of dark crimson liquid. He felt bile rise up and fought to quell it, swallowing the taste painfully down his throat. He was crying before he realized it; this was it, this was the proof, it had to be, his brother was a murderer and now he was going to murder him... or was going to. His shoulders began to shake as he sobbed, and then he became aware of sirens - suddenly and unexpectedly loud. Uncomfortably close. He jerked his head up as he realized they were coming here. How had they known? He wildly looked at the body, then back away again, his mind going a mile a minute. Sasuke. He could ask for Detective Sasuke, explain everything, and - no. No. He contaminated the crime scene; they would never believe he’d just stumbled upon it. His brother had disappeared. Careful not to look at the body again, he knew that he couldn’t stay here. He had to run. As the sirens became so loud it seemed like they were being blasted inches from his ears, he took off, running jaggedly back where he’d come from. He’d brave his brother over the police. But, he’d been so close to the street - to safety - and now, now he had the alley to cross again - he didn’t know if he could make -

Lights cornered him, concentrating on his retreating figure, and voices shouted, one louder, probably into a loudspeaker: “Freeze! Police!”

He continued to run. He had to escape. He felt like a caged animal, like a rabbit being chased by hounds and rapidly tiring, running out of hiding places and knew it was going to die. Knew he was going to die.

“Freeze!”

He almost did as he identified the voice. He shot a look over his shoulder and saw Sasuke; the detective’s face filled with shock as he recognized Naruto. “Naru-?!” he said before he could stop himself, his voice filled with horror and disbelief.

Naruto stopped, slamming to a halt and almost falling over as he did. “Sasuke,” he said in a tired voice, sagging against the wall as he tried in vain to control his careening emotions - his shaking, trembling body, his breath coming out in unsteady gasps. “Sasuke,” he repeated, and the detective shined his flashlight on Naruto’s face. He could make out the tear tracks on his face, the look in his eyes, like a trapped animal accepting the quiet horror that he was going to die. “Sasuke.”

Sasuke knelt by him - he could see everyone gather around the body of the woman he’d glimpsed at before taking off after Naruto - he knew she was dead. He could hear his boss yell for an ambulence; and someone cover Sasuke, god dammit. He turned back to Naruto and saw he was unarmed. His eyelids drooped as his head slowly lowered. “....What have I done,” he muttered. “Sasuke.”

What had he done? He glanced over and saw several detectives hurry to join him. Whatever he had done, or hadn’t done, regardless of previous relationships or feelings, there was now a hell of a lot of evidence pointing at Naruto as the murderer. As the executer of Sakura. He got to his feet and backed off as the police surrounded the exhausted teacher, guns out, demands to put his hands in the air hanging in Sasuke’s ears as he turned away, then slowly walked away.

“Sasuke.” He paused. Naruto’s voice held desperation, fright, and... and what? It changed nothing. “Sasuke!” He resumed walking as an officer began to read Naruto his rights, but his eyes and ears were only for the detective walking away from him and his voice rose into a near howl and a half sob as it rang out and haunted the ears of the listeners: “Sasuke!”




A/N: Muahaha, I leave you with a cliff hanger. Review and maybe I'll be quicker with the updates, eh?? ^^ Enjoy! SBP

Chapter Five
Part One


“What were you doing the night of the murder?”

“I was - I was at school.”

“Doing what?”

“Correcting papers.”

“What papers?”

“They were tests... they had to be corrected by the next day, but I was tired... - I thought I would just get some sleep...”

“And then what?”

“Then I... I walked home...”

“But you didn’t make it.”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“I......” Naruto trailed off. Sasuke was interrogating him, pacing back and forth, nothing of their previous encounters reflecting in his hard and perfectly serious eyes as he threw question after question at Naruto, who tried in vain to answer them as fast as they were asked and often found himself feeling helpless and confused. It was the next day - he thought it was the next day - and, after they’d found him, next to the body - he wouldn’t let himself think about it but he could still picture her body, her face and it haunted his nightmares the few hours he’d managed to sleep - after they’d found him, arrested him, and booked him, he spent the night in jail and in the morning Sasuke had come. At first he’d been happy, expecting Sasuke to clear all this up because he knew he wasn’t the murderer, of course he wasn’t - but Sasuke had only started to interrogate him, to grill him until his head spun, showing none of the kindness and humor he had on the few times they’d gone out. Instead Naruto was reminded of the Sasuke he’d met that first time - when they were asking him questions, when the look in Sasuke’s eyes dominated his features, the look of determination, of the sense of duty that nothing came before his job.

Sasuke glanced sharply at Naruto when he didn’t continue. “Go on.”

Naruto took a deep breath. “I was walking home,” he said slowly. “I... I took the alleyway and... and I saw...” he trailed off again. Sasuke waited patiently. He took a deep breath - like collecting his frazzled nerves, Sasuke thought - and went on, though it was obviously difficult for him. “I saw a girl.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Sasuke pressed, “The dead girl.” Naruto nodded and Sasuke prodded, “Go on.” So he did.

“She was... dead. She... her... - her head, it was bent wrong and the blood...” his voice hitched on the last word, making it come out uncharacteristically squeaky and, had this been any other situation, Sasuke would’ve thought it was funny. As it was, it only served to make Naruto’s state rather more pitiful. But he forced himself to carry on his narrative. “I was frightened,” he said as though the very task of speaking was so painful it hurt just to do. His voice, though reflecting his normally quiet and shy nature, was almost nothing of what Sasuke was used to - his voice was quavering, breaking, as though unsure of himself, as though he knew the wrong word could incriminate him for the rest of his life. It was obvious the timid school teacher had witnessed something that had shattered what willpower he had, that he’d been through something - seen something - so traumatic he simply couldn’t face it without crumbling. Would this man, Sasuke thought in one of the few peaceful moments his mind gave him, free of questions, ever live a normal life again? Meanwhile Naruto was speaking, his voice shaking, rising and falling, as the memories of last night refreshed themselves in his mind.

“Her body,” he was saying in a near whisper, “Her body was twisted in an... abnormal manner. Almost as if giant hands tried to snap her in half by twisting her trunk...” Abruptly he was cut off by a sudden sob that caught Sasuke off-guard; he looked at Naruto and saw the younger man had finally completely broken down and was now crying like a baby into his hands. For a minute Sasuke stood there, at a loss for what to do, and then his instincts - no, his feelings for Naruto - kicked in and he knelt, putting an arm around Naruto’s body. Abruptly he realized, as he supported the shaking shoulders, how frail and small they looked. Not like a fully grown man’s at all, but more like a boy’s. He put his other arm around him and hugged Naruto tightly to him as Naruto cried into the crook of his neck. He could feel the tears soak into his shirt as he tried to absorb the convulsions, but he didn’t care. His arms clasped Naruto to him tightly. At one point he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into Naruto and the two were still for a long time - or was it? Sasuke was unaware of how much time passed, how long Naruto cried, how long they were hugging each other. Maybe five minutes, maybe five hours.

He finally forced himself to push Naruto away; he needed information. “Naruto,” he said gently to the shaking young man, “Naruto. I need to know something.” He paused but when Naruto said nothing pressed on. “I need to know... about your roommate-” he felt Naruto stiffen in his arms, “Your roommate... where is he? Who is he? What’s his name?”

Naruto didn’t say anything but Sasuke waited patiently, waited for him to speak, and he was rewarded a few minutes later when Naruto muttered: “Gaara.” Unsure, Sasuke remained silent, and as he’d hoped, Naruto continued. He had to strain to hear him, and he knew that this must’ve been so difficult for Naruto, and yet the younger man perservered. “Gaara is my brother. He... took care of me. Ever since I was young, when our mother died...” his voice trailed off and Sasuke tucked two fingers beneath his chin, lifting up his head so he could stare into the blond’s cerulean eyes, swimming with tears.

“Naruto,” Sasuke said gently. “Where is he.”

Naruto’s face crumpled and he whimpered. “No,” he whispered. “Gaara’s not the murderer.” He shook his head vehemenetly and repeated, “Not the murderer...” Then he looked up at Sasuke and the detective saw in his eyes the first glimmer of Naruto’s old self he’d seen since arresting him. “Gaara disappeared,” Naruto said in a tired voice. “It was the night the woman detective... Sakura... the night she was killed. He came home. He’d been injured... on his arm. Like a long, deep scratch and there was blood everywhere...” He was silent for a minute. “He wanted to know... about you. About if I’d ever told you about him.... I told him no. Soon after, he disappeared. Through - through all this, the whole investigation, I thought he was the killer, that he did kill those girls, but I didn’t want to be right.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I was walking home from school and I... saw him. His eyes... they looked like they wanted to kill something, and I... I ran.” Sasuke was puzzled at this sudden show of strength in Naruto; his voice was clear, his tears had stopped, but there was an unsettling apathy in his eyes that Sasuke didn’t like. He didn’t want to see it there. He wanted the old Naruto, the laughing, shy, timid school teacher. Naruto continued to speak. “I ran down an alley and he was following me. Somehow, he was silent, I couldn’t see him and I couldn’t hear him, but I - I knew he was there. I just knew.” He drew his arms tighter around himself. “I saw the body and I stopped. Gaara was gone. I was just... there, and the body was there, and I didn’t know what to do...” his breath hitched in his throat, “And then you were there....”

Sasuke waited but Naruto stopped. A silence reigned over the little room, and then Sasuke said: “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I love my brother,” Naruto answered. “No matter what he did to me, or to those girls... no matter what he told me.... even when he said he loved me.....”

Confused, Sasuke glanced at the teacher but said nothing. Naruto, a slight tremor in his voice, continued as though Sasuke wasn’t there, as though he was trying to reassure himself even though he didn’t even believe himself. “Not even when he told me it was right.” His voice had trailed off to a whisper, and Sasuke didn’t know what he meant. Naruto’s grip around the detective tightened as he whispered: “Not even as he loved me.”

With a jolt Sasuke realized what Naruto was talking about; disengaging Naruto’s grip slightly so he could look into the teacher’s face, he said softly: “He molested you, didn’t he?” And at Naruto’s downcast, guilty face and averted eyes Sasuke knew he was right; Naruto had been molested by Gaara, he’d been raped by him most likely, and the sick bastard had told him it was all okay.... He clenched his jaw. So. The true nature of Naruto’s mysterious roommate comes to light. No wonder why Naruto had been so reluctant to speak of him to me, Sasuke thought; he was probably dominated by his brother, using fear as a tool of control. Using Naruto’s mind, his pysche, twisting it until he had Naruto wrapped tightly around his little pinky. Growing angry Sasuke’s grip tightened instinctively around the teacher, and Naruto whispered, his voice sounding a little confused: “Sasuke?”

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” Sasuke said tightly. “I’m sorry. You should’ve told me.”

Naruto smiled slightly. “It’s all right, Sasuke, I forgive him. He’s my brother. I love him. It’s all right.” Even as he spoke, he remembered that night... not so long ago, when Gaara had been hurt, when Gaara made love to him, and wondered if he really believed himself.

“No!” It came out more forcefully than Sasuke intended and he took a deep breath. “No,” he repeated, more calmly. “It’s not all right, Naruto; what he did to you was wrong. Incest is wrong. What he did was wrong.” He stopped, not knowing what else to say; but Naruto seemed to have gotten it.

“I know,” he muttered. “I know that, but... he’s still my brother.” We are brothers, what better bond is that? We are blood, you and I...

“I need to know where he is,” Sasuke murmured. “I need to know, Naruto. I can take him away from you, I can get you away from him, for a very long time. You’ll never have to see him again.” Even as he spoke he wondered if Naruto was strong enough; if Naruto could break away from the grip his brother had over him.

“Never... again...?” It came out as a mere whisper. Naruto shook his head. “But I wouldn’t want that. No matter what he did to me. He took care of me, ever since we were little. I couldn’t just... do that to him.... it’s not right, Sasuke.” Nothing was. Nothing was right and everything was right, all at once; what Gaara did was right and it was wrong, but whatever it was, whichever he decided it was, he knew that, always, no matter where he went, Gaara would burn deeply and fiercely within him, and he would never, ever, forget what his brother had done to him - what he’d commited to his little brother -

“He murdered all those girls,” Sasuke told him firmly, even though there was absolutely no proof he did; in fact, Sasuke didn’t even know if Gaara existed or not. “He was responsible for Sakura’s death.” His voice was hard, harsh. Unforgiving. Someone was going to have to pay for this, and he hoped to Kami it wouldn’t be Naruto.



A/N: So, how did you like it...? Invincible is... coming along, if only this damn computer wasn't so slow. >.< Please review, your encouragement spurs me on!!! ^^ Enjoy, SBP

Chapter Five Part Two

Gaara slammed his fist into the wall again; it had bloodied his knuckles but he didn’t feel the pain. He let out a single, long scream of rage; it echoed and died away as it bounced off the walls. He stood there for a long moment, breathing harshly, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort; his eyes glared out into nothing as he furiously thought of what he was going to do. They took his Naruto away; Naruto was gone. He had to get Naruto back. He was going to kill whoever did this to him. A low, animalistic growl emanated from his slightly parted lips drawn back into a silent snarl; and then he was running, his feet making no sound on the pavement as he moved in the shadows.

He couldn’t go back home. They would undoubtedly be there, searching for him, searching for the evidence of the killer. He remembered the ripped shirt, the bloody rags and clothes he’d been wearing when he was shot by the woman detective; when they searched the apartment they would find evidence beyond a doubt that the killer had lived there. They would find the evidence, but they wouldn’t find him. So they would blame it on Naruto, his Naruto, his sweet little brother who didn’t deserve to die the death of a killer. He continued to run, cloaked in shadows as he made his way through Tokyo; before he really knew it he was standing before a large, inconspicuous building that was labeled ‘5th Precinct E. Tokyo’. His gaze traveled around the building, searching for flaws. As he did he heard a commotion to his side; glancing around, he saw a drunken-looking young man, stumbling with effort, begging for money of a policeman off his shift. The policeman said something sarcastic and cruel to the homeless man and pushed him aside, bent only on going home for a good night’s sleep. It was obvious this way only one of Tokyo’s large population of intravenous drug users; the scars riddled along his bare arms were apparent, even in the dim glow of the streetlight. The young man continued to totter along, toward Gaara’s direction; he grinned suddenly, bloodthirstily, as the junkie spotted him and made his way over, slowly. When he was close enough to see his eyes, the druggie asked, his voice cracked and high-pitched, “Hey, mister, you got any money? I need some money, real bad...” Alcohol diffused from his mouth, wafting up to Gaara’s nose, and he wrinkled it in disgust. He could see a syringe in the kid’s pocket. It was a good thing the darkness hid his face, because if the kid could see it, he would be running as fast as his unsteady legs would take him. Which wouldn’t be far.

“Yes,” Gaara said, checking his surroundings; the policeman was gone. His voice sounded coaxing, full of honey. “I do.” Eagerly the kid stepped forward, expecting a reward, a remuneration for all his hard work, asking countless people with no sympathy for only a little change. Gaara pounced and the kid got what he definitely didn’t expect. Maybe, had he been sober and undrugged, he might’ve put up a much better fight than what he did; as it was Gaara was grateful. The man’s reflexes were dramatically reduced, and he hadn’t even managed to turn around as Gaara’s hands went around his neck and deftly twisted his head with a sharp, pronounced crack. The kid crumpled and Gaara chuckled, a low, throaty laugh that held no humor. Malice dominated his face as he bent to review his handiwork. A noise from the precinct caused him to look up sharply; more policemen, off their shifts, were coming out, talking. Growling, he grabbed the body by the arms and dragged it further into the darkness, behind the building, and stored it beside a large green dumpster most likely belonging to the precinct, grinning at the irony. He positioned himself where he could see the door without him being seen. Soon his efforts were rewarded; the one he wanted walked out of the door and toward the direction of the parking garage. Carefully Gaara trailed the detective who had been with his brother; Sasuke, blissfully unaware of Gaara, got into his car. Gaara studied it as he drove away; a small black car. The license plate would be easy to remember. He watched as the detective drove away, then went in search of a phone booth.

He found one a few blocks away; the phonebook was in surprisingly good condition, thankfully. He flipped to the U’s and found the entry halfway down the page in small black writing: Uchiha Sasuke, Juu Go Koniriwa Av. East Tokyo. He stared at the letters until they burned into the back of his mind, and then he was off, into the shadows as though he’d never been there.


Sasuke came to the precinct every day, whether he was working or not; since he was the leading detective in the homicide case he could speak to Naruto anytime he wished. Slowly Naruto told him more, more of his life and of his brother; but the more Naruto spoke of him, the more Sasuke thought that the evil being Naruto was describing couldn’t be real. A few days after Naruto’s arrest he searched the apartment again; this time he had a warrant. He produced the shirt and numerous other evidence that wasn’t there when he first searched it; another shirt, ripped at the shoulder, soaked in a considerable amount of blood that washing hadn’t been able to get out. Also several rags and the bathroom sink and drain bore evidence of blood, also. But the one single thing that stood out most in Sasuke’s mind as he searched the dark little apartment with its heavy curtains thrust aside to let the natural light flow through, was that there was not a single clue as to another person living here. No pictures. No extra clothes, or shoes, or anything. It was as though - as he had suspected, deep somewhere in his mind that he refused to acknowlegde - this ‘Gaara’ of Naruto’s had never existed.

So, Sasuke thought as he stood alone in the living room, surrounded by yellow police tape and commotions outside, does that mean Naruto made up everything? Made up Gaara, made up his life, made up Gaara molesting him...? His story had been so thorough, so flawless, that Sasuke had a hard time believing that there had never been any Gaara, at any point in time, that it was simply a tale Naruto made up. He scowled thoughtfully as his gaze made another sweep around the room; it was a typical bachelor’s apartment, perhaps with the exception that it was neat and tidy. Sasuke’s own apartment looked as though a hurricane had hit it. He saw no pictures of Naruto or any of his family; but again he was struck at how strangely the room was decorated. Cute little knicknacks battled for dominance next to dark, bloody suggestions; he saw a drawing of a wolf, hackles risen, feeding on a dead dear, its jaws dark with blood, next to a prancing unicorn.

Maybe, he thought, maybe that was it. Maybe that was the proof that someone else was here. But even as he thought it he knew it wasn’t true; even if he believed it, no one else would. If anything.... if anything, it pointed merely to something that had occured to Sasuke before: though it was rare, almost unheard of in Tokyo, or in Japan for all it was worth, perhaps Naruto had schizophrenia. Maybe Naruto had a split personality, and Gaara was his other self, his suppressed self that came out because the timid little teacher couldn’t assert himself in any other way. His fists clenched as his mind ran free. This is what happens, he told himself angrily. This is what happens when you become emotionally involved with a murder suspect. He had a job to do; he had a duty to Sakura he had to fulfill, and he was going to let nothing - not even his feelings for Naruto - get in his way. Briefly, a vision flashed through his mind: Naruto, his blue eyes wide, strapped to an electric chair, the primitive metal helmet placed over his head.... Sasuke slammed his fist onto a coffee table and an officer working nearby dusting for fingerprints glanced at him, his gaze full of indignation and curiosity. Sasuke ignored him and instead tried to control his breathing, to calm himself. He’d been in trouble before, but never like this. And before, Sakura had always been there.

Fighting away sudden tears and a lump in his throat, he left the crime scene - Naruto’s home - and headed home.



A/N: Hope you enjoyed... (Do I say that at every chapter? Hm... oh well, I like my stories being enjoyed, so I will continue to say it at every chapter.)
Enjoy and review, SBP!

Chapter Six
Part One

Captain Kakashi glanced at the small, scribbled-on calendar propped up next to a picture of two smiling kids. He carefully drew a large X through one box with a thick black marker, then, capping the Sharpie again, he sat back in his chair with a sigh and a groan - from the chair - and viewed his handiwork.

It was still winter, and that would’ve depressed Kakashi alone if it hadn’t been for the recent problems in the precinct. He knew - if one could call it knowledge, though it was only a hunch - of Sasuke’s preference of the sexes. He could’ve guessed that much with all of Sasuke’s combined behaviors. He, unlike what both Sasuke and Sakura had feared, didn’t mind. He allowed a small, ironic smile to cross his face and scowled. As long as it didn’t directly affect him, that was. He also knew that Sasuke and the suspect in the murder case - what was his name? Naruto? - had more than simply a cop-and-robber relationship. And that, preference or no, was unacceptable. In addition to that, several of his coworkers had come up to Kakashi expressing concern for Sasuke. He’s acting strangely, they’d said. Ever since Sakura died, Sasuke hadn’t been himself and was more than a little eccentric and withdrawn, aloof. As Kakashi thought of it he couldn’t remember seeing a smile recently on the detective’s face. He frowned, his fingers absently stroking his chin as he stared into space, lost in thought. I should probably give Sasuke a few days off, he thought, give him time to --

“Captain Kakashi, sir!” He bit off a curse as he was forced to concentrate on the present and on the policeman before him, anonymous and looking like all the others in his immaculate, dark uniform with its patch, and Kakashi had to control his angered comeback. Instead he sighed.

“What is it?”

The man’s voice was clipped with barely suppressed excitement, and proud at being the one to relay the news to the Captain. “We’ve discovered there’s a body, a dead one, outside the building!”

Kakashi jumped to attention - this was new. “What?” he snapped, springing up, and followed the policeman with a jaunt that belied his aging years. “Where? How long ago? Who found it? Has it been identified yet?”

The policeman, whose name Kakashi had yet to remember, tried to answer the questions as fast as they were flung at him, but found himself fumbling for words as question after question was asked. “Uh - well, about fifteen minutes ago - in the back, behind the garbage cans - I think it was Detective Markus-san -”

Kakashi ignored his response and instead addressed the aforementioned Detective Markus-san, who was controlling the crime scene as Kakashi came up. “Markus!” he barked, bringing the detective to attention, “What happened here?”

A crowd was gathering behind the precinct’s dumpsters, and the yellow tape labeled CRIME SCENE - DO NOT ENTER was being put up as they were speaking. Markus, his half-American heritage prominent on his tanned face and wide blue eyes, said in near-perfect Japanese - for an American, that was - “Captain Kakashi, sir, thank goodness you’re here. I discovered the body first - I called everyone in, and sent Tashea-kun to get you.” At the mention of his name, who Kakashi finally remembered, thanks to Markus, the infinitely younger, barely bearded man puffed out his chest with a proud look. Kakashi gnawed his bottom lip and swore. “Where is Uchiha?” he demanded of the nearest policeman. “Somebody get me Uchiha, now!”


Almost an hour later, Sasuke was viewing the body with disgust - not because of the smell emanating from it, or the dead look in the young man’s eyes, or the rather sickening overall appearance and stature of the dead man, but because he’d been awoken from a sound sleep and he was annoyed. Call him disturbingly impervious, he didn’t care. He was chagrined that he’d been disturbed from his slumber and he cast a glare toward the unmoving and smelly body, as though casting blame upon the body - though it was hardly the kid’s fault he’d been killed. With a bit of an edge to his voice, he snapped as he took in the scene and the little mechanisms in his head that made him so famous for being a detective, “The kid didn’t get a chance to run, he was too drunk, most likely, or hyped up on drugs, and he saw it coming - but he wasn’t killed here. No.” Broodingly his dark eyes scrounged the surrounding pavement and spotted what he was looking for. “He was dragged here, probably to give the murderer more privacy to finish off the dirty work.” He kept his nerve-racking accusations to himself, the nagging little clues that made his blood run cold as he quickly realized something wasn’t right. The body, the manner in which he was killed, the ferocity and strength in which his neck was snapped... the only thing that didn’t fit was that the kid was male, and a junkie, but it still didn’t faze Sasuke. As he gazed down thoughtfully at the body he felt certain that his hunch was correct. Naruto wasn’t the murderer. He was still out here, loose, killing those who got in his way, or who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time... he cut off his train of thinking and raised his previously scowling expression to see the captain staring at him, eyebrows raised. He gave Kakashi a puzzled look in return over the hustle and bustle of the regular crime scene people. Kakashi sighed and shook his head slowly before dipping his head down to continue listening to the hotshot young kid who thought he was an expert when really this couldn’t have been a case he couldn’t count on his fingers.

Sasuke returned to his brooding and general decoding of the scene. His mind working furiously, he briefly thought of yelling at everyone to get out of here so he could think, but he decided it was a too impulsive and emotionally-driven move. Instead he concentrated on thinking as hard as he could.

The body had been dumped behind the dumpster - a fitting place, Sasuke observed dryly, for a junkie - and from the tiny specks of torn off skin on the rough pavement and the condition of the kid’s back it was obvious he’d been dragged here, either by his feet or by someone grasping his armpits. From the way the arms were held at an odd angle, as though they’d been thrust up, Sasuke was pretty sure of the latter. His sharp eyes followed the trail of torn-off skin that marked the area, and followed it carefully, his eyes narrowed as he slowly made his way up to the side of the precinct building, and several people stopped to stare in curiosity at this wierd detective that looked like he was stalking a snail, then finally shrugged and returned to their work, figuring it was just the Uchiha strangeness.

The trail ended right at the corner of the building, where someone could hide in the shadows and watch the door, a perfect hiding place. He scowled thoughtfully at the door, then up and down the sidewalk. Turning, he said sharply to the young detective who’d followed him - Tashea-kun - “Get me the cop who talked to the kid before the murder.”

Eyes wide, the young kid murmured a reply of acknowledgement and ran to do Sasuke’s bidding. He didn’t have long to wait - a rather beefy, square policeman walked up to Sasuke and said gruffy, “I’m Officer Kaziko. I saw the kid before he died.”

Sasuke contemplated the dull-looking, brawny man before him. Asking Tashea to find the cop who talked to the kid had been a hunch, but a good one. He figured the kid hadn’t been dead until the early morning hours, maybe around the shift change, and since he was hanging around here he was bound to ask someone - a cop going home to sleep - for some change. It was no surprise that he’d been right. “Tell me everything,” he said shortly.

“Uh, well....” the cop scratched his head with a large, beefy hand, “I was just going home - y’know, the usual - and the kid asks me for money. I told him no, I didn’t have none, and left for home.” Sasuke looked at the man’s hands with a mixture of disbelief and humor - they were huge. The fingers were large and stubby, and probably a full inch around; the palm was disproportionately huge. He looked over the rest of the man; he wasn’t fat, but more muscle and thick bone. He practically had no neck and his eyes were small in his square-like face. Sasuke lifted one side of a lip in revulsion and, at the silent snarl, the man blinked, taken aback and startled.

“What...?” he said, his deep voice puzzled. Sasuke shook his head abruptly.

“It’s nothing. Continue.” But the hands had set off another furious thinking track - the hands, he thought, the hands were the key. He recalled sharply in his mind the manners of the way the others were killed. Either blunt force trauma to the head, or a broken neck. Or the way Sakura had been killed... the way her nose had been driven into her brain so deeply she didn’t have a chance in the world... he clenched his jaw as he remembered vividly the body he and Sakura had viewed, their discussion over what had caused the cave in the victim’s head... no way that damage could have been bare hands. No way. The skull was bone, for Christ’s sake! No hands, no matter how strong, could cause such damage. He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and scowled thoughtfully. What did Naruto’s hands look like? Small, soft, feminime, just like the rest of him. Too timid to ever become aggressive enough to cause any damage at all, much less break someone’s neck or smash the side of a skull in. Unless backed by strength, by fury fueled by... by what? What would possess someone to kill, and not just kill, but so brutally? So heartlessly, so cruelly... He became aware of, once again, Kakashi staring discreetly at him in a curious manner and he raised his head to glare ferociously at the gaze he felt upon him, then lighten up when he realized it was his boss. Annoyed, he walked over to the white haired man.

“You want something, Captain?” he said in a tight voice, hoping that Kakashi would take a hint.

Kakashi did. He sighed. “Sasuke, I need to talk to you. Be in my office in fifteen minutes. The rest of the detectives can handle this.” With that he left, leaving Sasuke to stare with an unfriendly look at his boss’s retreating back.

At the prescribed time he knocked on Kakashi’s door and the captain called tiredly, “Come in.” He didn’t meet Sasuke’s gaze as the detective entered and sat himself before Kakashi in silence, waiting for his boss to tell him what it was he had to say. They didn’t say anything for a long minute, and Sasuke was beginning to get impatient, when Kakashi sighed again and laid the pen he’d been using to write down and looked at Sasuke, who looked expectantly back at him. Uncomfortable, Kakashi cleared his throat. “...Sasuke-” he began in a voice that clearly resonated his discomfort, as did his ever-shifting posture in his black chair, “some of your coworkers are becoming concerned for you.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Sasuke said disinterestedly. Frankly he didn’t give a shit about what the other cops thought of him, and he wasn’t going to start. He crossed his legs and leaned back, putting a hand up to his mouth, his eyes blank with boredom, a perfect picture of indifference and apathy. Kakashi sighed again, a sound that was beginning to annoy the detective, and frowned at him.

“Well, that’s not really what I called you here to talk about,” he said almost reluctantly. This kind of stuff definitely made his job suck. Sasuke got a look of interest on his face, but so slight that the Captain didn’t notice. In fact he was trying to avoid the detective’s gaze and looked at his hands, folded in his lap. He cleared his throat again. “Sasuke,” he said, “listen. You might not want to hear this and by Kami, I don’t want to be the one saying it, but there’s things you’re doing that will get you fired.” This time he didn’t miss the look that came over Sasuke’s face. Surprise mixed with anger. “I know about your, ah, status,” he said, for a lack of a better word, and as Sasuke opened his mouth he quickly added, “I don’t mind, it’s not that that’s the problem, but it’s the suspect that is. That elementary school teacher. Uzumaki Naruto.”

Sasuke glared at Kakashi. “What about him?”

Kakashi opened his mouth, shrugged his shoulders, closed his mouth, then opened it again. “I know - well, I know that before he was arrested you had a... you went out with him a few times, and your relationship with him as a detective and suspect is highly unproffesional.” He wasn’t liking the almost murderous look on Sasuke’s face now and rushed to finish. “So I don’t have any choice, I don’t want to fire you but I’m taking you off the case.” He said it all in a whoosh of air and then sucked up some more, looking hesitantly at the angry detective.

To his surprise Sasuke seemed to have an almost blank look in his eyes. He shrugged, but, as he stood, Kakashi could see his jaw was tightly clenched. “Thanks, boss,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “But I’m not going to give up. Naruto isn’t the murderer, I know it, I’m going to solve this case with or without my badge.”

And with that he was gone, the door slamming derisively behind him. As it closed with a bang, the captain jumped at the noise, then slumped and sighed. He was getting too old for this. He pondered what to do about his unruly detective, but finally decided to leave him be - if he did anything to get in trouble, it couldn’t be blamed on the department, and if he solved the case, well, so be it. Satisfied, he leaned back and tapped his pen absently on the desk.

Chapter Six Part Two

The scratching sound of pen against paper was starting to drive him mad. Minute after minute, insistent scratching and scribbling pounded in his already filled brain and he fought off the urge to grab the damn pen and snap it in two. Instead Sasuke merely took a few deep breaths and tried to calm his impulsive and emotionally-driven desires. Bored, his eyes roamed the small office he was in. It had a couch, in which he sat in, with pretty flowered fabric, the type of plastic-feeling, happy and brightly colored fabric that made him queasy to look at. The wooden walls were bashfully bare except for a few certificates and he squinted to read the fancy calligraphied writing. A diploma, a few rewards. The only other furniture in the room was a desk, a comfortable leather chair, a waste basket, and a large computer on the desk. The woman sitting in the chair, still writing with that damn detestable pen with its neverending scrawl was pretty and lushly bestowed, but he was more interested in the pattern of the floor than the generosity of her curves and the tightly hugging shirt that clung to her slim waist. Her stockinged legs were long and leggy, her feet in high heels so high he marveled at them; it was like she was walking on stilts, the things were so high. Finally, the pen stopped its writing and she smiled at him, a pretty little curve of her full, red mouth that would make any straight man drool. He ignored it. “So -” he said, his voice clipped, short, to business. “What do you think?”

The woman - whose name started with an M, he thought, or was it an N? - consulted her lengthy notes that had taken her so long to write and answered in a soft, silky voice. “This man you speak of, he has a personality of being dominated. He is gay, true?” and at Sasuke’s short nod continued. “He is a very submissive uke, one who can be controlled, not unlike that of a small puppy wanting only to please a cruel master. He has been abused in the past.” Sasuke concurred. “You say he is delicate, almost feminime in posture, and is easily intimidated.” She took off her small, oval glasses that were perched on the edge of her nose and looked at Sasuke. “Although it is extremely rare here in Japan, it may or may not be possible your friend harbors another personality beneath the surface. People like of whom you describe need an outlet for their frustrations and anger, so they create an alternate personality to do it for them. Most of the time, when they are returned to their normal state of mind they can recall none of their alter ego’s actions or doings. They may or may not know they share a body with another, but when they do they try everything they can to take it over completely. But your Naruto -” she paused meaningfully and again looked at her notes. “Speaking from a personal and professional perspective, I believe that this Uzumaki Naruto does not harbor another personality.” Sasuke’s held breath whooshed out with relief. “But,” she continued, “I could always be wrong. The only real way to see if he has a split personality is to moniter his every movement, all of his attitude changes, and perhaps place him in situations that may force out the other personality.”

Sasuke nodded, most of his doubts alleviated, but not all. Like the psychotherapist had said, there was still a possibility that Naruto could have Gaara as an alter ego. Now that Kakashi had taken him off the case, that bastard (though he supposed it was a hell of a lot better than getting fired) he was here on his own time and money - and a psychotherapist costed a lot, especially to his meager detective’s salary. Whatever the hell that was. He nodded again, and got to his feet, stretching his legs that were beginning to fall asleep. Maybe that’s why these psychotherapists take so much time, he thought as he politely shook the woman’s hand, they can afford it at $50 an hour. He left with little answers and more questions, but still determined as hell to find the real murderer and clear Naruto’s name.

When he left, his wallet considerably emptier, he once again headed over toward Naruto’s apartment. It had been closed off to the general public as a crime scene and was boarded up, but as the lead detective in the case (but not anymore, he thought bitterly) he could get into it.

He stood in the silent and dark apartment and cast a glance around the room. This was what, his third or fourth time here, it had been thoroughly searched by several different people, and yet he was here again. But this time he was looking for something discreet - something so common no one would think differently of it - yet something that had the ability to smash someone’s skull in or drive the bridge of a nose into the brain.

The key, he knew, to solving this would be to find this so-called Gaara in person, linking him directly to the murders, and clearing Naruto. He couldn’t help but wonder what Gaara looked like - was he feminime and delicate, like Naruto was, or was he large and muscled, like the beefy detective he talked to? Something, he thought, something had to drive on that incredible strength, the speed and stealth in which he snuck upon his victims, the required complete lack of human consciousness - or maybe, he reveled in the hunt, in playing God, in knowing that he held a life in his hands... he grit his teeth. No way. Naruto wasn’t the killer, and he wasn’t harboring another personality, especially not one so... so monsterous. Into such a threat to mankind.

Chapter Seven
Part One

Gaara never felt so angry, never felt so completely fueled by fury he wanted to destroy and kill everything in his way living or dead. He roamed the streets of Tokyo with a attitude that, to a casual onlooker, would seem random and aimless, but his wanderings were far from being haphazardly and arbitrary. He trailed the detective Sasuke to and from work, to his visit to a well-known psychotherapist, to a visit to his and Naruto’s apartment. He knew they’d discovered the body behind the dumpster but hopefully they wouldn’t contribute it to the work of the killer of whom Naruto was under suspicion of at the moment. He tensed and followed the detective with his sharp gaze as he spotted the black-haired man cross one of the living-room windows, the heavy curtains he had utilized to keep away the surplus light seeping into the apartment that he abhored so much having been removed. He could see the man clearly, if only his upper portion as the high-rise was on the third story, as the detective’s coal black eyes scanned the room in search of something. He narrowed his own lusterous blue eyes, shining with a malice that would’ve made anyone close enough to him running for the hills. Thankfully no one was and he gazed up, his searing gaze burning into his adversary. As he watched the Uchiha pick up a small decorative sculpture and examine it, he felt tinges of white-hot fury fuel his blood in a way that was not unfamiliar to him. Knowing he needed to calm himself, he melted into the shadows, his movements like that of a cat’s, and into an adjacent alleyway facing the residence he and his brother had shared. A low growl emanated from deep within his throat that never made it out as he realized he wasn’t alone. Feeling the proverbial sense of adrenaline race through him, throughout his entire body he crouched down, a confident smirk coming unknowingly on his face as he viewed his prey. The thought of killing for useless purpose had long ago ceased to bother him, so long ago he doubted he ever had it at all; but when he’d realized what a rush he got from the hunt, from feeling warm, sticky crimson liquid on his hands and a body ceasing to function beneath him, he’d turned it into a game, into a distorted vision of his idea of fun. His malevolent eyes, long accustomed to picking out perfect targets, scoured the area, the surroundings, eliminating temporary distractions and passing them off as harmless so he could carry out his twisted mission uninterrupted.

This one was perfect - so, so perfect, he could feel the anticipation rising as the young, college-aged girl muttering and scolding quietly to herself hurried along the alleyway, not noticing the danger stalking her, and he waited till she was so close he could smell the strawberry shampoo she had used, wafting up to his nose. It was unpleasant to him but it did not quell his desire to see her dying before him.

Like a panther in the night, silently he struck. Perhaps he had misjudged the distance - perhaps she was more alert than he’d expected - but before his hands closed around her she had time for one brief, shrill shriek that rang in his ears like a song of bereavement before it died into a rattle of death. As she slumped into his arms, he glanced around him, evaluating the danger of someone hearing the girl’s last derisive call for help and decided he was in the clear. For now. He let her fall unceremoniously to the concrete floor with a sickening, muted thud of flesh against solid mass; he enjoyed that sound, the sound of flesh tearing, of ripping, the feeling of something small, beautiful in his hands to do as he wished, to crush, to kill. He allowed himself one small, triumphant smirk that rapidly dissapated as he heard footsteps. Glancing up sharply he saw a figure in the shadows - how ironic, this time the shadows, his shadows, were hiding the prey from the predator; a contour of a man making his way to him and what he had done.

As light fell - briefly - onto the face Gaara lifted his upper lip in a silent, anamalistic snarl and spun. Uchiha Sasuke had spotted him and now shouted: “Freeze! Police!” to which Gaara paid no heed, melting into the shadows as though he had never been there, the only proof to his existence, if at all, his handiwork of inhuman mercilessness.

Shit. The expletive never passed Sasuke’s lips as he saw the monster and the body. One look and he knew she was dead; it was classic of the serial killer. Thinking fast, he took off after the red-headed demon, never minding the fact that, amidst the shadows not only had he lost him, but he was putting himself in great danger as well. One hand moved to his waist and this time he swore aloud as he realized he no longer had his gun. Instead he felt his phone, the little digital thing he got for emergencies. He grit his teeth and said through them, his words surprisingly forceful: “I know you’re out there, you bastard. Do you know what you’ve done to Naruto? Huh? Do you?” He was taking a gamble, or would have been, if he hadn’t been so certain that this was indeed the infamous Gaara Naruto spoke so fearfully of; the red hair and the deep eyes darkened with mascara, those baby blue eyes that held so little compassion and so much desire to kill. Every one of his senses were hightened to the point of screaming; his heart was thundering in his ears and he seemed to be seeing white spots in his eyes. He blinked and squinted, dropping to a slight crouch. As the irony of the situation hit him he began to laugh, a low chuckle that reverberated throughout the alley loudly. “So,” he said softly, knowing full well Gaara could hear him, “How does it feel to become that which you have so passionately hunted, Gaara? The hunter becomes the hunted.” Unknowingly a full smile of something he wouldn’t have been able to recognize came over his face and, if someone had told him what it was he wouldn’t have believed them, but he had joined the hunt, he was experiencing the same symptoms Gaara did as he stalked. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins, white-hot and leaving destruction in its wake; he felt exhilarated, like he could do anything. And what sickened him the most - what would continue to sicken him, what he would never forget again - was that he enjoyed that feeling, he enjoyed being in control over something infinitely weaker, over something he could crush in his hands.

Only Gaara wasn’t weaker, and he couldn’t crush Gaara within his grasp. Now, as he spun, his peripheral vision catching something that moved, he raised his hand. Click. The flash of white was blinding and he shut his eyes, squinting and blinking as he raised his hands over his face for protection. Again, the shadows, doused once more with blackness, moved. Click. Click. Click. The alleyway became alight with lightning, only it wasn’t raining. He swore as something swooped past him, and another click filled his ears like it had been a bang; again the small area became awash with light. What’s happening? he thought wildly as everywhere around him seemed to be moving, almost dancing around him, and he dropped to his knees as a low laugh resonated through his consciousness with the force of an earthquake.

“How does it feel?” a raspy, hollow voice chuckled from - from somewhere, from everywhere, from inside of him - and again, that chilling laugh which wasn’t a laugh at all. “It feels... like I am God. It feels like I exist for a purpose, and that is to end the existence of others.”

You’re crazy, Sasuke thought distantly; he hadn’t realized he’d spoken it aloud till it left his lips and again, again, the laugh - that laugh that was making him go mad.... he was hearing things - this was Gaara, this was Naruto’s brother, this was... this was the killer. He wet his lips and this time the words came out, forceful, strengthened by something he couldn’t identify but one image was burning in his mind as he spoke. “You sick bastard. I will kill you for what you’ve done.”

“Will you?” the voice chuckled. “No. I don’t think you are capable of the duties given to me to end mankind. There are responsibilities, there are certain traits you must possess to become one of us.”

“Us,” Sasuke repeated, as though it was a mantra and he took a breath. “Who’s us?”

“Why, everyone who has the duties of a killer,” the voice said. “We are all one. We all have the responsibilies to quell the uprising population of these wretched beings that walk this earth and think they are better than their fellow beings.” He could hear the sneer in the voice.

“So,” he said tiredly, “It’s true. You really do exist. For a while -” he let out a whoosh of breath that sounded almost like a derogatory laugh, “For a bit I thought you were just a part of Naruto. In his mind. I thought... I thought he’d killed all those people.”

For a minute there was silence, then: “Naruto and I are one and the same. We are of the same blood, of the same womb, and nothing is closer than that. For what Naruto does, I do, and what I do, Naruto does. He killed them because I did; he is inside of me as I am in him. I am a part of him, a part of his mind, as he is a part of mine.” Another silence, this one thoughtful.
“But I do not approve, nor am I a part of, his love for you.”

Sasuke didn’t answer, shocked. Finally, when he could speak, he said dryly, “Well, that’s a relief.” Naruto... loved him?

“The stronger must survive because the weaker cannot rule,” the voice continued. “You are weaker, Uchiha Sasuke. And that is why I must mercifully end your existence here. This is where it ends. Naruto will never love you again.”

Colors exploded into Sasuke’s vision as something struck his head; hands, he thought remotely as the blow made him crash onto his side. The hands. They are so feminime, like they couldn’t hurt a fly, and yet the strength inside of them... Again his head became a myriad of colors as he was hit and he began to slip, mercifully, into blackness and the pain began to fade even as it throbbed, and he forcefully lifted his eyelids to glimpse a face, its eyes dark, its hair red as the blood pooling around him, before he slipped away into unconsciousness.

Chapter Seven Part Two


Red.


Awareness seeped in like the growing light of the day outside, bringing nothing he could comprehend and thus come to the conclusion that he was in no danger, but slowly Sasuke became aware of voices. At first he cringed, expecting the raspy, derisive voice of Naruto's brother, but presently he realized the voices were several, and among them was his captain's. He forced his eyelids open even though white burst across his vision and his retinas screamed in protest at the abuse. Immediately the voices became closer, soothing, comforting.


"Sasuke? Sasuke, are you awake?" Captain Kakashi. He screwed up his face as he tried to squint to see his boss. He caught a glimpse of white - white hair, more people. He felt as though he'd been in a train wreck and his head hurt like the fires of Hell. It hurt like someone taking ten knifes and slowly shearing away, replacing them for still more pain. Again he groaned as he tried to raise a hand, but he was too weak. It dropped next to him.


"The light," he managed through dry, cracked lips, and then the room went mercifully dark. He propped open his eyelids. "Kakashi..." he mumbled, his voice dry, his mouth feeling like cotton. "Where am I?"


"Hospital," his boss informed him, gently bringing a glass of water to the parched detective's lips. Sasuke drank gratefully. "Someone found you and a young woman in the alleyway

close to the suspect's house. The woman is dead."


"I have.... I have proof," Sasuke managed, "Proof. Naruto's not... the murderer. Not the killer - Gaara is..."


"Gaara?" Kakashi repeated, puzzled. "Who's Gaara?"


"Gaara," Sasuke murmured, then: "Proof. Gaara. Proof Gaara is murderer."


"Where is the proof, Sasuke?" Kakashi asked gently, laying a hand on Sasuke's immobile arm. Sasuke struggled to speak, but was obviously too weak, and Kakashi said, "Rest, Sasuke, just rest. I'll talk to you later." Quietly the man got up, trying not to disturb his detective too much, and left the room.


Sasuke opened his mouth - no - he had to clear Naruto's name. His head felt like every nerve was on fire, and he felt more exhausted than he ever had in his life, more than after hours of working out or running or training. He was weak as a kitten and his vision was blurry. Distantly he wondered how his head looked, what damage Gaara had done to it. Would he still be able to keep his job, be able to do the things he'd taken for granted? Or would his life be forever changed, perhaps confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life or....


He forced his mind away, to concentrate on something else. Something important. Gaara. Naruto. With difficulty he moved his hand over, to his side, feeling with numbed fingers. He would've cursed if he could have found the strength as he felt a hospital gown. Where was his clothes, his belongings? Where? His hand fumbled clumsily until he found a cool, plastic remote-like object in his hands and he pressed something, a little button, and a light blinked on. Sighing, he let his entire body relax, feeling his tensed-up muscles attempt to unwind. He closed his eyes, feeling as though he hadn't gotten sleep in a year, and inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Think, he told himself. Think. What happened after that?


He recalled, the panorama in his mind's eye as vivid as if it were being replayed before him, the events of that night. That night. He could see the monster - Gaara, as he was called - he could see him clearly, as he'd first spotted him through the window in the apartment, stalking the young girl. He'd bolted down the stairs and out of the building, not even bothering to lock up or even close the door to the suspect's apartment, but he'd still come too late. Even as he raced across the street, he heard her scream and he saw her slip from the monster's arms to fall limply to the pavement below. He'd cursed himself - damn stupid fool, if only he'd known.... but he knew it was too late for the woman, that poor woman, whose only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and instead concentrated on the fiend before him, shouting impulsively at him to freeze. But the inhuman thing had disappeared, vanished with the shadows as though he was a part of them and Sasuke, disregarding his own safety, had barralled after him, concerned only at catching this creep and putting him in a place where he would never kill again. He evoked the terror he'd felt, but then the complacent calmness that had taken over as he spoke to the darkness, spoke to the animal that lurked within its depths. Honestly he didn't know what came over him as he was talking; it was almost as though he was experiencing the thrill, the same adrenaline rush Gaara did as he played cat-and-mouse with his prey. Behind his seemingly-sleeping face, he grit his teeth. He would never forgive himself for that, for giving in to the temptation he had spent his career fighting against. And then they were talking. Jeering, really, at each other. And the words - those words falling from Gaara's mouth, they weren't from a normal, sane human being -


"Mr. Uchiha-san? Are you awake?"


Annoyed to be interrupted, he opened his eyes and cultivated a nasty reply to tell the concerned-looking nurse bending over him, but the retort failed to pass his lips. Instead he nodded. "I need," he said, trying to find the breath and the strength to speak, "My things. My belongings... my clothes."


"But why, Mr. Uchiha-san? You can't possibly be planning to checking out against medical advice," she replied, her pretty, large brown eyes wide with the trepidation that was apparent on her face. She was exceptionally pretty, with soft black curls bouncing around a pale face with high cheekbones and soft, pretty lips, but as usual he ignored appearances. At the moment, he ignored everything but the goal before him: getting his things back.


"I just need them," he told her. "Please. I'm not going to check out, I promise." He caught his breath. "I just need them. Everything. Make sure everything is there..." it was the most he'd spoken since awaking, and it was sapping his strength rapidly. "Please," he repeated in a near-whisper, his voice hoarse.


"Of course." The nurse moved discreetly away. "I'll be right back."


He waited with impatience, which struck him as rather funny because it looked like he was going to be here for a while anyway; he cursed himself for his stupidity. He'd been so, so close to catching the killer... and now look at him, stuck in a hospital bed, helpless. How many more had to pay before that degenerate was stopped? Checking out against medical advice was beginning to be a pretty good idea and he was composing his exit when the nurse returned, carrying a small cardboard box. Seeing her, he tried to lift himself into a sitting position, but collasped back, his arms unable to support him, and she rushed forward with a, "No, no, Mr. Uchiha-san... here, let me." She took the remote-like thing connected to his bed and pressed a button. The bed began to rise, only the top half, until Sasuke was in a comfortable sitting position. "Is that better?" she said, smiling at the man, who nodded and looked pointedly at the box. Getting the hint, she lifted out the objects for him to see. He recognized them all as she showed him: his pants, shirt, belt, socks, shoes, phone... she presented a last object, small and rectangular, and he took it, holding it in his palm and staring at it. It was still here. It was safe. He wasn't going to let it out of his sight until Kakashi returned and he could give it to capable hands.


Because, in his trembling palm, lay the only proof of Gaara being the murderer, or even existing at all.



A/N: Ha-ha, I leave you with another cliffhanger. I want to get 50 reviews for this story! Or more. That's my goal. Invincible is on Chapter Eight, but I have to say it's dying... because I've come up with at least three other different Naruto stories. They may all be posted or not, depending on if I ever get around to writing them. Lol. I've started one, a SasuNaru called Be My Whore, about them falling in love but they can't be together because Sasuke, as a traitor, has to find a wife in six months... so please look forward to that posting!!! Thank you and please review so I can update even faster. ^^ Yes, I'm bribing you. What're you gonna do about it? You can start by reviewing...

Well, hope you enjoyed!

SBP

Chapter Eight
Part One

Kakashi was staring at them with complete incredulity, Sasuke silent beside him but he could almost sense his detective’s apprehension. He didn’t speak for a long time, still taken by the panorama before him. “It’s not possible,” he murmured at last, at which Sasuke produced a small stack of papers.

“Further evidence,” he confirmed. “Criminal records as a child. It was hell finding them because they’re under the name of Sabaku Gaara, not Uzumaki, which was his name before he was adopted by Naruto’s father. He was a kid born to Naruto’s mother of another guy and Naruto’s father was kind enough to take him in.”

Kakashi took them almost numbly, skimming through the documentation, his disbelief growing. At one point he shook his head, and finally put them down. “I’m impressed,” he said at last. “I would’ve never...”

“Yeah.” Sasuke smiled incongruously. “I know, Captain, I know, I just feel like such a heel for getting myself into this situation.” He gestured at himself, still in the hospital bed, with barely concealed bitterness.

“Yes,” Kakashi hastened to assure him, “But you’ll be out of here tomorrow, remember?” At the recollection of Kakashi’s words, a light entered Sasuke’s eyes and he nodded. It was over a week since he’d been attacked by Gaara. Since then, he’d worked hard on regaining his strength and clearing Naruto’s name and, with hope, it looked like Naruto’s release was going to be very soon.

His gaze shifted to the projection on the whitewashed wall of the starchy hospital, showing a grainy picture of Gaara, the body of the woman behind him, as he moved around Sasuke. It was a good thing, he thought, he’d brought his little camera phone along and had the intuition to use it, because now he had proof of Naruto’s brother. In addition he had requested criminal records of one Sabaku Gaara at what Naruto had told him; his hunch had been correct. Gaara, as a fourteen-year-old, had stabbed his father in cold blood and laughed as his father died. He was uncontrollable in the institution he’d been placed in for three years and had an unmanageable anger problem. More than often he spent his years there in a drugged stupor. He was released on exceptionally good behavior, the courts having declared him as ‘sane’ enough to present himself back into society as a normal human being.

That was where it stopped - the institution, who regularly checked up on their patients, had lost track of him and his brother, and that was that. Nothing else. How long had Gaara been murdering people? Sasuke knew that Gaara would never be convicted for every crime he’d commited. Some of them would probably not even be pinned on him, and remain unsolved. But still, Sasuke would fight tooth and nail to see this danger to society put away for the rest of his miserable life.

He became aware of the fact he was scowling ferociously and Kakashi was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He looked up and offered the captain a bashful smile. “Just thinking,” he said, and the captain shook his head, returning his gaze to the projection.

“These are amazing,” he said. “We’ll be able to connect Uzumaki to the shirt and the piece we found on Yumato Kurio. He’ll probably confess to the others.”

“Perhaps,” Sasuke murmured, but he wasn’t convinced. In his opinion, getting a confession out of him was going to be like getting blood out of apples. He was going to be arrogant, most likely, he speculated, but sorry and repentive? No. He didn’t think so. Reminded of another matter, he said, “Captain, what about Naruto?”

The use of informal first name wasn’t missed on Kakashi, but he only shrugged. “He’ll be released, of course,” he answered, “Especially in light of these pictures.”

“How soon?” Sasuke said, just barely suppressing the impatience in his voice. Again his boss shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “But he’ll have to move. The apartment is under official investigation and it may continue to be for well over a year before we convict Gaara Uzumaki and send him to jail. So when Uzumaki-san gets out he’ll have to find another place to live. At least the school is letting him keep his job provided he is cleared of all suspicions, so that won’t be a problem.”

Sasuke nodded, barely listening, a tiny smile on his face.



“Naruto.”

The blonde, lost in thought, didn’t look up. Sasuke scowled and placed his hand over Naruto’s and repeated, “Naruto!”

Startled by the touch, wide, ocean blue eyes blinked up into dark ones and Naruto said, confused, “What?”

Sasuke gestured at the smaller man’s untouched plate. “You haven’t eaten anything,” he half-scolded. “What did they do to you in there, Naruto?”

“What? Nothing! I’m just happy to be out, is all,” Naruto smiled at him, closing his eyes, and Sasuke’s heart warmed up and he grinned good-naturedly back. The small restaurant they
were in wasn’t that crowded for lunch hour, for which Sasuke was happy, and they were alone in the dining area. Naruto had been released that morning, three days after Sasuke checked out of the hospital quite happily, and he’d taken the blonde to lunch for a sort of celebration. Now, he looked at Naruto and noted, not for the first time, the dark circles beneath the tired and rather dead-looking blue eyes. It made Sasuke happy to see him smile, and he could see Naruto’s ghost flitting around in the solemn face, which had grown concerned and guilty-looking. “By the way,” Naruto said softly, staring into the raven-haired detective’s dark orbs, “How is your head?”

Again Sasuke scowled - he had specifically told Kakashi he didn’t want Naruto knowing about Gaara attacking him, but of course the news got to him anyway. The guilt was apparent on Naruto’s sweet face and he knew the teacher blamed himself for what happened. His fingers tightened around the top of Naruto’s hand. “It’s fine,” he said firmly. “Really. Just a small scar.” It was relatively true - although the damage had been rather serious because of the amount of blood he’d lost, he wasn’t that bad to the point of having his head shaved and stitches in.

“I’m sorry,” Naruto muttered, lowering his eyes in a timid manner. “I mean, if only I’d known Gaara...”

“Stop it, Naruto.” Sasuke spoke loudly, firmly, and Naruto’s eyes sprang up to his with surprise, and he even earned a glance from a nearby waitress. He lowered his voice. “This isn’t your fault,” he said. “No matter what. Nothing you did could’ve prevented or caused what your brother did. Listen to me, Naruto,” as the man cast his gaze down, “You have to stop blaming yourself. No one else thinks it’s your fault. We’re going to catch Gaara, we’re gonna prosecute him, and you’ll never see him again.”

“I’ll have to move, won’t I?” Naruto muttered. Sasuke bit his lip.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “Naruto... until you do find a place, why don’t you come live with me?”

Again the blue eyes met his, resonating with shock, and the teacher was speechless. “I... can’t,” he said finally. “I’ll be imposing, Sasuke... I just can’t.”

“No, you won’t,” Sasuke hastened to assure him. “I live alone, remember? I need someone around the place. It’ll do me good and you need somewhere to stay. I’m not gonna let you check into some hotel for a month. Please.”

Naruto was silent, undecided, and then he said: “You’re sure I won’t be imposing?”

“Positive,” Sasuke answered.

“Well...” Naruto hesitated. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. Thank you, Sasuke.”

Sasuke only smiled, happily, and called for the check.

Chapter Eight Part Two
Warning: More Lemons!!!!


“This is where you live?” Naruto was looking at the run-down apartment with something like humor. Sasuke shrugged, his long legs scaling the few stairs in one jump, and opened the entrance door with a flourish.

“Yup,” he answered, and bowed with a mocking grin. “Welcome to my humble abode, Uzumaki Naruto.” Naruto entered the darkened hall and followed the detective up the stairs and to his own apartment, opening the maduro door - well-lighted, Naruto liked that - and for the first time he saw what the detective’s home was like.

The small area looked like someone had attempted to clean it a long time ago. Dirty clothes and dishes piled up everywhere and Naruto stared with raised eyebrows. The Uchiha was blushing - incredibly - but Naruto liked it. Maybe not the mess, or the tiny room you had to navigate, but he liked the happy atmosphere and the large windows opened to admit as much natural light as could manage. Most of the windows didn’t even have blinds. “I like it,” he said at last. “I like the ambience of it.”

At first Sasuke didn’t know what he meant, but when he mentally compared his apartment to Naruto’s clean, dark one, he realized the teacher had meant the atmosphere, the light, and he grinned again. “Yeah,” he said, tossing his keys on a counter that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a year. “So do I.”

Naruto set his bag down, holding the few belongings he’d managed to get, and sat gingerly on the couch, unsure of what exactly he was sitting on. It amused him to see the detective uncomfortable in his own surroundings. “I’ll clean it all up, I promise,” Sasuke said, but Naruto shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I’ll do it. I need to repay you, anyway, and I like cleaning.” He cast his glance around. “But it’s going to be a challenge,” he admitted, at which Sasuke laughed outright.

“You have work tomorrow, right?” Sasuke asked, and Naruto nodded. “It’s good you got to keep your job.” Naruto nodded again, and the two fell into a silence that Sasuke strove to end when he said softly, “Naruto. Your brother... will you tell me what he did to you?”

Naruto looked up at the detective, who came and sat next to the blonde, and looked at his hands. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Sasuke...”

Sasuke leaned forward, placing his lips softly on the teacher’s, and Naruto’s blue eyes shot wide open with surprise, then shut them tightly as Sasuke deepened the kiss and he moved slightly away, but didn’t pull away completely. His heartbeat was crashing in his ears - again, his feelings and thoughts were beginning to crowd his head. No, he thought, something isn’t right. This can’t be right. Gaara...

When Sasuke pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. “I’m not your brother,” Sasuke murmured huskily, “And I never will be. What he did is wrong, and I apologize for him. But this... Naruto, it isn’t wrong and there’s nothing you should be afraid of.”

Naruto raised his eyes to Sasuke’s and the detective was startled to see tears swimming in them. “You’re sure?” he whispered. “You’re sure that none of this is... wrong?” At which Sasuke grit his teeth, cursing Gaara for what he’d done to this sweet man who didn’t deserve what life handed to him...

“Positive.” He was kissing Naruto again, and he felt the blonde respond as his tongue gently touched Naruto’s and the body beneath him shuddered pleasantly. He’d intended for it to be short and sweet, just a tiny hint to Naruto of his feelings... now he felt the kiss deepen with hunger and a ferocity he knew he wouldn’t be able to control. Naruto was so trusting, so innocent... he was like a child being released into the cruel and harsh world with no experience. He wasn’t intending for this to go so far, he wanted to show Naruto little by little that there could be love without fear, life without Gaara... Naruto had wrapped his arms around Sasuke’s neck, pulling him ever closer, and Sasuke’s nimble, skilled fingers rapidly dipped inside his shirt, carressing the sensitive nipple that quickly hardened. He was rewarded with a light, childish moan. He allowed himself a small smile as he gently, slowly, lifted Naruto’s shirt up and froze. Naruto, confused, tried to sit up but Sasuke pushed him back down and tugged the shirt over his head. “Jesus,” he whispered.

Scars and bite marks riddled Naruto’s chest and shoulders, some healed, some not. Naruto, realizing what Sasuke’s shock had been for, turned his head away with an unreadable look in his eyes. He traced a still-healing bite mark on Naruto’s shoulder, making Naruto cringe with something obviously not unfamiliar to him - pain, Sasuke reasoned, or remembrance, or maybe embarrassment. Gaara inflicted these wounds, felt this weak and beautiful thing writhe beneath him, made him bleed, made him cry, gave him hope before he did it all over again. Someone whom he could call little brother with no irony. “Oh, Naruto,” he whispered, lowering his gaze as he tried to hide something he vehemenately denied weren’t tears, and a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m so sorry for everything he’s done to you.”

“Don’t do that.” Naruto’s voice, surprisingly forceful, made him look up. “You’re doing the same thing you told me not to do,” he continued. “Remember, Sasuke? You said not to blame it on myself because there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. Now you’re doing the same, you’re blaming yourself for what Gaara did to me.” He gave him a sweet smile. “So now I’m going to give you your own advice,” he said softly. “Nothing you could’ve done would have prevented this. Don’t feel guilty and don’t feel sorry, because the past is the past and I really have no intention of returning to it.” Sasuke stared quietly at him, wondering where this sudden show of strength came from, but decided not to think too hard about it. “A lot of things like this happened to me,” Naruto murmured, “But I don’t want you blaming yourself. That’s over and, as far as I’m concerned, never happened. Okay?”

A small smile slowly spread over Sasuke’s face. “Okay,” he answered softly, leaning down to kiss the small blonde beneath him. This time their tongues met with an equal desperation, a wanting both strove to meet; as Sasuke ran his tongue over Naruto’s he felt something, a small bump, maybe, and moved his tongue over it again. It was swollen, slightly. Yet another sign of what Naruto had gone through. He would’ve clenched his teeth, anger returning, but found it hard to concentrate or even think through kissing Naruto. His hands flitted along the small waist, the buttterfly-light touch making Naruto shudder and twitch. Both of them had become aroused - that much was obvious - but Sasuke wondered how far he should really go. Naruto was so scarred, he’d been through so many bitter experiences, what if Sasuke ruined their relationship, or Naruto began to view him as another Gaara, caring only of seeing him hurt...?

“Sasuke.” Naruto whispered, tugging at his arm. “Sasuke, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he answered softly. “I just....” leaving the sentance unfinished he sat up. Naruto did also and looked, confused, at the detective. “I...” he tried again, then shook his head. “I don’t want to see you hurt again,” he mumbled finally.

Naruto blinked at the raven-haired man next to him, then smiled. “Oh, Sasuke!” he said laughingly. “Is that what you think? By doing this you’re hurting me? No -” his arms slid around Sasuke’s waist and he put his chin on his shoulder, feeling the black hair brush his face gently. “I choose to do this,” he said, his voice tickling Sasuke’s ear. “And what I do with my body is of my own choosing. You won’t be hurting me. Trust me.” He nuzzled the side of Sasuke’s face. “The first time I saw you,” he said softly, “I knew there was something about you. You -” he let out a little laugh - “You and your partner, Sakura, you were questioning me. You were so beligerent, so cocky. I thought you were rude as hell. And then you asked me out. I was so worried that Gaara would come home, discover me gone, but I went anyway. I thought you were intruiging.” He paused then, a long significant pause. “I guess what I’m trying to say, “ he went on finally, “Is that I’ve loved you from the beginning, Uchiha Sasuke, and that anything you do is fine with me. In fact, you’ll be doing the exact opposite of hurting me.” He glanced with concern at the detective, who had been silent the whole of Naruto’s speech. Softly he touced Sasuke’s cheek. “Sasuke?” he said.

Sasuke turned to look at him. He was smiling slightly, a tiny curve of his lips that sent a shiver down Naruto’s spine. “Wow,” he said. “I never expected that from you.” A blush bloomed across Naruto’s cheekbones. “Yeah?” Sasuke murmured, twisting his body, “I’ve loved you a long time before I ever met you.” The puzzled look in Naruto’s wide blue eyes told him he didn’t understand, but frankly Sasuke didn’t care right then. Their lips met, and Sasuke ran a hand through Naruto’s spikey blonde hair as his other slid down. He sensed more than felt the tented area of Naruto’s loose jeans and his own raging arousal. His fingers found the jean button and undid it as Naruto’s own fingers did quick work of the buttons down Sasuke’s shirt. As he opened it, revealing Sasuke’s muscled, tone chest, he gasped rather than said, “I’ve never done this before.”

Sasuke paused and said, “What?”

“This.” Naruto blushed. “I mean, I’ve never wanted it before like this. Never.... participated like this.” His fingers splayed across Sasuke’s chest and he gazed innocently up into the dark black orbs, burning with desire. “It’s kind of fun,” he said in such a childish way Sasuke laughed, and he looked a little hurt at being laughed at. Sasuke caught Naruto’s hand with his own.

“Glad to see you having fun,” he growled down and Naruto giggled, then gasped as Sasuke’s hand slid inside of his jeans. For a split second, only a reflex, he cringed, and Sasuke yanked his hand back.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “Don’t stop. Please.” His fingers were playing on his chest, pleasantly tickling them. “You’re very pale,” he said, sounding concerned. Sasuke shrugged, his mood returning.

“I’m not much of a suntanner,” he answered, then let out a startled yelp as Naruto grabbed the edges of his shirt and, yanking down, pushed their lips together. Naruto laughed at the look in his eyes even as he kissed him, and Sasuke gave him a mockingly annoyed look. Again, his hand found itself at Naruto’s waist and, as he gently grasped Naruto, the blonde’s back arched enticingly, pressing their flesh close. Sasuke stroked him through the underwear and was rewarded with a moan, long and wild. With one movement he jerked the jeans and underwear down and the clothes pooled around his knees. Naruto was trembling slightly - from what, Sasuke didn’t know, but he didn’t let that faze him as he lightly trailed the length of Naruto’s erection. The blonde beneath him jolted and Sasuke bent to kiss him, this time to hear the little gasp of pleasure he let out. Naruto’s fingers dug into Sasuke’s forearms as the fingers gently stroked and carressed him, squeezing and manipulating with skilled knowing. The blue eyes were shut tightly, the teeth clenched, but it didn’t help to contain the gasping moan and the way his narrow hips pressed closer to Sasuke’s knowing touch, even as he tried not to. Seeing the conflict, Sasuke whispered, “Don’t try to fight it, Naruto, it’s only nature,” at which Naruto opened his eyes to look up at him, then a jolt ran through his body.

“It -” he gasped, unable to think, much less compose a sensible-sounding sentance with the breathless sensations building up inside of him, “I--” He cut himself off to utter a long, loud cry, and Sasuke felt something warm in his hand.

“See?” he mumbled with a smile. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

Naruto could only incoherently shake his head, still taken by the aftershocks of his orgasm, probably the first he’d ever experienced without pain, and with his full consent. It was almost like dating a high school student, Sasuke mused distantly. A used, spent high school student who had been taken advantage of far too many times. He wiped off his hand on the couch cushion and didn’t wonder how he was going to get it off later, didn’t care. He had eyes only for the blonde beauty beneath him, sprawled out, nude, vulnerable and yielding. It made his blood burn with aspiration, with a yearning that matched Naruto’s in scope.

There was a rustling of cloth, and a moment later Naruto felt something infinitely hard against his opening and his eyes fluttered open to look into Sasuke’s dark ones, filled with lust and intentions. Naruto didn’t protest. Instead he pulled the detective close, his body stiffening slightly as Sasuke entered him, ever gently. So different from Gaara’s harsh and painful love. So different... he bit back a moan as he was penetrated with agonizing slowness, his shaft rubbing against Sasuke’s warm, flat stomach. As delicious as it felt to plunder Naruto’s endlessly hot and tight depths, Sasuke couldn’t resist stopping to watch the blonde’s sweet face. Completely different from the frightened, timid look of before, Naruto’s face was set in lines of pleasure so intense it could’ve been mistaken for pain if not for the ever-desperate moans. Involuntarily Naruto’s legs wrapped around Sasuke’s thin waist, pulling him ever closer as the pounding sensation brought them both to the same inevitable conclusion.

With a grunt Sasuke shoved in hard, and from deep within him Naruto felt a white-hot boiling sensation, so deep he felt he could cough it up if he really tried. The two stayed that way, Sasuke’s weight driving the smaller man into the cushions, before Sasuke quietly pulled out, leaving Naruto with the old empty feeling, and collapsed next to him. They were silent, aside from the heavy breathing in the apartment. Naruto was a bit squashed between Sasuke and the back of the couch, but he didn’t mind. Finally Sasuke rolled over and looked at the teacher, whose eyes were closed, and wondered if he was sleeping. Naruto opened his eyes, his dazzling ocean-blue eyes that blinked up at Sasuke, and smiled. Suddenly unable to breath, Sasuke grinned, if only to hide the fact that Naruto had taken his breath away.

“I think I’m going to like it here,” Naruto whispered.

Sasuke, staring down at the small blonde man he’d fallen in love with, said softly, “I’m going to love it.”

Chapter Eight Part Three


“Gooooooood morning, Kakashi.”

Suspiciously, the silver-haired boss raised his head at the euphoric detective who gave him a friendly slap on the back, sending papers jolting from his hands and fluttering on the floor.
“My, aren’t you in a good mood,” he observed dryly as he bent to pick up the escaped documents.

“Hell yes.” Sasuke grinned. “I think we’re going to catch the bastard.”

“Who, the killer?” Kakashi said blankly. Sasuke sighed elaborately, so put-on it earned a barking laugh from his rather stressed boss. “What makes you say that?”

“I talked to Naruto,” Sasuke said, adopting an evasive tone that informed Kakashi he was probably hiding more. “He gave me a little tip where we can find his brother.” With a flourished movement, he produced the criminal record of Gaara Uzumaki and waved it in front of the annoyed-looking captain, growing tired of his detective’s antics and plain happy mood. He hadn’t gotten too much sleep the night before. “The institution he was at as a child,” Sasuke said, laying the papers down. “He’s probably there. Naruto’s ninety-nine percent certain of it.”

“Did you two have a good time yesterday?” Kakashi teased good-naturedly. “You took him out to lunch, didn’t you?”

Sasuke shrugged, then nodded. “Yup.” He wasn’t going to tell him about the arrangement they’d agreed on. Not yet.

“What did you two talk about?” Kakashi continued in a rather smug voice, one that made Sasuke frown with puzzlement and annoyance. Now who’s happy, he thought. He recalled briefly the fact that, maybe at one point in time, his boss had been somewhat of a pervert; of course his age was catching up to him, he really couldn’t be serious, could he? To want to know about him and Naruto... undecided, he was silent. Kakashi did not give in. “I heard a rumor,” he said with a wink, capturing Sasuke’s attention and anticipation, as well as demands to know what, exactly, rumor.

“What the hell?” Sasuke demanded. “What rumor? Kakashi!”
His boss merely shook his head, smiling his same smile, infuriorating his detective more. “Go check out that lead you’ve got,” he said instead; “Would you like someone to go with you?”

Momentarily Sasuke paused, and was consumed by memories of Sakura, her smile, her bright mind that so belied her young appearance. Swallowing pain and sorrow, he numbly shook his head. “No thanks, Kakashi.”

He left silently, a far cry from the euphoric man of only minutes ago. Watching his back retreat, Kakashi sighed, wondering if it was really smart to let Sasuke do this alone. But he’s not alone, he hastened to assure himself; he’s got Uzumaki Naruto, right?

Thus reassured, the captain returned to his paper-adorned desk and stared mournfully at the mounds of paperwork he had to do, and resigned himself to a boring day.


Sasuke glanced at the clock in his black car; the digital numbers read past eleven o’clock. He unfolded a map, his eyes immediately picking out the route he’d drawn earlier that morning, and mentally estimated how long it would take. Hn. An hour to get there, perhaps one to two hours of searching, an hour back. He should be back around three or four in the afternoon. Unknowingly, a smile spread across the pale features of the raven-haired man, thinking of the blonde locks and azure eyes that had so captured his heart. Humming a little, he shifted into gear and left the parking structure. He would stop by the apartment briefly, leave Naruto a message telling him where he was going. No; he decided, as an afterthought. It may worry him, but he should be back by the time Naruto got off work, right?

Torn, he remained undecided until he reached the apartment and thought, What the hell. Why not? He scrawled out a note on a sticky pad, slapped it by the phone with his cell number, and grabbed a similar piece of paper, stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet, holding both Naruto’s own cell phone number and his number at work. He left, began to lock after him, then stopped, remembering he hadn’t given Naruto a key yet. Shrugging, he put his key in his pocket and left the door unlocked. It could wait for a little while, couldn’t it?

Taking the stairs two-by-two he began to whistle as he got into his car, inserting the key into the ignition and, at the same time, flipping open his phone. He glanced skeptically at the cracked screen and scuffed look; it had not passed unharmed in his little scuffle with Gaara. He would get a new one, he reasoned, as soon as he got his next paycheck. He dialed Naruto’s cell number as he skillfully manuevered into the street with one hand and hit the call button. Moments later, a cheery ring filled the car and startled, he glanced behind him. No one there. The ringing persisted and confused, he stopped the car. He heard Naruto’s chirpy voice telling him to leave a message and, not paying attention, he snapped the phone shut. The car was silent aside from the revving engine. He redialed the number. Once again the ring resonated throughout the car. He placed it in park and twisted his body out of the driver’s seat, sitting himself on one of the back seats and then looking underneith the seats. A flashing blue light caught his attention under the passenger seat. Naruto’s phone. He fished it out, reading the two missed calls indication and he scowled, puzzled. Had Naruto left his phone in his car and if so, when? He didn’t recall any opportune moment for Naruto to have dropped his phone or forgotten it... Shrugging, he opened the back door, still holding both phones, and got up front, placing Naruto’s phone on the dashboard. He contemplated going back to the apartment and dropping it off, but, he figured, screw it. He wouldn’t be gone too long. He began to drive again as he called the school. This time a woman’s voice, high and a little breathless, answered.

“Tokonito Elementary, how may I help you?”

“Uzumaki Naruto, please,” he said briefly, flicking on his blinker after a glance at the opened map, propped against the passenger’s side, told him to turn. The woman told him to wait a moment, and the ever-annoying, crappy hold music that actually creeped him out a little - though he never told anyone - carried sharply through the tiny speakers. Rather repulsed, he held the phone away from his ear until he heard a voice. With anticipation he returned the phone to his ear and said in a barely surpressed tone of happiness: “Naruto?”

A pause. Then, “I’m sorry, Uzumaki Sensei is unavailable to come to the phone at this time.” Disappointment surged through him. It’s fine, he reassured himself, Naruto’s just busy.
“Would you like to leave a message?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Please tell him I’m going to North Tokyo for a little while to visit a... relative of his and I’ll be back by the afternoon.”

Yet another pause, and he heard a scribbling of a pen. “Thank you,” said the woman. “I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks.” He flipped the phone shut and tossed it disinterestedly onto the dashboard, where it clattered next to Naruto’s. Finding the sudden silence repressing and unnerving, he cranked up the volume to the radio and sang along softly to the rock music that blared through. He wondered if Naruto liked rock music and resolved to ask him that when he got home that day.

That day... again reminded of the task that lay ahead, he wondered if Gaara was really going to be there and, if so, what was he going to do? The second that thought passed through his mind he laughed incredelously. Jesus Christ. Here he was, a detective, wondering what he was going to do if he found the murderer, and had evidence to prove it to. He was going to put the bastard in jail, he told himself firmly, and for a very long time too.

And not just for what he did to those girls... an image of Naruto’s chest, dotted with scars and bite marks, made his blood burn and his knuckles to whiten on the steering wheel. Everything that poor man had been through... he didn’t deserve what life - no, Gaara - handed to him. It just wasn’t fair, for one man to go through all of that without anyone to lean on, without ever summoning up the courage to stand up to his brother alone. Until now. Now, he told the image of the smiling face in his mind, now I’m here for you. I’ll never leave you, Naruto, not ever. Especially when that monster is loose.

Never.

Chapter Eight Part Four


“Hn.”

Nothing else emanated from the the usually soft, smiling lips that were drawn tight with thought and anger. Black hair rippled softly in the breeze, and Sasuke’s long, thin fingers reached up to his face to brush the offending lock of hair out of the way of his onyx eyes as he gazed up at the large stone building. Impressive, he thought. It could almost pass for a respectable university, aside from the near-deserted look. It didn’t look like a loony bin at all. He glanced at the sign adjacent to the road winding up to the estate that read in fancy letters, “Haruki Jaisumoto Psychiatric Ward, N. Tokyo”. Satisfied, he walked up to a heavy oak door and banged generously on the brass knocker carved to resemble a mask of sorts. He could hear the hollowed sound reverberate sharply throughout the structure; as he listened carefully he became aware of detached voices, scuffling, the sounds of life. Moments later, the door swung open partway to reveal a woman, her pale, stringy blonde hair uncombed, her piercing blue eyes heavy with bags beneath them. Her voice was hard, impatient, and the sight of a handsome, well-dressed and professional-looking man standing before her didn’t faze her one bit.

“Yeah?” she said, the door open wide enough only for her face to peer through.

Swallowing impatience, Sasuke questioned: “Is there a man by the name of Uzumaki Gaara here, by any chance?”

An unreadable light entered her eyes and she took a moment to answer. “Uzumaki Gaara,” she said slowly, as though testing the syllables on her tongue. “I remember him.” She shook her head. “But you’re off about fifteen or twenty years, buddy. That kid... must be thirty or so now, huh? He was only a kid - a teenager - when he was here.” Again, a shaking of her head. “Man, was that boy crazy. A one-of-a-kind crazy, if you know what I mean, and that’s hard to come by. Most of these crazies are so predictable it’s almost boring, but that kid... that kid was evil.”

Sasuke blinked. “Well, uh,” he said, fishing for words, “He’s missing. Gone. I thought he’d came by here at all, so I wasn’t sure if I should check.”

He was startled to see fear register on her stoic visage. “Missing?” she repeated in barely a whisper. “Someone that dangerous, and he’s missing?!”

Uncertain, he remained silent. Was she blaming him directly? It certainly sounded like it. At a loss for what to say, he instead uncomfortably shifted his weight. “Yes,” he admitted, finally. “We’re doing our best to catch him.”

The doubt was apparent in her tired blue eyes. “No,” she said with a sigh. “You’ll never get him. He might be evil, that kid, but he’s a genius too, and when he doesn’t want to be caught, he won’t be.”

“Well, he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” Sasuke replied grimly. Ever dubious, the woman shook her head.

“Good luck, mister,” she muttered. “Believe me, you’ll need it.”

“May I search these grounds?” he questioned, earning a nod from her.

“Do what you want. Just... catch the prick,” came her reply, and shut the door. Sasuke blinked at the abrupt dismissal, then shrugged and stepped back, casting a sweeping gaze over
the grounds. It couldn’t have been any bigger than only a few acres. It wouldn’t take long. He glanced at his watch. Nearly one. Suppressing a sigh, he began to methodically search, checking everywhere. So he would get home a little later than intended; Naruto wouldn’t mind.

As he peered around every bush, circled every tree, searched every nook and cranny of the outlying buildings, the conversation of the night before resurfaced in his mind. They’d been lying together, saying nothing, simply content to be with one another, when Naruto spoke.

“I think I know where Gaara could be,” he said suddenly, startling the raven-haired detective, who propped himself up to look at the smaller man.

“Do you?” he questioned. At Naruto’s hesitant nod he pressed further: “Where? How do you know?”

“I think it’s at Haruki Jaisumoto,” came the blonde’s answer. “It’s the psychiatric ward he was at when he was a child. He used to go there regularly for check-ups, but stopped suddenly a while ago. One time when he was gone, I called the ward, and they said he came by. There’s something about that place that calms him, I think. Whenever he goes there I can tell, he’s so much calmer, more patient.”

Sasuke nodded with understanding. “And you think he’s there now?”

“I’m almost positive,” Naruto affirmed. “I think he’s there. No; I know it.” He raised cerulean blue eyes to meet veiled onyx ones. “Sasuke, I’m frightened,” he whispered suddenly, earning a look of concern from the detective. Wetting his lips he forced himself to continue. “Gaara’s still out there,” he said, a small tremor entering his hesitant voice. “As long as he is, he could still come back and - he could still kill.”

Sasuke felt anger boil inside of him as he lovingly embraced the teacher, promising grimly, “I’ll never let him touch you, Naruto, do you understand? He will never, ever lay a finger on you as long as I am alive to protect you.”

“But he can hurt you,” the smaller man whispered. “Like what happened... -”

“That was my fault,” Sasuke replied roughly. “I let my guard down. It won’t happen again, Naruto. I promise.”

Again, as wide, trusting blue eyes met his he was struck at how childish this man was, how inexperienced and how incredibly scarred he was. How could someone go through everything he did, Sasuke marveled, and still come out with the innocence of a ten-year-old?

He realized he’d been standing still, lost in thought, looking like an idiot for probably ten minutes. Snapping to reality, he resumed his search. There were only a few buildings aside from the main one, the one he had knocked on the door of; he was pretty sure that was the ward. Peering through the windows of a much smaller building made of the same brick, he realized this was a supply room, full of medical supplies, cots, gowns, etc. The noonday sun eliminated most of the shadows, but not all. After he was satisfied the small building was devoid of human occupancy, he moved on. The next was a good-sized garage; employee’s parking, he reasoned, and once again made sure no one was inside before moving onto the last building. It was empty. Completely bare aside from cobwebs and years of thick dust. He cast one last look about him; the grounds were beautiful, for a psych ward. A small creak splashed its way behind the main building, and several willows and long grass dotted the crick. He walked up to the gurgling stream and stared into the crystal blue water - which was surprising, considering this was still Tokyo. He saw his reflection in the water. Black hair, black eyes, pale skin. Flawless face. He frowned at his reflection and the apparation repeated the action. Naruto... he thought.

A low chuckle, throaty and hauntingly familiar, made his heart skip a beat. “So,” a voice said, low, laughingly, “You survived. I’m impressed.”

“Gaara.” He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He sighed, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head and in his ears. “I’m not here to impress you,” he said, his voice hard, harsh. His hatred, his anger, was conveyed in his voice and again Gaara chuckled - a derisive sound, sending chills down Sasuke’s spine. “I’m here to make you pay for what you did to Naruto.”

“Apparently last time was not enough,” the voice murmured, seeming to come from behind him, from ahead of him, from above him.... from inside of him. “You are weaker, Uchiha Sasuke, and as such are unfit for this world. Wasn’t our last meeting enough to show you that?”

“As long as I am alive I will never give up fighting you, Gaara,” he snapped, turning for the first time, anger distorting his face into something not unalike that of his companion. For the first time he saw Naruto’s brother clearly, unaffected by shadows, leaning against the trunk of a willow gently swaying in the breeze. Blue eyes heavily marked with mascara stared maliciously at him, and short spiked hair the color of crimson blood lay in every which way. His body was lean, muscled, his arms crossed across his chest with a confidence Sasuke didn’t come close to matching. Anger, sure. But now he wondered if he could really take this homicidal maniac on, not without sacrificing his own life in payment. The black-edged eyes narrowed mockingly at him as Gaara seemed to read his mind.

“Afraid of death?” Gaara sneered tauntingly. “Such a human weakness. Death is only a continuance of existence. If you wish to kill me, you are merely speeding up the process of which I will be deported to the netherworlds. You will never stop me, nor any of my kind. We are... gods in our own ways.”

“The only thing you are god of is your own sick mind,” Sasuke retorted sharply. He was so angry he couldn’t see straight. That earned him a laugh, a jeering sound that held little humor and no good intentions. Sasuke could tell by the intensity underlying the blankness in the blue eyes that Gaara was planning something horrible, terrible, something that would make him scream as he died. No. What was he thinking? He controlled his own destiny. He was not going to be killed by someone who believed he controlled the world with his bare hands, who believed that he was a god. He grit his teeth and, at his side, his hands balled tightly into fists.

“Human anger,” Gaara noted monotonously. “Another weakness, one that will get you killed. Especially in light of an opponent such as myself.”

“I’m honored,” Sasuke sneered sarcastically. “You’re going to die today, Gaara.”

“Don’t be so certain, Uchiha Sasuke. You are only human, after all,” came the reply, devoid of emotion. With that Gaara attacked - so fast it was in the blink of an eye that he was standing there, talking, and the next instant he was speeding toward the bewildered detective with murder shining in his eyes; Sasuke heard the resonating crack a split second before unbelievable pain exploded in his head, obscurring his vision and affecting his balance.

“...Ugh,” he groaned, doubling over, finding nothing to lean on as he lost his balance and blood flowed freely down his head, staining his pale skin. He swooned - this pain, he couldn’t bear it - the formidable manifestation of Gaara, smirking down at him, became two and blurred; a low groan escaped his lips. Gingerly he touched the side of his head and his fingers came away wet, red. His skull felt like it was on fire. Abruptly he remembered - painful as it was to think - he remembered the precaution he’d taken, thinking of their last meeting, and his fingers clumsily fumbled for the firearm at his side. Gaara made no move to stop him and instead chuckled.

“You think such a primitive weapon can stop something like me?” he jeered as Sasuke brought his hand round; but his target blurred and he didn’t know which Gaara was the real one. Damn him! Damn his weakness, his human emotions... Randomly his finger began to squeeze the trigger as he wildly hoped he would hit something on Gaara, anything at all, before the gun was ripped from his trembling hands and clattered several yards away. He dropped to his knees and Gaara took his time getting the firearm. “Such a useless weapon,” Gaara observed, inspecting the metal as though it was a paper clip. “But not so useless used against your own kind, hmm?” Sasuke felt his blood run cold as the barrel pressed against his
head, the uninjured side, and he began to pray behind closed lips and eyes. Naruto... I’m so sorry.

He heard the nearly inaudible squeak of Gaara pulling the trigger as clear as the shot that followed as he twisted up, his leg kicking out involuntarily. Pain, even more pain than what was centered in his head, blossomed through his arm and he collapsed. The grass beneath him became a sickly dark mixture of brownish-red and green, and his onyx eyes slowly blinked at the blades of auburn. Gaara cursed, a sound that was oddly muffled, and then he felt hands around his neck, slick from the crimson liquid bathing him. The fingers began to squeeze and his breath was cut off; he had the odd, detatched thought of Gaara’s hands, unbelievably strong for digits so thin and delicate. A tiny smile twitched on the detective slowly slipping away, a smile of bitterness.

Then, suddenly, the hands were gone and he could breath; painful as it was his body forced him to gasp, coughing and choking, and he managed to look upward. Gaara was looking away, prey forgotten for the moment, and as Sasuke saw what had captured his attention his heart felt as though it had stopped.

“Naruto,” he breathed, coming out more of a groan as the small blonde, his hands shaking madly, cast a wild glance at the black-haired man doused in his own blood. The gun in his hands shook like it was being vibrated, the unsteady barrel aimed at the one who had caused him so much pain for all of his life. Gaara’s confidence had returned. This was his brother. He could control him with a look from his blackened eyes. A small smirk passed his lips.

“Naruto,” he softly repeated the detective, his voice like honey. “Naruto. I missed you.” He took a step forward and the blonde backed up, nearly dropping the weapon in his nerveless, numbed grasp.

“S...Stay away f-from me!” he stuttered, terrified, his tear-filled blue eyes darting from his brother to the form of the detective on the grass. Something about seeing his lover lying like that gave him strength. He jerked wildly with the gun. “I said s-stop, Gaara!”

“You think you can kill your own brother, Naruto?” Gaara purred. “I am not the one you should be frightened of. I love you. It is this man here-” he gestured at Sasuke’s motionless form, “-that you should kill. He is undeserving of your love. He hurt you.” He moved with terrifying quickness. “I am the one you love,” he hissed, his face dangerously close to Naruto’s, the gun forced to lower in Naruto’s trembling grasp as Gaara pushed himself up to his brother. “I am not the one you should be fighting!”

Naruto was crying, his face twisted in pain as silvery tears tracked down his face, sobbing with uncontrollable frenzy. “You- you -” his words were rolling together as he himself couldn’t even hear them straight; but his mind was in a jumble and that was all he could manage. Barely suppressing a smirk and a ‘hmph’ of disgust, Gaara left his brother and walked back to Sasuke. Naruto didn’t even know if his lover was breathing, didn’t know if he was dead, but he cried out as Gaara unceremoniously jerked the Uchiha up by a thick lock of his raven-colored hair. Naruto’s tears came faster and harder as he saw his beloved’s face, mottled with blood and ugly bruises, one eye half closed, but it was apparent he was still alive. He winced - or tried to - as Gaara jerked again on his hair, half lifting him.

“You see this?” he said, his voice cold, harsh. “You see what happens to weak humans when you let them control you, Naruto? They die. This fool tried to hurt you, tried to control you, and this is how he is going to pay.” He directed his icy gaze to the weapon in Naruto’s hand. “Finish the job, Naruto.”

“N-no, Gaara!” his brother cried out, holding the gun away from his body as though it was poison. “P-please don’t!” he continued to plead in vain as Gaara gave yet another yank to the detective’s hair, hauling the body upwards as though it was a sack of potatoes. Sasuke groaned and Naruto cried out again, but he was too afraid to do anything. “Put him down!” Naruto screamed. “Gaara!”

“Finish the job, Naruto!” Gaara yelled forcefully. “Kill this pathetic human. He is keeping us apart, preventing us from being happy! Separating us when we should rightfully be together!” Still Naruto did not comply and he narrowed his eyes dangerously at the shaking blonde. “Naruto,” he said calmly, which only served to frighten the small man more, “If you won’t finish what you started he will die slowly and painfully. He will scream until the pain becomes to much to bear. He will beg to die.” He let the limp body drop with a muted thud, and a sickened expression mixed with numb fear spread over Naruto’s sweet features. “Do you want that to happen, Naruto?”

Naruto shook his head, slightly at first, then harder. “N-no, Gaara.”

“Then kill him.” He directed his gaze at the detective, who was trying to roll over on his back, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Pull the trigger, Naruto, and kill him. Finish what you have started.”

Slowly, the hands began to raise, holding the gun unsteadily as Naruto, still crying, pointed it in Sasuke’s direction. Gaara grinned.

“...Naru...to...” Sasuke groaned as he flopped onto his back. “Nar...u...to....”

Naruto clenched his teeth tightly together with his brother’s voice dancing in his head. Gaara.... he thought. For you, Gaara... and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Nine
Part One

**
ICU - intensive care unit
IV - intravenous
Code - when someone stops breathing or responding



“...was presumed killed almost a week ago when he was hit with a bullet in the chest. Police are still investigating the shooting, which happened at Haruki Jaisumoto Psychiatric Ward in North Tokyo last Tuesday. He was taken to East Tokyo’s district hospital, where he was announced dead on arrival from loss of blood.”

Sickened, Naruto switched off the TV. Didn’t these people have anything better to do than report grisly murders? he wondered as he settled back into the comfortable tan plush chair. The smell of disinfectant was tickling his nose, although not too much to be bothersome, and the humdrum of nurses’ squeaky shoes, phones ringing, and people talking comforted him. He’d never really been in a hospital before, much less a huge one like East Tokyo’s district hospital, and the hallways and mazes made him dizzy, so much so that he had to get a map of the grounds and still, nearly a week later, hadn’t figured out how to get from the parking structure to the seventh floor without help. He’d memorized the route to the ICU immediately, however; he didn’t like it there, with all the mortally sick patients, the pictures of what used to be human beings with IVs dripping from scrawny arms and an occasional code. He always made a beeline for the twelfth bed, where another ghost of a human being lay, pale even against the stark white sheets, IVs dripping from his arms and his small, thin body covered so it barely made an indent.

Naruto picked up a brush with soft bristles off the dresser and began to brush the raven hair gently, running his fingers over the bald area where nearly twenty stitches had to be sown in. Sasuke’s face was almost healed of the bruises, his head nicely healing. He was moved out of ICU a few days after he’d been admitted and, on the third day, regained consciousness for the first time after he’d fainted. After Naruto had shot Gaara.

His blue eyes rested on Sasuke’s pale, sleeping form, nestled in pillows, surrounded by get well soon cards. Smiling tenderly Naruto gently brought the mussed sheet up to Ssauke’s chin and then, to his surprise, the onyx orbs opened as dark slits.

“Naruto?” his beloved murmured, catching his wrist. Naruto bent close, happy to see him awake. “Where am I?”

Naruto’s grin faltered. He’d been told before where he was. He’d been told before what happened. All the nurses knew that it was very well possible the Uchiha could have suffered brain damage, could have lost some memory, maybe even relearn some skills. But that was at its worse, they assured the small, timid man whose only concern was for the broken beauty looking so small and helpless. Only at its worse...

Blinking sudden tears from his eyes, Naruto affectionately squeezed the pale hand. “You’re at the hospital,” he told the detective. “Remember? You’ve been here for about five days now.”

“Oh.” Sasuke fell back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Naruto, thinking he had gone back to sleep, began to softly disengage the Uchiha’s grip but was stopped when it tightened. “I remember,” the raven-haired man mumbled at last. “I remember Gaara... bastard.”

Naruto smiled through his tears. Bastard was right. “He’s dead,” he said sadly. “I shot him, Sasuke.”

“I know.” He let his tensed muscles relax and didn’t open his eyes, but he didn’t loosen on Naruto’s hand either. “You did good,” he murmured to the small blonde man without looking at him. Naruto sniffled, trying like hell not to cry, because it was embarrassing and he didn’t want anyone to see... what the hell. Laying his blonde locks on the Uchiha’s shoulder he let his tears soak through the thin hospital gown, and Sasuke’s arms went around him the best they could, considering an immediate wave of pain excrutiated his left arm as he lifted it, but he managed to put his arms around the small man anyway. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, face pressed into the blonde hair. “I’m sorry I failed you, Naruto.”

Startled, Naruto drew back, wiping away the tears. “Failed?” he echoed. “What do you mean, failed?”

Sasuke didn’t answer. Instead he fixed Naruto with a stern gaze and said: “What the hell were you doing there, Naruto? I thought you were still teaching.”

Naruto flushed and fumbled for words. “Uh, well,” he stammered. “I, uh... I kind of hid in your car. I’m sorry!”

Sasuke closed his eyes and smiled, making the blonde blink at him. “So that’s why your phone was in the car.”

Naruto flushed again and grinned. “Yeah, that was a little bit stupid of me. I was hiding behind the back seats, since your car doesn’t really have a trunk.”

“A little,” Sasuke murmured, and opened his eyes. He grasped the smaller man’s sleeve gently and pulled him close, inhaling the teacher’s scent before softly kissing his startled lover, who made a small sound of protest before kissing him back. A hand slipped behind Naruto’s head to pull the blonde closer.

“Sasuke,” the smaller man murmured when they finally broke away. “They did surgery on your head. You’ve got about twenty stitches.” There was nothing registering on that pale face that was set into a stony blankness, nothing Naruto could read or identify in the blank orbs of darkness. Softly a hand reached up to touch Sasuke’s bare head, to carress the area devoid of soft black locks. “You’re bald here,” he whispered, mentally begging the expressionless Uchiha to speak, to act as though he’d heard Naruto.

Finally Sasuke spoke. “I don’t care,” he said roughly. “Doesn’t matter what happened to me. Were you... did he hurt you, Naruto?”

Relief flooded through the teacher as he realized that Sasuke had only been concerned for him, had frankly not given a crap to know his head had to be partially shaved or that he had twenty stitches or that he could’ve had some memory loss. “No, Sasuke. He didn’t touch me.”

From the way he went limp it was apparent Sasuke was relieved, too. “Good,” he murmured. “Thank Kami.” He raised his eyes to meet cerulean ones. “When am I getting the hell out of here? How bad am I, anyway? Has Kakashi been here at all?”

Naruto laughed, part to alliviate his nervousness, part because he was just plain happy Sasuke seemed to be getting better. “Well,” he said more soberly, “I don’t really know when you’re getting out of here.” He giggled at Sasuke’s face, which immediately darkened at that. One hospital visit, much less because of Gaara, was more than enough. “Thankfully nothing really really serious happened - he didn’t break anything, but you lost a lot of blood because of the head wound and you were shot in the shoulder, so we did a blood transfusion. But, other than that, you’re fine.” He didn’t mention what the nurses had told him about Sasuke having permanent brain damage. He didn’t want to think about that and besides; Sasuke seemed perfectly fine, didn’t he? “And yeah, your boss - and a lot of other people - came by.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured toward the multitudes of get well soon cards.

Sasuke narrowed his dark eyes at the teacher in thoughtful silence. He remembered everything that happened, sharply, vividly. He could recall every word Gaara had said to his Naruto, had tried to get his Naruto to kill him. He remembered the bang that resonated through his consciousness with the force of an earthquake, he felt more than heard the disgusting thump Gaara’s body made as it came into contact with the ground, groaning, surrounding in a pool of blood. It was then, when Naruto had sank to his knees sobbing and crying, when he felt the blonde’s warm hands on him, telling him that everything was going to be all right, he was going to be fine, it was then he succumbed to the mercifully painless darkness that consumed him, that made his memory fuzzy and hard to speak. Hard to move. But he still remembered. He doubted he would ever forget.

“Naruto,” he said. The teacher glanced at him, noting the serious look in the detective’s eyes and the grim way his mouth was set and he fidgeted. Sasuke grasped his arm gently and again the blonde looked at him. Sasuke, suddenly at a loss of words, finding the strength for what he’d wanted to say being sapped away with frightening suddenness, was silent. Almost nervously, if Naruto didn’t know the detective better, his fingers traced an invisible figure eight pattern on his arm, staring at it as though it held an odd sort of fascination to him. Puzzled, Naruto didn’t withdraw his arm, though the butterfly-light touch on them made his skin crawl with a pleasant ticklish feeling. Having the sudden urge to scratch his arm, he did so, knocking aside Sasuke’s hand with his own as he scratched at it. Sasuke smiled. “Naruto,” he said again. “Everything that’s happened... it makes me want to tell you this. I don’t know you all that well, by any standards anyhow, and I want to know you better.” His smile was soft, a quiet happiness that seemed to permeate the room about them. “I want to know what kinds of food you like, what sort of music you listen to, your likes and dislikes.” His hand tightened around Naruto’s arm. “Naruto. I...” He paused then. “I love you.”

The words seemed to hang in the hospital room for a very long time as they slowly registered in Naruto’s rather blank mind as he stared stupidly at the pale raven-haired man. Naruto. I love you. So much different than Gaara’s love. A new beginning. A new life. A new love, one that loved him for himself and not because of blood or his body. A slow grin spread across his features. “I love you too, Sasuke,” he replied softly, sitting stock still, although he would’ve rather ran about, shouting, perhaps screaming it off the top of the hospital. Instead he sat there, his hand clasped within Sasuke’s, and smiled down at his beloved.

His Sasuke.

There would be no more terror, no more forced sex, no more forced pain from someone he loved and hated with the same fervor. No more guilty pleasure, no more dislike of home. He would enjoy coming home. It would be happy. He’d wanted this for so, so long that now that he had it it seemed too good to be true. But, looking at Sasuke, who was grinning rather tiredly, he knew it was absolutely, completely true and he bent down, softly kissing the detective, who responded in scope.

No more Gaara.

Sasuke closed his eyes as he kissed the blonde beauty above him. Sakura, he thought, you would be so happy for me.


The End ^^


Fun Facts about this fanfic:

- Formatted, this story is 58 pages long and has 39,000 words in it. Which is a lot considering it’s only about the third fanfic I’ve ever fully completed out of fifty or sixty ideas or half-started stories.
- There is more violence centered toward the head and neck than any other body part in this story.
- I did no research on this story, save one regard; I did a lot of research on medical terminology, which I’m learning anyways. So could it really be called research if I already knew it...?
- I started this story because I was bored and I decided to do a SasuNaru. This is my very first Naruto fanfic.
- I have reached my goal of fifty reviews by the end of this story and have currently reached 54.
- My goal on Invincible is to beat the number of reviews Machination got!!!! Yay!

Also, I do have a sequel planned out for this, it's actually nearly finished -- the name is Invincible. It should be posted after Machination is finished, so if you just keep an eye out, you'll see it. Or just look up my name and see if it's there, w/e... or, to make life easier, I'll post the very first chapter the same time I finish Machination. Or whatever. Anyway, I'm so glad to have been able to finish this story, thanks to your wonderful support!!!


I hope you enjoyed it, it was hard work. Thanks to you all!!

SquareBallProduction


My thanks to those who reviewed!!!

Especially A Vampire's Butterfly, whose dilligent reviewing and encouragement fueled me on! (And the 10 reviews). Thanks to Otahri for the constructive criticism, which I am most certainly taking to mind; Akumu_kage for confusing the hell out of me; Snirp for the wonderful praise; Blood and Ink; YasuragiYazukai; Satoyuki; SappySue; bandybunny; littleolme for the questions; Seasosassy for the *ahem* feigned interest; sew123093; JustAnotherSoul; angelgirl555; Safira247; yaoifan 16; narubaby; milliexchan; RamenFox; YaoiLuver; and Wild_Flower!! Don't forget to check out Invincible!!!!