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
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Chapter notes: Hello all... because it was such a long time getting updated I have added two chapters. >.< Love me, review for me! Enjoy. SBP