Am I dramatic ass bitch today? Hell yeah. Did I take some wild artistic liberties with this chapter? Also yes. Do I give two fucks? Not even one.

I've edited this chapter so many times I want to staple it to my forehead, aim a semi-automatic at it and shoot us both.

"What time is it?"

Kankuro watched the ticking face of future fleet into the past. Let down, he twisted open a bottle of misery keeping company.

"Six."

Haku, busying himself with boring chores, paused. Subtle peeks caught the small quiver on his pursed lips. It passed, he carrying on with a brave face, but worry for others he'd never hid well. Hopeless looks left him be, unstrung voices lay low as to not upset him.

"Shouldn't they be back by now?" Sai whispered to keep concern within the trio gathered around the island counter.

Suigetsu let his nibbled lip loose to say, "It's been four hours."

"Four hours and thirteen minutes", Kankuro added as he gazed into the distance hoping to detach.

Sai leaned into their tight circle. "The fuck we gon' do?"

As oblivious as he, the men twitched their shoulders. Between black humor and forlornness, Sai rubbed his face, too taut to mind his tone.

"We lookin' for bodies, ain't we? There ain't no beatin' odds no more, just firin' squads 'round ever corn—"

A crash of cast iron hitting the stove top cut him short. Jumping, he turned to see Haku's ever-ethereal eyes dim. The boy brought over his brew of alarm and ire.

"All in your head or not", his shaky voice leaned near, "don't you dare play God."

Peering from under his brows, Sai repented and let the boy under his arm.

"How long we got?" Suigetsu asked.

"A minute to midnight", Kankuro grunted, clueless as he lit a cigarette with another. "So, wanna drop dead or heads?"

"Same shit, ain't it?" Suigetsu grunted knowing every path led to what loomed ahead, whether straight or serpentine. "Our team's two fuckers short of a full clusterfuck. Now we ain't even that. Sittin' ducks with shotguns, that we are."

Tongue twirling thick smoke, Kankuro sighed, "Wish I had baby bro's ego to smack that shit outta ya."

His head tilted towards the sunset spilling through the south side's blinds as it tugged indigo east below the horizon. For prey, twilight never came without trouble. When some minutes later Venus shone brighter than the afterglow, a sheen of headlights crawled across the walls. From the sound of gravel rustling under slowing tires to steps nearing the door, they saved their breaths to see Gaara walk in, Naruto a second behind. Rarely had relief reaped a field of fear so vast so quickly.

In sudden faith, Kankuro turned his eyes to the skies and brushed a cross on his face. "I owe you one, old man."

"Save it." Naruto hurried to the counter. "We owe the Devil a thousand more."

He rushed his fingers along the quartz edge. Off came a small seamless panel hiding a touchscreen and keypad. Fed six digits and a fingerprint, the screen flashed green, unlocked and let the countertop inch up from its frame. Stunned stares marveled as he pushed it aside along sturdy slides, curious to peek inside and find an arsenal of armament mounted to wherever they awkwardly fit. Gaara gawked down in disbelief.

"We have a safe?"

"Yes", Naruto grunted choosing between heavy duty and overkill.

The redhead wondered, "What else do we have?"

"Outer walls are soundproof, windows bullet resistant and the basement's a panic room."

Gaara felt he should've been more au fait with his own home. "A...panic room?"

The stack of guns grew, Naruto's patience thinned. "You were gone for months, I needed a hobby. You want the floor plan or see another sunrise?"

Gaara dodged his frigid stare and dumped a box of .45's on the counter, left loading while Naruto hatched a hasty plan.

"Sai, lock all doors and windows. Kankuro, pick a toy and stand by. Haku, disconnect the surveillance but leave the in-house alarm on."

With stiff nods, the men scattered. Suigetsu, last one loitering, sensed trouble.

"Is it possible to crash a cell phone tower?"

"You...You want me to hijack a cell phone tower?"

"Can you?"

Suigetsu's string of stutters yielded. "If the base transceiver station has a bug, yeah."

"And if it don't?"

"Unlikely. Ever since SS7 started accepting IP commands, no network is a hundred percent foolproof."

"Good. Kill the nearest tower. Don't want cops 'round tonight."

Naruto didn't stick around for a yes-sir. Suigetsu caught him by the arm. Neither knew why he bothered asking.

"You met him, didn't you?"

Scorned at, he let the man walk away. There were questions better left a thought.

Naruto stared into the mirror, the mirror stared back, increasingly critical of the man it mimicked.

He should've done better. Been better. Just good enough not to stand tormenting himself for trusting a stranger to be no more than bizarre. He'd learned to love a life of prosaic slow Sundays too soon. It was selfish, put a price on heads not sitting on his shoulders. He could only hope Karma had turned a blind eye.

Closing his eyes soothed. A deep breath lessened guilt, bottling it put time on hold and the arms soon there to hold him from behind eased it out. Sinking his fingers into red hair, he opened his eyes. Cool kisses toured his skin.

"You okay?"

"No."

Kind eyes caught his in the mirror. "Don't think 'bout it."

"I can't." Naruto tipped his head against Gaara's, overthinking metaphors. "It's yours. Ours. I don't wanna lose anythin' of us."

A warm sigh dropped down his neck. The kind gaze toughened.

"It ain't us." Toughened to fall for him again. "This is."

He gazed at them and sighed. As ephemeral as a mirror image was, they lived in it for him to see and hold dear. There were no pictures of them, Naruto realized, and forgot when crooked lips kissed a smile on his.

"Okay", Gaara brushed his sore side, "let's fix that."

He scoured the bathroom closet, Naruto watched him do so and not notice. His lightweight smile, though there, slowly dived.

How many, now? Dozens? Hundreds? Maybe struggling towards the big bad thousand across the unfortunate lifetimes stuck in the same sinking dinghy. Not that the number mattered. Cheating death wasn't mathematics, but art, ironically a dying one. Whether luck or skill or any semantics in between, they were running out of whatever it was that'd won them the richest lottery time and time again. For the most unfortunately fortunate, life was like lying in the narrow pocket between railways as bullet trains raced over the lucky bastards. The trains had to end up somewhere. So did the tracks and whomever they havened. If not the only one, station Afterlife was closest.

The thought stuck with him through the pain of being swathed. It turned his stomach, clogged his throat and fell out like a mouthful of sick. That it tasted of.

"I'm scared."

Surprise stalled the hands tending to him. Gaara asked, for he really did not know. "Of what?"

It wasn't shame that ever so slightly trembled around the eyes wandering south. Guilt, maybe.

"Death."

Death. It translated well into silence. Promises of another tomorrow outweighed the question of 'why now'.

"You're not gonna die, I'm—"

"Not mine."

Gaara spent a second dazed, unsure why such a clear bell rung so dull when, foolish to most, their sentiments didn't as much coexist as they echoed in the same chamber. Death was a maxim he, too, loathed to live with. Not that of his own, but that of whom had, in his tunnel vision eyes, redefined the 'man' in 'human' and showed the best of both worlds; the state of how fundamentally flawed he was, and how fundamentally fine it was with this at heart good man, and this man only.

At any other time but their own, between any other people but themselves, defining soulmates was ornate to everyone else. Yet somehow, when it came to oneself it felt tolerably vintage and true rather than over-eager apotheosis. It felt right to believe that all of his multidimensional existence worshiped what he'd painted to be the heaven-sent savior of his earthbound soul more than life, himself or any combination of the two. And so, when he wondered about whatever state of salvation his soul was worth after earthly bonds, he trusted it'd already been saved and would cease to be, if it ever had.

Maybe, in the seedbed sprouting false hope, souls and saviors were just emblems of whyfors, made up arrows to follow, but whether all ended at last breath didn't matter. Whom he'd spend it on did. Out of the myriad mass-delusions mankind shared, that one he didn't mind falling for.

"Tell me. Best moment of your life."

Naruto spent his one Rainman-moment everyone was entitled to.

"April 17th, 2014, 10:03 a.m. You were three minutes late."

A smile like his, an inch inclined, sought for its lifelike emblem of a soulmate. Clichés did not live where they'd been born but visited the nest when needed. Truism was safe, gifted comfort, hence why it'd never abate.

"I was late for a lot of things", Gaara grunted and, the more he learned what he'd missed, regretted.

The yang to his yin, Naruto painted silver-linings. "We both were. But bein' too early might be no better."

It was a nice thought. Gaara decided to share it.

Hours later, a little shy of midnight with everyone on alert standby in the dark kitchen, nothing out of the norm had befallen, yet the air waved with static strain waiting for a high-voltage jolt. It was smart caution spiked with self-sabotage.

Sai, Suigetsu and Naruto sat at the table, Sai anxious being idle, Naruto restless by the window balancing a rifle on its muzzle against the floor to keep his hands busy as Suigetsu kept close watch on the computer ready to hijack the nearest transceiver if needed. Gaara stood by the front door smoking his twelfth cigarette since sunset. Across the room, sobered up, Kankuro followed suit. Haku, their saving grace, played tetris with the cluttered kitchen cabinets, quietly humming something soft and sweet. It soothed.

The clock ticked louder than usual. The wind beating the walls howled off-key, cold and dry in a piercing pitch that only rain could've harmonized with. But the skies were clear, the wind alone and they numb to everything but the silence between a second of no clock ticking, the breeze taking a break to return even rawer, and Haku needing a breath.

That was the worst of it all. The silent eye of a hurricane of noise. They could've chatted nonsense to crowd that pocket of quiet, but mass-hysteria did not take kindly to communication.

Naruto closed his eyes tightly shut. He'd hoped for the dark side of his lids to comfort, but instead found it haunted by what may go wrong, and for whom. Disappointed, he opened his eyes and by mistake caught Gaara's. Stuck, neither strayed, and Naruto lost focus. The rifle he'd toyed with slipped his hands and fell to the floor, startling everyone. With a sorry look, he bowed down to pick it up.

A sound no louder, but famously deadlier, echoed outside and struck the window, hot lead chipping a spider crack into the layers of laminated glass, lodging itself into the exact spot he'd sat at. He didn't need a look to know.

"Get down!"

Everyone dropped flat against the floor, covered their heads and lay still ready for the rapid-fire rain of bullets that shattered the window with a sheer five rounds. The thick sheet of glass fell from the frame onto Naruto's back, crumbling on and around him as shots showered through the glassless window blindly hoping to hit a head or heart. When it settled to lay in wait, Sai crawled over to slide the dull-edged shards off of his friend.

"You okay?"

Naruto rolled over to face the ceiling. "Yeah...I'm fine."

The indoor security alarm triggered by the broken window went off, its shrill screech crowding every floor of the house a war cry too late.

"I thought you said the windows are bulletproof!" Sai shouted over the clamor.

"I said bullet resistant." Another burst of shots began, blitzing the window next door. "Bulletproof glass don't fuckin' exist!"

Irked by the alarm, Naruto fumbled for the pistol jabbing into his back and shot at the control panel across the room. Knowing it wouldn't take long for the enthusiastic marksmen to take the downstairs windows as an invite, he looked to Kankuro.

"You get the ground floor. Take Sai and Haku to the basement. Make sure they stay there."

Sai rebelled, "But—"

Another window made friends with hardwood. "Did I fuckin' ask?!"

Humbled, he nodded and beckoned Haku over. Backs pressed tightly against walls, they sneaked out tailing Kankuro. One worry lighter, Naruto shut his eyes, breathed deep and called out to Gaara.

"Babe?"

A pained groan beat none. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah." What were a few more bruises on an already mangled man? "You?"

"Close 'nough."

Silence settled. It spiked the smell of gunpowder seeping in.

"Suigetsu", Naruto pushed himself to sit up, "You should take cover too."

Scoffing, Suigetsu set aside the laptop holding the nearest cell site hostage, crawled out from under the table and to the closest idle weapon. With a point to make, he cocked it back.

"Fuck you too."

Chuckling, Naruto grabbed the man's helping hand and struggled to his feet. Brushing off the crumbs of glass stuck only skin deep, he crossed the room avoiding windows the best he could. Gaara had picked himself up and stood propped against the wall looking unfit for much else. Naruto tapped the rifle resting on his shoulders.

"Loaded?" The man nodded. "Watch the door. I'll be back in a minute."

A tug on his arm stopped him from so eagerly diving deeper into the house. With a soothing smile, he planted a promise on the redhead's cheek and walked away letting go of the hand holding onto his as far as it reached. When it no longer did, Gaara turned to eyes waiting for his across the room. With a nod and sloppy salute, Suigetsu shadowed Naruto onto thin ice.

Kankuro held his breath, heart racing and mind too scattered to find focus. It'd been long since he'd last sat in the middle of an ambush. Even longer since shielding the needy at his own cost. Like most honors, fear shadowed it.

Behind the corner awaited a corridor, three untouched windows along it leading to the downstairs sitting room and another two windows pit against what must've neared the tenth round of bullets. When the eleventh struck the glass, he heard it crack and twelfth travel clean through, tearing the crackled window to the floor. He knew now was their last chance to outrun the line of fire.

Breathing in makeshift courage, Kankuro gestured the two men in tow to follow. Some steps forth and a little shy of turning the corner, he spotted a headache across the room. The basement door—it was electromagnetically deadbolted and they locked outside with no key or code. Out of all plights in infinite time, Naruto had chosen the worst to forget to share the most obvious obstacle between them and second-rate sanctuary. From disappointment and denial, Kankuro cooked disbelief.

"It's...locked."

"What?" Sai peeked from behind him, he pushed him back.

"It's locked." There was a certain special je nais se quoi in watching one's dream stand a nightmare away. "We can't get in."

Haku, squeezing Kankuro's arm, cowered by his side and secretly took a peek behind the corner. Slaved by the pain of no fallback, Kankuro didn't feel the small body against his freeze, didn't see the hazel-hued eyes rounden as pale lips parted, barely noticed petite fingers tug on the helm of his shirt until they finally irked him out of his tarry thoughts. The boy trembled. He frowned and tucked Haku behind his back to slowly turn the corner. Shock smoothened his scrunched brows.

Out of sight in the shadows, viewing what lurked outside, Kankuro felt the floor give way like a gallows trapdoor. For the first time in two decades, he felt like a child locking eyes with the monster lying in wait under the bed, and missed it. At least it'd hunted alone.

"...Run."

A dozen inky figures standing in the dark, clones of one another, faceless and fearless and there to either do or die. A dozen, in the backyard alone, hunting down the six of them. Unfair and inglorious, mused Naruto's mind as it ate away at itself.

He felt sick. His head buzzed with what denial became when it fell short. Gunshots rang in his ears, unfamiliar footsteps echoed downstairs, a cold draft from outside scared his hairs to stand on end. He laughed, paused to bite back a sob, laughed more, stood in the dark gazing through the living room window at the infestation spreading across the backyard, and finding no right way to feel about it, quieted and felt nothing. Just watched, waited. Wondered alone, wondered with the man walking up to watch with him. There was no use in uttering thoughts they already shared in silence, so they shared thoughts that would've been of importance, hadn't importance insisted on a slim chance of survival to be more than pointless small talk.

"How far's the nearest neighbors?"

They were getting closer. Louder, too.

"A few miles."

Fear wasn't friendly enough to pay a visit. They weren't friendly enough to invite it. Why bother when it'd barely have the time to even drop by?

"They're usin' suppressors."

"Yeah."

Suppressed gunshots. The sound wouldn't ring further than a hundred yards. Suppressed shots of a dozen guns, roughly a mile, but nowhere near help or lawful aftermath. Neither was wanted, neither was needed.

"In for a bet?"

Two sets of dead eyes stuck tight ahead, two men at peace with the oncoming deadline long overdue but both hoping they'd be the first to face it, and nobody there to stop them from betting on it. There were no crusaders for zest of life where the last one standing would be the one watching loved ones die.

"First one down gets a grave."

"Fancy."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

Naruto breathed deep and cracked his neck.

"Can't lie. I've missed anarchy."

"That's what we are now? Anarchists?"

"One resistance gunnin' down another."

"For what cause?"

"Anarchy."

He glanced at Suigetsu, Suigetsu glanced back. Flashing crooked smirks, they clasped hands for luck. Good, bad—whatever may block their path. Brothers were made where they'd soon be lost, and for the ironically inclined anarchists, battle cries were made to be thieved.

"Rebel yell?"

"Rebel yell."

Twenty-five. Twelve in the backyard, three roaming the roof, four at the front and another six patrolling the immediate area; twenty-five combined. A predictable, hackneyed strategy, for good reason.

Gaara had left his post by the door to observe the blueprint of a battle he'd seen unfold too many times to forget. Though timeworn, it was a smart setup. Easy to keep track of but tough to take down. How they'd sieged the house unnoticed, he didn't know and well-nigh respected.

For someone face to face with life's finishing line, he felt oddly at ease. Not because they were tough enough to take down an army, but because they wouldn't stand a chance. Twenty-five against six, two of whom had never held a gun, and him—blind in one eye, sloppily stitched together and stabbed in the arm—crafting a trio of gravediggers shoveling three doomed martyrs six feet deep. There was no unknown to fear. Just a fate to put up a futile fight against. Like a fool, he would.

That, as a rule, was what fools in love did, wasn't it? Poetically sacrificed their last heartbeat to gift another star-crossed clock just one more tick, if only to not be there when it ran out of time. No self-sacrifice was selfless, no selfless sacrifice was without sense of self. Yet a heart in love, arty by default, was the least selfish one could be.

Standing there, still an unseen shadow, Gaara eyed the rising Apocalypse after a dry-run war for a moment longer before setting his rifle to rest on the windowsill, and peered through the scope for a head to hit. He pulled the trigger once, twice, thrice. Three shots he fired, three men he took down, before the fourth in line caught him in their crosshair.

The first thirty calibers sank into his right shoulder. The next he wasn't sure of before stumbling two steps back balked by vertigo and blinded with a warm downpour streaming down his face, drenching him in red from head to chest sooner than he could taste it on his tongue. Surprise brought his shaky fingers up to his temple, refusal ran them up and down his wet face as slick crimson gathered under his nails, more trickling down to fill the clean tracks they'd scraped. His nails dug through sticky hair seeking what they desperately denied even when sinking deep into it.

Gravity latched onto him like a starving predator, pulling him back until it'd dragged him to the floor. It thrust on his lungs, scorched his throat. A deafening screech inside his skull sank its thorny claws into his brain, muting the throb of his heart racing against his tight chest. Hard, heavy. Like a hasty sledgehammer. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, couldn't feel his body below the neck, yet crawled as far as his resilience reached.

Across the room, just far enough for his fingertips to touch the threshold. The inch between him and help was mockery. Coughing up a chuckle, he struggled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, the ceiling stared back. A little hazier as seconds sped by, he noticed.

Fire raged inside his head, hot air swelled his lungs dense and heavy like boiling water. Feeling pressure cave it in, he clutched his chest knowing his heart beat out of rhythm. Spasmed, rather. With every aching try, it waited longer for the next one. It confused him, and when it no longer pounded hard enough for him to feel it, barely heard it in the blood sluggishly rushing to his head, falling into it felt much wiser than rebellion. Had his body shut down slower and let him draw in one more easy breath, he would've spent it on a bewildered apology. At the very least closed his eyes to not look whomever found him dead ahead into theirs.

The downstairs blew up into a blaring battleground. Kankuro, tailed by Sai and Haku, sprinted past shattering windows as they narrowly escaped down the corridor where he shoved Sai up the stairs, Haku in mind as he turned to see the boy trip at the third and last persistent west-facing window. He didn't think twice racing back into the room, dead center in rifle fire as he swept Haku into his arms and turned his back to the overthrown glass. His shoulder took a botched hit to save the boy.

Sai stood stranded on the stairs, panicking. He heard the shots, the muffled cusses down the hallway and clung to the handrail certain they'd both been gunned down, when Kankuro rushed up to hand Haku over and settled onto the last step, counting the bullets beating the window left from the stairway.

"Go." They hesitated. "Go!"

To not dwindle Kankuro's sacrifice, Sai and Haku took off just in time before the glass split and fell to the floor. Like treading a red carpet, two men with weapons aimed but focus not at its sharpest jumped inside, first one cooling on the ground a steady shot later. His perplexed partner took many more, met a sturdy combat boot and stumbled into the downstairs guestroom, the door kicked shut for his paling face to slam into on his way down.

Tricked by silence, Kankuro made it to the top of the stairs only to see a bullet take a trip over his shoulder. Annoyed, he spun around and gave the trigger three quick tugs. Two to take down the sneaky bastard, one more to make a point. He counted down from five. Nobody showed up, so he took off.

Shots fired inside the house. Naruto and Suigetsu swapped hasty looks and raced to the stairs, nearly tripping Kankuro down them. He turned squeezing a Desert Eagle, smacked with nonsense lapping over one another. For the scare alone, he itched to pull the trigger.

"Fuck you. You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry, man." Naruto glanced downstairs. "How many?"

"Three."

"Not bad."

"How many left?" Suigetsu sighed.

"No clue."

Naruto wasn't so worried. "They're three men down. They'll lay low for a few minutes."

"Knock on wood", Suigetsu grunted panning the room. "Where's the other two?"

"Not in the basement", Kankuro glared at Naruto. "Shit's locked, bro. Thanks."

"Fuck. Sorry, it just...Slipped my mind gettin' shot at. Where they at?"

"Hidin'. I made sure they got away", Kankuro promised. Naruto's ease breezed by.

One man was unaccounted for. He took a step back to check the hallway. It was empty. Eerie chills rising, Naruto glanced around frantically.

"Where's Gaara?" Nobody answered. "Where is he?!"

Kankuro and Suigetsu traded worried looks. Faces paled when it sank in that nobody had seen Gaara—not a man to sit tight when weapons fired under his own roof—since they'd parted ways. Terror-stricken, they scattered. Kankuro sprinted downstairs, Suigetsu chose the third floor while Naruto scoured the second. Four rooms he checked, four rooms he left empty-handed and rushed to the last one left.

The dark kitchen welcomed him with something slick he nearly slipped on. The light breeze brushing his face smelled of iron; sickly sweet iron and burnt gunpowder. Frenzied, he blindly fumbled for the light switch and lit up the room to see himself standing in a blanket of blood. First scare his eye caught was the messy trail running through it from the windowsill to the other entry across the room. What it led to took its time to travel the distances in his brain. It groveled from sight to shock to denial and stumbled into crippling, shattering woe.

Five minutes. He'd only been gone for five minutes.

He ran, slid across the wet floor to the man resting on it with a bloody halo slithering away from his head, and dropped to pull him into quivering arms and hands that held his gory face, shook his weeping head to wake the eyes still open but barren. Blood trickled darker from the burn mark where he'd been hit, hidden in hair a brighter crimson than it'd been blessed with, yet, draped in a thick veil of denial, Naruto spoke as if solace was all he needed.

"Hey. It's okay, I'm here. I'm sorry I was gone, just...You can wake up now, I'm here."

He didn't wake up, didn't hear or see him, and Naruto couldn't understand why. He refused to, but with a hysteric heart, betrayed himself. Every plea, every vain apology picked open another lock guarding him from grief, skinned him as if it'd had earthly claws, warped his words into wails, and as he splintered so did his wit, lost to aching screams echoing over all else that summoned men whom worst fears humbled. There was no sound alike losing half of a whole soul.

Kankuro knew barging in, yet braked at the threshold he staggered over scared into a heartsore cry as the red floor caught his buckling knees. He crawled to his brother shrouded in a sobbing cradle, lost in frenzied whispers as he cut in to shake him wanting to rob him from rightly arms. Hands sorry but harsh seized and dragged him away, held on until grief crippled him, and shook as he sat gathering his only brother's blood into quivering fists as if it wasn't real, not really there, not his. Sai and Suigetsu, pale-faced with pursed lips, stood by with bowed heads as their forlorn eyes swerved south to honor the clumsy, caring whispers between loud sobs from one hurt man, stuttering refusal of goodbyes from another. In loudest silence, they mourned. In ineffable ache, Kankuro blamed them all. In his sore cries, Naruto begged to make a trade.

Despondency's soundscape was chaotic. It was silent, it was loud, it could scream and cry, shake a quiet gasp into a sob, but what it never did was mend. And so, when Haku barged in some seconds late, he brought along a far cry from despair, the only voice with strength left, the only one asking questions not dumbed down by defeat.

"Oh my God. Wha—Why isn't anyone doing anything?"

When nobody answered, when the only sound circling the room was Naruto's uncontrollable cries, he raised his voice.

"Do something!"

Kankuro lifted his head from his hands, voice shaky with sullen rage. "He's been shot in the head, what the fuck am I supposed to do?!"

Gawking at the idle, useless fools gathered around the man they'd declared dead, Haku quaked with unapologetic anger.

"Get Naruto off of him." Three shocked mourners turned to see him roll up his sleeves. "Now!"

Sai, Kankuro and Suigetsu glanced at one another, at the blonde impotent of clear thought, and with stiff nods reluctantly sealed the silent deal. Knowing he'd put up a fight, they had no choice but to corner and blindside their hysteric friend. The end justifies the means, Kankuro told himself grabbing Naruto into a headlock as Suigetsu pried the redhead out of his arms, leaving Gaara for Sai to hold as he rushed to tame the squirming man. He screamed, he kicked, he threw his fists at the men struggling to catch them, sank his teeth into Kankuro's arm when all else failed, all in vain.

Haku hurried to Sai and the man he held in uncertain arms. Following first things first, he carefully laid Gaara down and placed Sai's hands on his chest.

"Chest compressions, now."

Stuttering, Sai nodded and pressed down, mind scrambling for a rhythm. 'Walk the Line', he remembered.

Haku looked into green desolate eyes and gently closed them. Just in case.

He tilted Gaara's head to feel up and down his neck. No weary nudge bounced against his fingertips, no weak beat, slow or rapid, struggled to stay strong, no breath fogged up the phone screen he held close to the man's parted lips. Wisely Haku hid his worry from Sai's watchful eyes but refused to forsake his search for a pulse. Weak ones hid well.

"Well? Is he...dead?" Sai whispered.

Haku pushed down harder. A feeble beat bounced against his fingers once, waited, then hurried three times to fall flat again and lie in wait.

"Nope, he's alive." Every breath bated. Kankuro and Suigetsu turned to look, Sai gasped wide-eyed and Naruto's writhe wore down. "Keep going, we don't want to lose it."

Time ticked on as quickly as it'd stopped. Suigetsu sank to the floor, Sai murmured gramercies between resilient pushes. Kankuro breathed in a sharp sob and hid under his arms to keep his damp eyes a secret, letting Naruto crawl over to shove Sai aside and take his place. Much stronger, he pushed down harder, broke ribs, didn't shy away from causing harm lesser than demise. Sai kept the bruise where his head hit the wall to himself.

"Okay", Haku said to calm himself down, "where did they get you?"

Careful, he sank his fingers into red hair thinking he'd find one clean hole hidden in it. Instead his fingertips brushed against a lengthy split of torn scalp—a little left from his forehead, traveling from his hairline almost to the back of his head—and sank into a smooth, sharp-edged groove inches long in his skull. It was deep, a hair's width and one wrong move away from cracking and caving in, but beat a bullet nesting in his brain. Putting direct pressure on it would do more harm than good.

"Ice", he said, "I need ice."

Suigetsu rummaged the freezer for an ice pack. Haku calmly stripped off his cardigan, wrapped it around the pack to place it close to the trickling wound and let his fingers rest against Gaara's neck to count the seconds between weak, erratic beats. Ideas of how, why and now-what toyed with his thoughts.

Headshots, never good news no matter how sloppy or severe, and alarming in many ways. No observable brain injury, he assessed, but internal bleeding should never be assumed out. He'd bled from his nose and ears, a concussion was certain. Shock sparked by sudden, severe blood loss brutally forced onto prior critical injuries, dramatic drop in blood pressure, in tandem leading to almost immediate unconsciousness, a weakened slow or rapid heartbeat, respiratory arrest and, eventually, cardiac arrest.

He'd lost between twenty and forty percent of total blood volume, Haku judged, and settled closer to thirty; enough to knock him out but not, yet, induce coma or clinical death. As a rule, head injuries bled profusely, but how he'd lost so much so quickly didn't add up. Pensive, Haku eyed him carefully and noticed his shoulder, too, had been hit, and so he reached under him to feel for an exit wound, let down to find one. A lodged round would have blocked the wound and he bled a great deal less.

Rather than unwise, Gaara was unlucky.

"Hypovolemic shock."

Catching Haku's quiet mutter, Sai glanced at him. "Hypo-what?"

"Hypovolemic shock", Haku repeated. "Severe shock caused by twenty or more percent of blood or fluid loss. Always an emergency, but especially damaging to children, the elderly, and sick or injured individuals. Fatal if not treated immediately."

He spoke as if reciting a direct quote.

"How the hell would you know?"

And it was. From where, he kept to himself.

"Long story", Haku murmured, "for another time."

Knowing Sai would air unwanted opinions, he was allayed to feel Gaara's pulse ease into a steadier rhythm, and told Naruto;

"Keep it up. Compressions draw in air, we need him to breathe."

The blonde nodded, gloomed, and mumbled, "I fucked up."

"Honey...Don't do this to yourself, it wasn't your—"

"Shut up." Haku flinched, Naruto thrust down harder. "I left. I lost my shit when I should've helped him. I fucked up. If his heart stops, we can't start it, he dies, and it's my fault."

"He won't." Soft-spoken, when his friend's mind misgave him, Haku was his crutch. "Don't give up and he won't."

Biting his trembling lip, Naruto nodded and in silence lashed himself for being so shortsighted. It made him frustrated, stubborn. And, maybe, had he not blundered he would've missed the one blessed push that gifted Gaara a gasp of air. Naruto's focus derailed, paused him when nothing should've. Haku had to pry his hands away from the redhead's face.

"No, no! Don't stop, you can't stop. He's unconscious, a gasp is not a breath."

Scramble-minded, Naruto spent a moment lost not knowing what to do with his hands.

"It's okay", Haku soothed. "Keep going, you're doing good."

Breathing deep, he did. Relief and frenzy was a strange blend. Dangerous, given where and when it made a man stumble, but gave him strength to force flat lungs to draw in chocked breaths that gradually found frail balance. His heart, though wayward, still slaved.

"Okay, take a break."

Naruto drew his hands back. "He's not wakin' up. Why's he not wakin' up?"

A deep frown scrunching his face, Haku thought back to lessons he'd learned the hard way. "We need to raise his blood pressure."

"How?"

"Do you have an Epi-Pen?"

"No."

"Any artificial adrenaline?"

"No."

Silence short on ideas settled and lingered until Kankuro coughed nervously. "I have an idea. It's either the best or worst I've ever had."

Eyes turned, he shrunk.

"Whatever it is, hurry up. It's been five minutes, they ain't gon' wait forever", Suigetsu huffed.

Kankuro rushed to rummage through his bag sitting in the corner, vacillated, and turned to show off a ziplock bag of clear crystals. Hell fire set Naruto's eyes ablaze.

"Meth? That's your idea?!"

"You got a better one?!"

Naruto clenched his jaws sore, unsure eyes shifting between Gaara and Kankuro's shaky suggestion. Granted, the drug would skyrocket his blood pressure but might as well send him into cardiac arrest. So would idleness. At a loss, Naruto shot his fidgety brother-in-law a look that dripped ill will.

"If your chalk offs him, you're next."

Fine with that fate, Kankuro hurried to find a syringe, crushed a pinch of ice into a spoon, mixed it with a drop of water and held it over a flame until the white dust dissolved. Time ticking closer to another armed altercation, he drew the mix into the syringe, strapped his belt tightly around Gaara's arm and pierced the first vein it brought forth. Slowly, one daunting millimeter at a time, he pushed the drug in. When the needle slid out, they fell silent waiting for what'd happen, afraid nothing would. Naruto took a tight hold of Gaara's cold hand.

"C'mon, baby. Wake up."

A second passed, then two, then three. On four, pale eyes shot open dilating jet black as his now rigid body sat up stiff from the border of breathless brain death, he rising from the floor onto feet that failed him. Naruto caught him, he fought him off and rather lay on the ground convulsing.

Evanescent fear of God smote them to their knees. Naruto defied the man warning him to stay away with dazed eyes.

"Hey, it's okay", he promised. "It's just me."

Gaara, still twitching, bewared with silent threats in his ink-black eyes, high and haywire, but tolerated the gentle touch on his face. Stare stuck tight to the ceiling, he recognized the rush of vigor spreading throughout his body, the euphoria, the aggression, the urge to violate whatever with a pulse and do so sleepless. Rage handpicked a stray string of sense from his daze.

"Why the fuck am I high on meth?!"

Nervous looks looped around the brave blonde struggling to pin him down.

"Calm down." Fighting him felt wrong. "It's okay, just calm down, you're hurt."

Gaara glowered into his bloodshot eyes, no calmer but aware enough to make simple short-spoken observations.

"You're cryin'."

His voice quivered Naruto's smile. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Again, nervous glances wondered what to do. Though unsure how wise it was to remind Gaara of what he seemed to have forgotten, Naruto dried his damp eyes and took one for the team.

"Now, don't freak out, but", he paused, dawdled, "you got shot in the head."

Wires in a knot, it took time for the words to travel from one end of his mind to another. Wide-eyed, Gaara reached to sink his fingers into his scalp when Naruto caught him by the wrist.

"No, no, no. Don't do that. Don't...touch it."

Gaara pried his hand free. "I got a bullet in my head?!"

"No, it just kind of…" The blonde cautiously parted his hair to take a peek and did a poor job bluffing. "Let's say...signed your skull."

Pupils wide as space and black as night stared into the distance. "Who shot meth up my arm?"

Kankuro winced at the guilty gazes slowly turning to him. Gaara was up on his feet and charging at his brother faster than the man could flinch, anger an ally but body a traitor.

"Fuck, calm down", Naruto grunted, catching Gaara when he fell back. "You're hurt, stop it."

Even at his lowest, Gaara let no grudge go. He tore off the belt still buckled around his arm and hurled it at the man too sorry to duck. Like a harpoon, a sharpened spasm struck his chest, viciously hammered his heart off beat, sheathed it and held on tight, towing him down. Naruto followed.

"Look at me." Biting the bullet when taking one awaited was ambitious. "You're hurt, I'm scared, and you need to calm down before I lose my shit, 'cause there's a motherfuckin' armada waitin' outside and I ain't got no extra fucks to give 'em tonight."

Gaara rolled his right shoulder, touched his sore side. His speech slurred.

"Are my ribs broken? Did I get shot in the shoulder? I fuckin' hear colors and see sounds but can't feel shit."

"Don't you worry about it, honey", Haku smiled, sitting down next to him. The man stiffened. "It's okay. I'm just gonna check your vitals."

Where Haku harvested the courage to be so at ease with crazed, coal-black eyes whipping him was unknown but treasured. He tamed threat like a lullaby come to life.

"Hm, arrhythmia. How do you feel? Does your chest hurt—"

Gaara's glassy eyes snapped past him, across the room to the corner a few feet from where Naruto stood. He was too slow. Before Kankuro could fire the shotgun his brother ailed to reach and throw, a leather-gloved hand clasping a tactical knife held the whole room hostage resting the blade against Naruto's throat. Behind him, veiled with a black mask, hid a man taller than him. Taller, but thinner. Unnerved by the sawed-off shotgun's tenacious stare, he held the handle tighter. The thick leather creaked.

"Put the gun down."

Kankuro, trigger-happy, bided his time. "Let him go."

A huff, nervous but defiant, proved the man foolhardy. Kankuro didn't miss the bead of sweat on his furrowed brow or how he ached to let his outnumbered eyes wander warily. He'd walked in oblivious. A little wet behind the ears, maybe, and naive to suspense, easily flustered and fumbling to make up for it with pseudo-confidence. The blade grazed. Knowing Gaara, a thoughtless guardian even sober, would go off the deep end, Naruto put him in his place.

"Stay down."

He did, restiff, like a rabid dog growling behind an electric fence. The status quo favored no one and unnerved the jittery man in over his head. Naruto, clinching the arm around his neck, felt the steel scraping him quiver. The guy hid his cold feet behind big words.

"Put the fucking gun down!"

Now or never, thought Kankuro catching a glance from Naruto who nodded his head, and slowly lowered the gun. Before it could touch the floor, Naruto headlocked the gullible guy peeking from behind, bowed, and threw him over his shoulder to the floor. Kankuro fired at his chest, cocked back the gun and shot the second shell, shredding his torso to tatters. Gaara looked proud, Suigetsu snickered, and Sai and Haku, who'd never seen someone so positively, brutally dead before, winced.

Underwhelmed, Naruto huffed, "That's it?"

"I guess", Kankuro mumbled eyeing the body. "Are they all like newborn brats?"

"Only one way to find out."

Heavy stomps sprinted across the roof towards, they assumed, the third floor windows, while others crowded the downstairs. They were cornered. Finding shelter in the basement was out of the question.

"Shit." Kankuro scowled. "Now what?"

Naruto's gaze followed the steps above. "Do your worst."

Three men nodded, three men left. Kankuro stayed behind to see Gaara struggle to his feet, and awkwardly waited for the man to lend him a look. It wasn't kind, very nearly scared him off, yet bravely he walked up to his brother and for as long as he dared, held him. For twenty years he hadn't, and it didn't feel the same, didn't reward him the same, but though the small boy he'd once effortlessly carried had outgrown his courage and strength, daunted him as he did most everyone, he rose above his faint heart to prove brotherhood may wane distant, unkind and unwanted, but never null. Lord knew how they'd tried. And were His will to turn on them tonight, Kankuro would face any fate at ease knowing he'd dug himself a grave worth withering in.

With a loyal nod to Naruto, he left. In silence of many odd undertones, the twosome men reflected on the familial curveball in their own ways—Naruto withdrawing to the sidelines of Gaara's enigmatic ken prone to backfire, as was his wont. Neither mentioned it.

"You okay?" Naruto asked, though saw how Gaara struggled. He found a place to rest against the hallway wall.

Here and there in midst of a knotty haze, pain plucked at their receptors calling out for attention his high head didn't spare. He was numb but, obscurely, knew what to, as if watching his body shut down through a cracked fun house mirror made of frosted glass. His chest hurt, cramped with every breath and beat. His head ached, he felt sick and dizzy and tightroped between consciousness and collapsing. Self-aware delirium was an odd sensation.

"I'm…" The room orbited him. "I'm sorry."

Naruto smiled, confused. "'Bout what?"

And Gaara, whether sober and sound or drugged and unwell, orbited that smile. Had since it'd first found him under a starry sky far from home and outshone it. Some small things were worth forgetting half a lifetime to remember.

"If I don't make it, I'm sorry."

"What?" He'd known the smile would sink slowly and bewildered. "No. Don't...Don't say that, you're fine, you're not gonna die. You're fine."

He looked too scared to trust himself, Gaara thought, smiled and gently pulled him near to watch him, feel him, trace the looks some poor bastard somewhere had been robbed of to bless him twofold. Gaara would've rather cherished his fortune to do so than reminisced the forged aces up his sleeve he'd thrown at Karma to beat the odds.

"Y'know", But now that the Grim Reaper was the repo man, maybe it was fine to muse over a con well done, "I never did a fuckin' thing to deserve you."

Whether true or just humility, he knew he'd done famously for someone numb to most good and kindness he could've but never given, whom all of sanctimonious world would've shunned for knowing benevolence from someone else when, as written whenever it fit the fairy tale, the titular wicked were not deserving. Two-faced affectation, maybe, but believable the more he was reminded of it. And yet, all those bizarre thoughts of his were absolutely pointless in a war zone. Naruto read between the lines facts Gaara didn't remember writing.

"You're givin' up."

"No. I'm just—"

"You're givin' up."

"I'm not, I'm just sayin'—"

"Leave."

Baffled, Gaara huffed treating it like a sick joke. "What?"

A stray bullet shot from across the house whizzed by. The house, silent a second ago, burst into a three storey battleground. Crossfire, near hits and misses, gun fights and close combat were no plight for a soul that'd just sat up from its mortal body. Angry rather than anxious, Naruto took off his shirt and tore it to bind Gaara's shoulder. His tending was not kind.

"Leave. Get out. Find help as far from here as you can and don't come back. Get it?"

Gaara blinked tight, twice, unsure if the order was a delusion of his, or Naruto's, for it was a delusion of someone's.

"What?" he asked again, irate yet confused.

Naruto pulled tight the bound strip of cloth and spoke as if to a child. "Leave. You cannot stay here. I need you to be safe. So get out and find help."

"Fuck you." Gaara's balance became foes with gravity. Naruto bettered his hold on him. "I'm on meth, not insane."

"Do what I say."

"Why?!"

"Because you don't want me to give up!"

Gaara flinched, Naruto leaned closer.

"If you give up, I give up. You die, I die. If that's what you want, I'll do it, in a heartbeat. Just give up and I give up. Pull the trigger when I do, gun me down, I gun you down. But I am not outlivin' you."

In deafening uproar, they fell silent. Time, or whatever fiction named so always ran in the background, stopped for them. For everyone else it was running out faster than they could keep up, and as if to remind how unfair it was for them to stand still while all else suffered, a shot rang and by a hair grazed Naruto's leg. Irked, he drew his gun and tugged on the trigger with every furious stride down the hallway, gunning down the woman too slow to aim again. He halted a while away, stared at the twitching body at his feet and graced it with one more, petty bullet.

Gaara fought to stay on his feet. He was numb, yet nauseous, and lost in delusions of not bailing on the role he'd already exhausted, noticed the stranger stepping into the kitchen with a clear view of the hallway a triggerful too late.

Surprise paused them both. Gaara, the luckiest unfortunate bastard alive, stood in line of dry fire marveling how much sheer stupidity it took to tread enemy territory without keeping count of ammunition, and felt foolish himself thinking what a bore it'd become to collect death sentences as a razor toothed blade bolted at him.

A shortsighted martyr slammed into him, covered their heads and dropped a growl down his neck as steel slid across bare bone. Naruto didn't budge when the knife clumsily sank between his skin and shoulder blade, pointed his gun back and blindly fired at the masked man frozen behind him. Shot through his left eye, he collapsed screaming and clawing at the empty socket, squirming until he quieted still pulling at the meat peeling off of his face.

Hiding in their imagined haven under his arms, Naruto asked, "Could you…?"

With a shaky hand, Gaara slid out the knife and dropped it gazing into keen eyes. They no longer insisted. They begged.

"Go."

"I can't. I can't leave you."

Naruto looked at him, saw how frightened he was, and though they both knew it'd be one, told a lie.

"You're not. You're just leavin' home. Like you do every day. And then you come back, and I'm here waitin' for you, and I'll tell you I love you. Like I do every day. Okay? It's just like every day."

It wasn't. It wasn't every day, and if tonight allowed only one of them to outlive it, no sunrise was more beautiful than Naruto at peace with never beholding another to save the one life his own was worth, whether it'd soon follow too lonely to stay. In utopia most modest, he would be there waiting to tell how he loved him, and rather died a liar than a self-fulfilling failure.

"I can't save us both. You can't save yourself. But you can come back to me."

Naruto smiled, inched closer and stopped where a whisper was enough even in war.

"Let me wait for you."

Though smoke and mirrors to cushion harsh truth, nothing quite eased the guilt of being a burden. Gaara was dead weight, and if he selfishly stayed neither of them would live another day. If he didn't and only he saw the sun rise, it'd set without him. But rather than not waking to another morn or doing so alone, he was offered the slim chance of living dawn together.

Clumsy in haste, he took off his ring. His fingers, though wet and slick with blood, were careful not to drop the ring placing it in Naruto's hand. He looked down at it. Gaara hurried to set right his scare.

"It ain't goodbye." He'd forgotten how holding back hurt burned. "You'll give it back. I'll give back yours. When I come home, and you'll be here waitin' for me, and you'll tell me you love me. Like you do every day. Just like every day."

Lie. "Just like every day."

Lie more, lie better. Lie until you believe it. Lie until it tastes like truth on his lips, until it feels like you're not kissing him for the last time, until trite poetry seems like pretentious lace embellishing delusion again and not like the universe you've made him be and orbit, afraid you'll stray and never come back. Lie until it's okay to let go, until you don't shake in his arms, until you again fear true love exists only in writing and trust in just-like-every-day. There will be another.

Naruto grabbed the helmet by the door, gave it to hands that didn't want it, and smiled.

"Drive safe."

Gaara couldn't. "Live."

He backed up to the door, looked him in the eye learning details he already knew by heart, and left, locking inside a smile he knew fell as soon as he'd gone. He lingered. Hesitated, reconsidered, flicked through memories he hadn't made enough of. They seemed distant already. Hazy and vague, fading in and out with his fickle consciousness. The drug's rush had peaked and eased into a high.

The ground felt like quicksand, the dim crescent moon blinded. Shutdown already on autopilot, his dead man's switch was failing. Twice on his knees but tenacious, he slaved himself to the front yard. Just a short stumble away from the Streetfighter, footsteps pivoted behind him. The seeking stare of a barrel on his back froze him. With nowhere to go, he turned, took a step back and wondered what to do. Before he could decide, a suppressed shot rang in his ears. Then another.

A bullet-stricken body hit the ground. Gaara flinched surprised it wasn't his and again when another dropped behind him. He glanced at the two dark figures twitching towards the great beyond, frowned, and spun around to look up. Whoever lurked on the roof hid well. Blessed for no earned merit, he staggered to the Streetfighter, groaned pulling the helmet over his head and drove away. If he crashed, it'd be when his threadbare ticker ran out of beats.

His pride would long outlive him.

"Which way?"

Haku glanced at the stairs leading up, the stairs leading down, not sure why he bothered when making a choice was no wiser than making none.

"I—I don't know. They're everywhere."

"Well we can't stay here!" Sai snapped.

Haku turned to him with thin eyes. "No need to be rude."

"Really? You think this is the time to nag me?"

"There's always time for that." Haku nibbled at his thumb. They needed option fallback. "Wait here."

"Wha—Where are you goin'? Hey! Come back!"

The boy was gone. Flabbergasted, Sai drew into himself worried to be alone, worried that Haku had wandered off by himself. He panned around nervously. Before he could fear catching someone unwanted nearby, a stranger clad in black hurried past him. Holding his breath, he flattened himself against the wall and prayed they wouldn't turn back. Just a few steps shy of turning the corner, the man stopped, cocked his head and slowly turned to spot Sai staring with eyes tugged wide.

Never in his life had he looked down the deadly end of a gun, run from one or wondered if one could, but rather learned the hard way than be taught between the eyes. He sprinted, .22's chased him drilling through walls and splintering the beams in between. They ran out, he'd outrun them, but the gunslinger ran faster. A harsh hand got hold of him, slammed him into the wall and went for the knife dangling on their belt. Without thinking, and best so, Sai shocked them both with a bold, brave kick below the buckle.

Some taboos were made to be broken, yet he cringed along with the man hunched over hurting from downtown up to his throat and felt sorry for a perfectly good pair gone to waste only to then cry out as if it'd been his loss. Eyes locked, together they screamed as a wide blade from behind struck down into the man's stocky neck butchering him with one, two, three hacks and a civil insult.

"Get off, you jerk!"

Haku, the sweet little thing, stood on tiptoe digging a meat cleaver into spilling flesh chopping the man down, thorough as he carried on until the gurgling gasps ceased and only belated air bubbled up his squirting windpipe. Haku was small, the cleaver heavy and his aim ignorant. The aftermath—the length of meat sliced thickly from jaw to shoulder, the skull and face butchered by stray swings, the odd goo oozing from his mangled head—it was an eyesore for anyone, but in Sai it stirred a mouthful of lunchtime that burned on its way up and down. Haku glowered at the carcass.

"Some people." The tiny murder machine turned to smile at Sai.

And it unnerved alike the tube of 22's he'd outrun. "Wh—Where'd you get that?"

"Oh this?" Haku held up his gruesome cleaver. "I keep it under the bed."

Sai chuckled nervously. "Of course you do."

Two loud thuds fell from the ceiling. Must've been Suigetsu clearing the upstairs. Downstairs was Kankuro's kingdom. Naruto and Gaara had stayed behind, meaning the only floor unguarded by big, brawny, at the very least skilled men was the second where they loitered like bait for bigger fish. What they needed was a secluded spot, as unsafe as any other, but a hide to keep an eye on the chaos from. Walking around with a mere meat cleaver was shorthanded.

"Hold this", Haku handed the gory blade for Sai to hold, "I have an idea."

Sai dangled the sticky slayer as far as his arm reached and repeated, "Of course you."

He sighed and gave up on going against Haku's antics up until turning to see them in action.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Put that thing away, now!"

"Don't worry, darling, I've got a plan", Haku assured as he waddled towards the stairs carrying a 40 pound sniper rifle.

"Wha—Get back here!"

Halfway up the stairs, the giant rifle thumping as it dragged over the steps, Haku did not listen. Arms spread and jaw scraping the floor, Sai stuttered nonsense, huffed, and decided to live with the haywire fact Haku was.

"I have a plan", he mocked leaping over the body at his feet. "Of course you fuckin' do."

It was ridiculous. The sum of them, funny when nothing else was.

Just about at his wit's end, Kankuro grabbed the wrist of an over-enthusiastic hitman, lady rather, carelessly swinging around an unused Beretta, snapped her arm over his knee like a dry twig and headbutted her to the ground to spend his last shot putting a bullet through her open mouth. The screams suffered into silence.

Well aware of the lot lurking by the shattered windows, he picked up the woman's Beretta and emptied the chamber into the night. Whether it slayed or not, he didn't know nor cared. All he needed was a minute across the room, at the basement door to peer through the latch at eye-height. Unlocked, luckily. It did not disappoint. Not in size, not in security.

Weapons, water, food, surveillance, medical supplies and futons to sleep on. Everything a last resort should be, everything the helpless pair and his injured brother needed. Swiping the latch shut, he peeked outside, saw no shadows on the move and seized the chance to visit upstairs.

Sprinting down the hallway, Suigetsu snatched the first weapon sticking out of his open bag on the fly, rushed around the corner, up the stairs and to the bedroom where he ran into an intruder forcing their way in through the window. They fired, he dodged and thrust his unsheathed sword through their throat, waited for their knees to buckle and smiled when the sharpened blade split their neck in half from shoulder to jaw. He slid the sword out, they hit the floor.

Guns, boring. Blades, brutal. Surely some aged trauma was the hotbed of why he chose preference over convenience.

Two sets of steps stomped around the roof. Suigetsu sighed, about to join them when loud thuds steadily closing in spun him around. Prepared to battle, he arched a brow seeing their dainty friend walk in with a lavish smile, dragging with him an ArmaLite AR-50.

"Hi", Haku chirped struggling the rifle across the room.

"Uh", Suigetsu wondered, "You sure that's a good idea?"

Sai walked in with a sour face. "Don't bother, the little shit don't listen to sense."

Finally by the window, Haku set down the rifle, eyed the messy floor and peeked outside. "How many left?"

"On the roof? Two." Suigetsu eyed the rifle in doubt. "Listen, I don't know if that's—"

Sai saw best to interrupt, "He just chopped off a head with a meat cleaver."

Suigetsu's face paled and scrunched to cringe as Haku beamed at him. Sweet or not, the boy creeped out grown men like creaks in the night.

"You think you could take care of them for me?" his honey-veiled voice wished.

Unnerved, Suigetsu wheezed, "Yes, sir."

With a scrambling, pointless bow, he jumped out of the window, spotted two shadows roaming the roof, and to save time he didn't have, invited them to do their worst.

"Bonsoir, bitches!"

They turned, swapped glances, and split to left and right. One charged at him head on, but blind in the dark fired two misses. Too late for another try, he lost his gun and hand alike, howling hysterically seeing the sad stump left, mute and mostly headless thereafter. Suigetsu, not enough of an overachiever to bring a blade to a gunfight, grabbed the severed hand to thieve the Colt 45 from its hooked fingers and aimed at its twin. They fired, so did he.

Though not yet sure where, Suigetsu knew he'd taken a hit. Not noxious, just a drawback. The rush of adrenaline was a sure giveaway he welcomed with open arms and gifted another forty-fiver to the man still standing one lung poorer. Struck in the jaw, not dead but busy holding the half hanging loose, he didn't fight the kick that sent him off the roof and three storeys down. The thud was a delight, the bullet flying past his head not.

A third one. He'd counted wrong.

Suigetsu turned to meet a pistol he hadn't planned for. It went off and sent a slug through his hand. The Colt he held dropped, hit the roof and bounced over the edge onto the garage. Left standing yards away from another shot, he glanced over his shoulder at the garage twenty-something feet below. Bad ideas beat none.

"Fuck it."

Sighing, he tossed his sword and leaped after it. The flat roof caught him with its unkind concrete coating. It scratched his palms, sprained an ankle and bruised both knees but topped taking another bullet. Most things did.

Groaning, Suigetsu reached for the gun, rolled onto his back and took aim at the head peeking over the gutter above. Why had he agreed to this sick hide-and-seek?

"Fuck you, Sasuke."

He fired, the yelping nuisance fell limp. Suigetsu closed his eyes, breathed deep, and opened them to meet the starry sky as he gently touched his sore side. The holes in the front and back were tough to miss.

Peeking down, he saw that the coast to the broken guestroom window seemed clear, crawled to the edge and jumped down. The drop, however lower, wet his shirt red with a warm squirt.

"Fuck you, Sasuke. Fuck you so much."

Silence settled. Sai and Haku spent a moment listening for gunshots, screams, thuds of dropping bodies—any sounds of a struggle—and breathed in ease hearing nothing but bustle down below. Haku peeked out of the window and spotted two dark figures sprawled on the roof. One lay still, the other still wormed, harmless.

"The coast's clear." Haku grabbed the heavy-duty rifle he'd hauled upstairs. Sai pitied his effort to climb out with it.

"Give it to me", he grunted, snatched it from Haku and stepped onto the roof.

The boy followed. Together they sneaked to the front yard side, set the rifle to rest on its stand and flattened themselves to seem one with the night. Haku took a moment to inspect the weapon, achingly unfamiliar with its functions. Sai felt unsafe. Somebody had to.

"You have no idea what you're doin', do you?"

"Shush, honey. You're cuter when you're quiet."

Haku fumbled with the gun making wild guesses, found the magazine release to check it was loaded, fully so, and clicked it back into place. A little nervous, he switched off what he hoped was the safety.

"Now what?" Sai huffed, gradually grumpier.

"Now", Haku peeked through the scope, "we wait."

"Wait for what?"

Tired of backtalk, he shot Sai a stingy glare. "What did I just tell you?"

Though sour, a sudden sound, that of a door opening and closing, zipped his lips. Wobbly steps strode along the outer wall, turned the corner and into their view. Haku hurried to twist the stiff rifle on its stand and caught a staggering shadow in the crosshair, his finger on the trigger ready to tug. Even in the dark, he recognized Gaara by his height and gait, however clumsy it was.

"Don't worry, it's just Gaara", he told the man peering down unnerved.

"How do you know?"

"You boys are my litter of helpless baby ducks, I just know. Stop talking."

They watched their friend cross the yard heading towards the Streetfighter parked on the other side. Nearly there, Gaara halted. Sai spotted a threat sneaking in from nine o'clock and nudged Haku to catch his attention. The boy glanced left, flinched, and tryingly turned the heavy duty destroyer on its stiff stand to take aim. He struggled to keep up, feared he'd fall behind, and though good news rarely came from the barrel of a gun, fired a lucky, fortuitous, outright random headshot.

Sweepstakes called out his name.

Two stunned gasps marveled at his unlikely zinger. A hasty high five later another masked stranger, much faster than his late friend, crept from behind a sturdy tree just on the edge of the lot and charged at the redhead baffled by the body lounging on the ground. Haku knew he'd spent his luck on the first shot and opened his mouth to cry out a warning when another gun fired down below. A bullet whizzed by their blindsided friend and struck the lurker still clasping their gushing neck when Gaara drove away. Sai and Haku traded timid looks.

"Can't beat that, can we?"

"Nope. Let's go."

"Yes, please."

An eerie quiet had draped the house. Hearing a pin drop in a combat zone never stood for good news. Kankuro sprinted up the stairs and to the hallway where he found Naruto facing the door, staring at it shoulders slumped and head tipped down. Gaara wasn't there. Confused, Kankuro sculpted a deep, misgiving frown between his brows.

"Where is he?"

Stone-faced, Naruto slowly turned. "He left."

Rapid rage sent Kankuro down the hallway. "You let him leave?"

Naruto shoved the man towering too close for comfort. "You got a better idea?"

"Oh, I don't know, the biolocked basement?!"

Kankuro's obnoxious tone pinched him in the wrong spot. For reasons larger than life and how its end appeared nigh, he wasn't in the mood to be argued with. Kankuro paid for it kicked in the gut and pinned between the wall and his humorless brother-in-law.

"Don't talk back to me", Naruto snarled to remind him why wars called for commanders. "I got lives of loved ones in my hands, an army of hitmen in the backyard and no idea if I'll ever see my baby again, and you think now's the time to piss me off? He's my fiancé, this is my motherfuckin' house, and I don't want him here. Do you fuckin' understand?!"

Tough love, that it was, that Kankuro respected. "Yeah...Understood."

"Good."

Naruto let go, Kankuro stood up to his own height. Noise from the guestroom down the hall drew their guns, Suigetsu stumbling out holding his side quickly pointed the pistols to the ground. His once white shirt told a gory tale.

"You okay?" Naruto hurried to help his hunched over friend.

"Get shot and ask again", Suigetsu wheezed through gritted teeth.

Sai and Haku, sprinting down the stairs, startled all three. Spotting Suigetsu sliding to the floor, Haku rushed to his side.

"What happened?" he worried.

"What do you fuckin' think?" The boy inched back. Suigetsu repented. "Sorry. Not at my best."

Haku pushed his hand aside to see. "Where did Gaara go? We saw him leaving."

"Somewhere safe."

The hassle had dulled down. Supposing the opposition was plotting plan B, Naruto figured a briefing was in place.

"Okay", he sighed, "How many here's been shot?" Kankuro and Suigetsu raised their hands. "How many here's done 'em in?"

Sai's hands stayed by his side. No one shamed him for it but instead eyed Haku and his hoisted arm.

"Really?" Kankuro doubted. "You killed a guy?"

"Two", Sai grunted, showing off the meat cleaver still tagging along. Cringes circled the small crowd.

"Ouch", Kankuro glanced at Sai, "You were right 'bout the kitchen utensils."

"No shit."

"So...Now what?" Suigetsu asked between sluggish pants.

Out of many evils, Naruto had trouble choosing. "They're, what, fifteen sixteen guys down? That's 'bout another ten."

Kankuro stated the obvious. "Ten's a lot."

It was, but fearing count wouldn't bring it down. "So is sixteen. What's another ten?"

The small short-lived smiles on otherwise sullen faces strengthened what they needed. Solidarity. But, though less than sixteen, ten was plenty. On the dim bright side, Naruto had made note of the foe's flimsy strategy.

Apart from its bare bones, there was no structure it. For a game plan so obvious, unoriginal and overused, they were wasting the one strength it banked on—fitting formation and tactful timing—and instead ambushed from wherever, took action whenever, and sent lone men against guys that'd taken down two, three by themselves. As if they weren't there to overthrow, but burn daylight at the cost of lives. Human sacrifices. Twenty something against six, now five, soon two, yet they showed no sign of strengthening defense or offence to do in a mere duo. The ratio was off, the odds infeasible. He couldn't figure it out, wanted to, but knew wondering why was a waste of wit he'd need now more than ever. Sentiment did not win wars.

"'Aight. Sai and Haku, take Suigetsu down to the basement and stay there. Haku, look after him." The men nodded. "Kankuro, how's your shoulder?"

The man shrugged to find out. "Ain't too bad."

"Good, you're with me", the blonde decided, opening the door to a cluttered storage room.

From there he grabbed a bunch of bullet proof vests, tossing one to each man. Kankuro, unwittingly bitter, stared at the belated fallback.

"Really? Now?"

He saw Naruto pause to close his eyes, fist clenched, poise rough around the edges as it were. Rather than taking stabs at the man already bending over backwards for everyone but himself, Kankuro's critique quickly dissolved.

"Better late than never", he coughed and put on the vest like the rest had. Haku struggled, he helped.

"Armed?" Naruto asked Suigetsu, who pointed at the Colt tucked down his jeans. "Okay, listen up. The basement code's 4172014."

Sai arched a brow. "The day you met Gaara?"

"Maybe."

"Ah, the classic panic room code. You spoil him."

"Fuck off, we ain't got forever."

Snickering, Sai placed Suigetsu's arm on his shoulders and with Haku in the lead they disappeared downstairs. Left twosome, Kankuro and Naruto brainstormed the next best thing to a plan.

"We gotta keep 'em outta downstairs."

"No, we gotta keep 'em out altogether."

"Do in ten guys at once? Any other genius ideas?"

Naruto paused to think. Oddness occupied his mind.

"You know how to whistle?"

Warm milk and insomnia were frequent visitors at the Nara-Sabaku household. To humor Shikamaru, who'd tossed and turned in bed since ten, Temari stood by the stove in her nightgown humming quietly as she stirred away the skin forming on top of their late night remedy. It bubbled, and so she turned off the stove, searched the cupboard for her favorite mug, Shikamaru's too, and filled them to the brim.

A muffled crash from downstairs startled her. Her hand slipped, the milk spilled. Clutching her chest, she sighed to shake off the scare and dried her mishap with a paper towel. Forgetful of the ruckus many floors below, she grabbed the cups and balanced them across the room. A sharp knock on the front door halted her. Confused, she set the cups down, sneaked down the hallway, and though she hesitated to answer the door at such a late hour, slowly reached for the handle to crack it open.

Behind it stood a man dressed in black, face a secret behind a tinted motorcycle helmet. Surprised, Temari took a step back. The man said nothing, did nothing, and so she took a longer, closer look at him.

"Gaara?"

Shikamaru stumbled into the hallway, groggy, struggling with a t-shirt, and stopped in his tracks at the sight of a masked man standing in his doorway at the ungodly hour of two in the morning. Before he could put on his big boy pants, Temari raised her hand to silence him.

"It's fine", she assured and stepped up to the threshold. "Honey, are you okay?"

As she reached out, Gaara took off the helmet. A buildup of blood trapped inside fell out streaming down his jaw and neck, dripping onto her arm, seeping into the rosy silk of her robe. Horrified, she gasped for air as his vacant eyes stared through her, stiff fingers dropped the helmet and weak legs buckled. He fell to his knees, lost consciousness halfway down and slammed to the floor at his shrieking sister's feet.

"Oh my God! Do something!"

Shikamaru, every bit as aghast, panicked. "Do what?!"

Bruising her bare knees on the rough carpet, Temari desperately tried to wake Gaara. "Just, pick him up, carry him to the couch."

Shikamaru paused, glanced at the 200 and something pounds bleeding on his carpet and questioned whose eyes deceived, for someone's did.

"Have you seen him? He's huge!"

"Fine", Temari huffed, rolling her floor-facing brother around. "I'll do it if you won't."

Head cloudy with frenzy, she truly believed she could have, had Shikamaru not righted her.

"Calm down. Take his legs." Shikamaru grabbed Gaara under his arms and lifted him with a lengthy groan. "My God, how can he be this heavy?"

Stumbling, too, Temari mocked, "Have you seen him?"

Together they struggled Gaara into the living room, laid him on the couch and stood by helpless.

"Now what?" Shikamaru wondered.

Temari knelt beside her brother. "I—I don't know."

"Should we...call an ambulance?"

Sniffling, she rubbed her temples. "We can't. They would call the police."

"So better dead than in the pen?"

"No. Better here than in death row."

She had a point, though shaky. There was no right thing to do. Holding back his hysterics, Shikamaru peeked where the man had bled from. His stomach did a few flips.

"Oh good God, that's—Jesus, that's bad."

Temari hurried to see. "Oh, no, no, no! He's been shot in the head!"

"Are you sure?"

"I grew up in a slum, I know a gunshot wound when I see one. Don't just stand there, do something."

Shikamaru, unversed in gunshot victims withering on his couch, paced around aimlessly while Temari gently laid her head on Gaara's chest. It rose and sank steadily, and though a little here and there, his heart beat strong and stubborn. It soothed her. As she picked up her head, cheek tinted red, his shoulder caught her eye. He'd been hit twice, she realized, and carefully undid the soaked, ripped shirt tied around it to devise a clean, dry swathe from her silk robe, calm while Shikamaru struggled to help. Though his guts rebelled, he'd foolishly but bravely gone through box of tissues to press on the clotting wound. They were thin and flimsy, soaked in seconds, and he fumbling around helplessly.

"Honey", Temari said, placing a cashmere blanket over Gaara for warmth, "bring me the first aid kit, would you?"

"Uh, yeah, of—of course."

He turned, Temari took hold of his hand and smiled. "Thank you."

"Yeah, I'm...I'm sorry. I'm a little new to this stuff."

"I know. You are being very brave."

He chuckled nervously. "And now I feel like a sissy."

"You're not", she promised. "Just...new to this stuff."

Flashing a small smile, he left her threesome with worry and her hurt brother. She sat by him, watching him. Handsome, he was. Strong, nothing like the scrawny kid she'd lost, but still hurt and looking for her. He'd drifted woefully far from scraped knees she'd kissed better. With gentle fingers, she caressed his cheek.

"My poor baby. How do you always find trouble?" Somebody had cared for him, surely, and sent him somewhere safer. "Where'd you leave your angel? I hope he's alright."

The couch was narrow. His limp arm slipped over the edge. Temari took his hand to tuck it under the blanket but held on squinting at a black smudge on his palm. Under flaky blood she rubbed off read something.

Call, it said, scribbled above a blurry phone number. Startled by footsteps from behind, she placed his hand under the blanket. Shikamaru returned with the first aid kit, a chair for her to sit on and now lukewarm mug of milk. Sitting down, she took a small sip.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Of course." He felt too unwell to stay. "Can I…?"

"Sure." Temari pulled him over for a kiss. "Goodnight."

Hugging her cup of milk, she smiled as he walked away, frowned when he'd gone and set down the mug, reaching for her phone to ruin a stranger's good night's sleep.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Gaara got his ass kicked to hell and back again, BUT, I swear it's not shit fucking the fan just to bust a nut. My dramatic ass ain't no shock value whore.

You people got no idea how many days I spent googling to ensure any of this shit show is even remotely medically possible and accurate.

Kids, do not try to resuscitate the dying with meth.