The Badge Chapter 5: The Chief, a naruto fanfic

THE BADGE

Chapter Four: The Chief

eggads_horace
» Fandom: Naruto

» Rating: M

» On Going(WIP)/One-off/Series: WIP
» Classification(s): Humor, Action/Adventure, Drama, Horror, Mystery

» Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Situations
» Pairing(s): Sasuke/Naruto, Neji/Gaara, Shikamaru/Temari… nobody else, yet.

A/N: And the murderer is…?

Chapter Four: The Chief

He guessed that he'd always known, really.

Sasuke was slowly freezing from the inside out, heart cold and ice forming on his lips. Naruto's arms around his waist might have belonged to a stone statue, for all the warmth they gave him, and the two rode the emptying streets of Konoha in complete silence.

The streetname Naruto gave him was close, no more than ten blocks away. It took them all of fifteen minutes to reach it. In that fifteen minutes, Sasuke felt those five meaningless years of separation, of preparation and sacrifice and hollow victory fall away, and he was as uncertain, as unready as he'd been before.

He'd always known that it wasn't over.

Ever since Otogakure, and Orochimaru, and even the fire. Why else had he stayed? He'd known. He just wouldn't have been able to keep living, knowing it was true. So he'd pretended it wasn't.

And now Sasuke was paying for it—

Because he had no leads, no idea what was coming or what to fumble for in the dark.

Because the man with his arms wrapped tight around Sasuke, his legs framing Sasuke's where they rested against the bike's powerful engine, felt as far away and insensible as the moon.

Because he made the last turn and saw a street he knew very well, bathed in the red and blue wash of light from marked police cars and an ambulance.

He drifted to a stop some twenty feet away, eyes taking in the scene, while behind him Naruto eased off the helmet. His breath plumed out like smoke through the drifting flakes.

"This is it," he murmured, cop's eyes scanning the dark street, lingering on the bars and comic book shops. "You can bring the bike closer, but it will be a few hours before we get approval and I can bring you inside. The victim's on the—"

"Eighten floor. Apartment 808B." The cold was getting the better of him. He was starting to shiver hard now, and folded his arms against it. He felt, rather than saw, Naruto's narrowed gaze on the back of his head.

"Sasuke?" he said, slowly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Sasuke stared up at the windows of the apartment. He knew that on the kitchen sill, a sugar bowl and a rather temperamental African violet rested. "Single female victim."

Naruto grabbed his shoulder. "Sasuke. Who?"

"Hebi Karin." Sasuke felt his teeth start to chatter. "My secretary."

"Who th' fuck's that?"

The question was addressed mostly to himself as he eased his car up to the curb, but Neji leaned forward in his seat and said, "Damn, but I am good. Uchiha Sasuke in the flesh."

"Really?" Gaara leaned forward to get a better view as he pulled his keys out the ignition. Skinny guy. Pale face and dark, dark eyes. He was staring at the ground, leaning on the seat of a bike while Uzumaki stood opposite him with his fieldbook flipped open, writing busily. The detective said something without looking up, and the man gave a short, brusque answer.

Beside Gaara, Neji was still talking. "Jesus, I haven't seen Sasuke in years. Maybe not since high school, and even then—" Gaara wasn't listening. He had popped the trunk and was climbing out of the car to grab his kit. Neji scrambled out and fell into step behind him as he slammed the lid closed and crossed to where his partner stood on the powdery sidewalk.

"Uzumaki."

Without turning, the detective held up a finger. "Wait a sec, okay? I'm getting a statement. This is—"

"Uchiha Sasuke. Why do we need a statement from him, exactly?"

Naruto glanced back at him, expression guarded. "The deceased has been tentatively identified as receptionist and general secretary of Uchiha Detective Agency. Sas—Uchiha-san was her employer."

Gaara arched an eyebrow. "Well, isn't that a happy coincidence. And he just happened to be wandering around the site?"

"No," Naruto shot out. "He…"

"He what?"

Naruto looked uncomfortable. "He drove me here. I'm going to ask the chief to sign him on as a civilian consultant."

"You need a private detective to help you do your job?" Gaara drawled.

Naruto flushed. "It's—it's not like that. And if we're pointing fingers, who the hell is that?"

Gaara had almost forgotten about his own little problem. He stole a glance at his one night stand turned extortionist, who smiled ingenuously back. No help there. "He's, uh, Hyuuga Neji. Hinata's cousin," he added lamely.

"Reporter for the Trib," the man added blithely, and Gaara gritted his teeth. "Nice to meet you, Detective."

Naruto got the look all cops shared when confronted with member of the independent media; many people might wear a similar expression if a cockroach crawled out of their cereal bowl. "Re-eally?"

Neji opened his mouth, but Gaara beat him to the punch with a curt, "Can I talk to you?" to Naruto. His partner frowned, but shrugged and flipped the notebook closed. "Stay here," he said to the man on the bike. Uchiha gave a barely perceptible nod, and the two detectives withdrew to the lawn of the apartment complex and safely out of earshot.

Neji watched for a moment as Naruto folded his arms and Gaara began speaking with a pained expression, hand to his head.

"'Akatsuki Ringed'."

He turned back to Sasuke, but it might as well have been the parking meter talking. The man hadn't moved an inch; it was hard to tell if he was even breathing.

"That's me. How's it been, Sasuke?"

The corner of the other man's mouth might have twitched. "Interesting."

"I've heard," Neji said quietly. "I've even written about it."

"It was a good article."

"Hm?"

"The one on Akatsuki."

"And the one on your brother?"

Sasuke's eyes flicked up to his and bore in. "I didn't read it."

There was definitely something going on here. His reporter's nose, numb as it was in the cold, told him that Sasuke had not only already connected the dots, he was starting to believe the impossible. If it was impossible.

"You know, all my sources had Uchiha Itachi as being stone dead in a mysterious fire, two days before that story broke."

Sasuke just looked at him.

"Well? Either he's dead or he isn't. And if anyone should know, it would be you."

Sasuke smiled a little. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? As far as I know, Hyuuga, he's dead."

"Then why are you here?"

Sasuke's eyes gazed past him, into some dark and nebulous memory. "Maybe he just didn't burn long enough."

There was a short silence. Neji very carefully chose his next words, picking and discarding several questions. "Sasuke… Sasuke. I—"

There was a rather interesting noise, the kind you might get if you used a sledgehammer to tenderize meat. Neji was suddenly staring at an empty bike seat and a fist thrust, karate-style, through the space where Sasuke's blank face had hovered in the dark. His schoolmate was on the ground, for the first time looking somewhat human as he clutched his jaw and stared around wildly, flat on his back in the powder.

Neji followed the fist to a face (cheeks and nose red, flyaway blond hair sticking out in all directions, murderous expression in green eyes the color of sea glass), then a body (clad in a lumpy red bathrobe and flannel pajama bottoms), down to feet, where he was confronted with the silliest, loudest pair of orange fuzzy bunny house-shoes he had ever seen in his life.

He… knew this woman.

His gaze wandered back up to her face as she loomed over the fallen man, reaching over the bike and grabbing him by the throat of his jacket to haul him back up to face level. Neji frowned to himself, thinking hard as she whispered poisonously, "I promised that if I ever saw you again, you little piece of shit, my only wish was to get in one good punch, just one, and I'd be happy for the rest of my fucking life."

She cocked her free fist, and Neji rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. Who?

"But you know what?" she growled into Sasuke's rather dazed expression. "I think I need two."

"Sannin Tsunade-soutaichou (1)?"

Neji regretted he'd spoken; the slow turn of her head towards him, her flinty eyes and crazed hair all recalled the gorgon Medusa. "Yesss?" she snarled.

Just keep talking. That had always been his credo; just lay on the charm and never stop pushing and eventually, well eventually you'll get somewhere. Suddenly, he wished his credo went more along the lines of, keep your head down and when they say "Duck," don't pop your head up to listen for quacks, right? Wide smile stretching his numb face, Neji found himself offering his hand and almost snatched it back in horror. "Allow me to introduce myself. Hyuuga Neji, Sannin-soutaichou."

"Any relation to my Hyuuga Hinata?" she asked. Her wrathful expression did not waver. Sasuke felt around for his bike seat and gripped, taking some of the pressure off his windpipe.

"That lovely woman would be my cousin, soutaichou."

"Ah. I see."

"Chief…" Sasuke wheezed out.

Her head whipped back to the unfortunate man and she growled, "Like hell, 'chief', you little rat bas—"

"Soutaichou?"

Her mouth shut, then opened, with deliberate care. Without turning to look at him, she finally ground out, "And what might I be able to do for Hinata-san's cousin tonight, Hyuuga-san?"

He smiled brightly. "There's been some insinuation that Shiki Kaede's death might be related to this latest incident, and I was just wondering if you had any thoughts on the connections between the two murderps—?"

The last word came out a bit garbled, as someone behind him applied a hard and expert chokehold. "Are you fucking crazy?" that same someone hissed in his ear.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neji saw Gaara's blond partner step forward with a look equal parts resignation and weariness.

"Chief, please let go of Sasuke. I brought him."

Tsunade looked at the detective, then at Sasuke. Neji wiggled a little as Gaara tightened his hold, and thought, Wait. Wait. What was that look?

Then she dropped him. With a curse, Sasuke caught himself on the bike and managed to stay upright.

"You brought him," she stated flatly.

"Yes, ma'am," the detective said, gaze steady. Neji was still preoccupied with the look. Yes, it had definitely been a looking kind of look.

She looked down at Sasuke, who was gingerly probing his mouth. "He brought you?"

"I drove him," he corrected, voice rough. A thin trail of blood from his split lip oozed down his chin. "From the morgue."

"And what exactly were you doing sniffing around my morgue, Uchiha Sasuke?"

Sasuke winced as he experimentally rotated his jaw, then gave her a glare of his own. "I was looking at Shiki Kaede. She was my client before she was your dead body."

Although his vision was becoming a bit blurry from lack of oxygen, Neji saw the blond cop stiffen out of the corner of his eye. The chief's face darkened and her mouth worked, but again no sound emerged.

Then her eyes slid back to him.

"And what," she snarled low her throat, "Is your story, Hyuuga Neji?"

Gaara gave a warning squeeze and let him arm drop from around Neji's neck. He stepped out to the side. "He… I—"

Hell, Neji thought as Tsunade's eyes focused on them like baleful lasers. "I persuaded Detective Sabaku that my considerable research into the Akatsuki group and the related Uchiha murders of five years ago would be an asset to this investigation. Our intent was to approach you for civilian consultant privileges."

He saw Gaara shoot him a surprised glance, as if astonished anything so tactful could have issued from his lips.

"Denied," she said shortly. "No reporters."

"Of course," Neji continued as if she hadn't spoken, "standard guarantees of utmost discretion would apply. I have worked as a civilian consultant previously and have some exp—"

"What-part-of-'no'-did-you-not-understand?" she asked, words bitten off in swift staccato. "No civilian consultants." Her sweeping glare encompassed all four of them, hot and angry and not a little homicidal. "No sharing, no special privileges. Nothing."

"Chief," Naruto interjected, but a heavy gloved hand on his shoulder brought all of their attention to Chouji and behind him, his small army of white-suited med techs.

"As much as I hate to break up this little love-fest, we have a lovely girl upstairs missing a few essential body parts. Chief? Can I borrow these two?" Neji could practically see the subtitles forming in the way the examiners brows knitted: Why the hell is it always drama, drama, drama with you people?

Interesting. Neji filed it away for later, along with the looking look.

"Chief," Naruto said quietly. "This newest victim is most likely Sasuke's secretary, Hebi Karin."

She just looked at him. "Go. Work. Both of you. Your civilians stay here."

As he turned to go, Gaara shot Neji an angry, uncertain look. Neji made a small shooing motion with his hand; he could handle this. He would handle this.

Naruto was trying to share a similar exchange with Sasuke, but the man was still staring at Tsunade. After a moment the detective turned and followed Gaara and Chouji into the garish red-blue, red-blue light and into the building.

Tsunade's face was losing the florid color temper had brought it and she appeared to be thinking, lower lip caught between her teeth. Her rage had exaggerated her size; he was surprised to note that she actually rested a good six inches shorter than he did, and a few more shorter than Sasuke. When she finally did look up it was to pin them both with a very sour glare.

"You two, come with me."

Down the street by a block and a half, an innocuous and entirely forgettable foreign model car was parked. The interior was so uniformly dark it was impossible to tell if it was occupied or not, but, on a night like this, the chances were that it wasn't.

The sudden cherry-red glow from the end of a lit cigarette defied the odds.

Loud, happy crunching noises were the only sound in the darkened and soundproofed room, apart from the quiet whirr of the projector and the occasional slurp of flat cola from a supersized cup. Enlarged to fill the viewing room's wall, the feed from the four security cameras of the elevators in Shiki Kaede's building played out in front of Kiba in glorious Technicolor and inescapable dullness. People got on, people got off. People got other people off. Kiba watched in drowsy horror as a grey-haired society matron got down on her knees in front of her much younger companion and got busy as Elevator 3 rose to the eighteenth floor.

He let his head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling, where a large brown water stain marred the speckled tile. "This sucks," he told it. It remained impassive. "I could be working on an extradition from Tahiti. I could be at our second crime scene. Hell, I could be home drinking eggnog with that new receptionist. Instead I'm stuck here, watching wrinkle porn."

A sympathetic huff came from under his chair, and his hand was prodded gently by a cold, wet nose.

"Yeah, what do you care? You're warm. You're fed." Kiba yawned, and began scratching Akamaru's ears. "Dumb dog."

However close they'd been in school, Naruto, Sasuke and Kiba had drifted apart a bit after the academy, the two of them fast-tracking themselves as star officers in Homicide while he chose a leaner existence in the K-9 corps, something he'd never regretted. He spent his first few years training and being trained by Akamaru, then a few working Vice in another precinct. And while he was racking up drug busts and obedience trial trophies in blissful ignorance, Asswipe Uchiha was dragging Naruto deeper and deeper into some godawful mess Kiba still didn't understand.

When Tsunade-soutaichou had called him, a hair-thin quiver of desperation in her voice, he'd dropped everything (well, almost everything. Akamaru got scooped up on his way to the car) to come to Konoha. He didn't regret that, either.

When he'd gotten the call, agreed to her terms and packed his bags to move to the big city, seen that face again after so many months away, it had been a reminder of something that was always in the back of his mind when he thought of Naruto, even now. Especially now, now that Uchiha had popped up again like a bad penny.

It was silly. It was stupid. It was completely apart from his genuine love for Naruto as a friend and the general sense of exasperation the man tended to inspire in all who knew him. It was something he was surprised to realize was on his mind, when he did realize it was there. It made him feel vaguely guilty to be thinking about it now, when Naruto was probably really suffering… but the two of them together were the whole problem in the first place.

The question was, quite simply, this:

What is it, exactly, that turns a straight man with no previous observable thoughts or inclinations towards gayness, into a raving homosexual nympho who, if rumor was to be believed, would fuck a classmate he didn't even particularly like through the bathroom floor? And then (forgive him, Naruto) cause that man to fall for that classmate so hard that he's nearly suicidal when the aforementioned classmate drops his ass to run off on some vendetta?

Kiba returned his gaze to the elevators, noting with some relief that the older woman and her paramour had moved on. He loved Naruto, like he said. He'd listened to Tsunade's request. He'd looked around him. The people in his old precinct were his friends, are his friends even now, and they were and are perfectly nice. Some things just trump that. So, after a temp job to give his sudden appearance some credence, he made the move permanent.

He loved Naruto, but he knew he didn't love him romantically. Nor did he find him sexually attractive. But they connected so deeply on so many things, cared about so many of the same things. They'd been friends since grade school. So what was it? What did it?

He'd gotten to Konoha, gotten to his new desk, and there waiting for him had been Detective Aburame Shino: tall, dark, with a certain stillness about him that said he was watching the world much more closely than it was watching him.

His eyes had met that dark, inscrutable gaze, and the niggling thought in the back of his mind had—not jumped, exactly, but suddenly he was very aware that he was thinking it, that he'd been thinking it nearly continuously since the day before when he'd told Naruto he was staying and the man had thrown his arms around him like a child. What would do it?

And to his surprise and utter confusion, something inside him had looked at Aburame that first time and had said, that.

It hadn't been a magical epiphany. The Pride Parade fairy hadn't snuck up and smacked him with the pink pimpstick of gayness. But all the same, even though nothing had changed and there was literally no fucking way one guy of all the freaking guys he'd been looking at (all right! He admitted that he was looking!) was enough to turn him fruity, he'd blushed so hard his skin felt crisped.

The man had stared, and for a moment Kiba had been afraid he wasn't going to let it go—

but they'd ended up ignoring it entirely and carrying on with getting acquainted. Kiba wasn't suddenly tongue-tied, wasn't even really embarrassed (he told himself). He quashed the whole bungled tangle of awkwardness and a strange excitement down and functioned normally, which was for him functioning noisily and completely without restraint.

When someone reminded him about it months later, he'd laughed and said, "It was love at first sight, right, Shi-chan?" Aburame had merely stared at him. Kiba had changed the subject.

There was something. In some dark part of his soul he knew and admitted it. There were times he still just felt so damn awkward, and he wondered what it was about his partner that could make him so edgy.

Gradually, Detective Aburame-sempai became Shino, who liked American beer and film noir movies and had a weird, weird thing for bugs. They were partners, and they did what partners did. When they got too drunk to get home, they snuck in and slept in the precinct cells, Kiba on the top bunk, Shino on the bottom. When Kiba accidentally knocked over Shino's posh antfarm, the livid detective had stood over his partner and made him pick up each and every one of the 1,584 ants from the office carpet. When Akamaru broke his leg in a gopher hole, it had been Shino who drove the hyperventilating Kiba and his whimpering dog to the veterinarian's. They ate pizza and watched college football on Sundays, and stayed the fuck out of each other's private lives. It was good. Kiba liked it that way.

Then Shino ruined it.

He'd asked why.

Kiba rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand, speeding through the footage of the empty elevators, and resuming play when a bored-looking socialite appeared, stabbing the button for the eighth floor with inch and half long coral nail. The other hand delved into the striped box on the desk beside him, fishing out a cold, greasy handful of original recipe and tossing it into the shadowy recesses under his desk. It never hit the floor, and the loud crunching noises resumed.

"Chicken bones are bad for dogs."

Kiba resisted the urge to shriek, and once he'd gotten his breath under control swiveled slowly to face the object of his frustr—no. Ruminations. He even managed to summon a smile from somewhere.

"Akamaru's smart. He knows not to swallow them."

They were drunk again, at least this time for good reason and on higher quality booze. Even the normally imperturbable Shino's eyes were glassy with the celebratory champagne of their ascension to second star detectives.

Kiba supporting Shino, they made their way to the bed where Kiba intended to dump his partner like a sack of potatoes. "Heave-ho," he laughed, and shoved. Shino hit the bed like a felled tree.

"Ow, fucker," the detective mumbled into the comforter. He rolled over onto his back, half-closed eyes on the ceiling fan. "Kiba?"

He'd turned to go, and almost toppled himself turning back. "Wha'?" he slurred.

"You remember your first day, right?"

"'Course."

He'd been swaying dangerously, and without his consent his body suddenly dropped onto the bed next to his partner. Shino turned his head, gold eyes fathomless in the dim room.

"Al'us wanted to ask…" he mumbled.

Through the heady warmth of the bubbly, a sudden icy flash of apprehension had Kiba's voice quavering. "A-ask what?"

Those eyes, heavy lidded and sleepy, stared into him like they could see the panicky little thoughts behind Kiba's eye: no, no, please don't ask.

But he did.

"Why did you blush?"

"What's all this?"

"Just looking through the elevator tapes, playing Sweet Haruko."

Why did you blush?

Shino gave a slow, crooked smile and asked the obvious. "'Sweet Haruko'?"

Why are you blushing?

Kiba turned his back on him. "Like this," he said, a little too brightly, clicking through the times he'd flagged, bringing one up on the screen. "The building is a little classier than your average motel, but it's still got the same patrons. See this threesome?"

Shino leaned in over his shoulder, a little too close for comfort. "One of them's a prostitute?"

"You get a nose for it in Vice. Watch them—there, see her body language?" Kiba was trying very hard not to notice Shino's. "Her clothes are expensive, and her make-up is well done. But she has no jewelry, no purse, and her hair color is too brassy to be from anywhere other than a box." There were other things, in the way she smiled and subtle relation of space between the three. It was hard to explain all the tells to someone who didn't understand terms like Sweet Haruko.

"I guess the eighteenth precinct taught you something after all," Shino said, practically in his ear, and a hot little shiver tried to work its way down his back. Was the man doing this deliberately?

And wasn't that a scary thought…

Because even if Shino didn't seem to remember any of it, "Why did you blush?" wasn't the only question he'd asked that night.

Kiba cleared his throat, and leaned a little away from that warmth. "I was just a lowly member of the canine unit. My old sergeant could probably tell you what district she walks just by looking."

"What about that one?"

Shino's attention had been caught by a darker woman in a long black coat, refreshing her lipstick on her way into the elevator as the threesome exited. The woman identified as a professional caught the other's eye, and winked.

"Catch that?" Kiba murmured. "A little recognition among peers. What's more, I recognize her. But from where…?"

"Done much streetside shopping under the red lights, have you?" Shino asked dryly. He sat down and pulled his chair closer to the monitor.

Kiba waved a hand vaguely, his eyes never leaving the screen. "That's not it." He checked the digital timestamp on the video, a growing excitement tightening his throat. "Right in range for the murder."

"And the right floor," Shino added as the woman exited the elevator car.

Kiba started typing, discomfort from his partner's nearness falling away at the prospect of the chase. Akamaru sensed the change in his mood and moved his head to rest it in Kiba's lap, eyes rolled up to watch his face.

"We need to find when and where she left," Shino breathed.

"I'm working on it."

"Do you remember where you've seen her yet?"

"…yeah."

After a few more seconds of furious mouse movements, Shino prodded, "Well?"

"Hn?"

"The whore, Kiba, where have you seen her?"

"Oh," Kiba muttered distractedly as he isolated the feed from the woman's elevator. "The last time I saw her, she was performing one of the more gymnastic Kama Sutra poses with Shiki-san's husband."

(2)

Sasuke took a sip of his tea, swirled it around his mouth, and swallowed convulsively. He was reasonably sure that Tsunade would not have laxative or otherwise dangerous herbal brews lying around for his chance visit, and so could drink with confidence. Seated next to him, Hyuuga followed his lead and sipped; his small grimace into the steaming cup went unnoticed.

Even if she couldn't poison them outright, she could give them the most disgustingly floral crap she had on hand.

Across the table, Tsunade faced them over her own mug, idly stirring in sugar—apparently unperturbed by their presence in her home. The silence stretched uncomfortably as she continued to stir, spoon scraping the bottom of the mug with a soft metallic screech.

The mystery appearance of the chief of police in her robe and slippers had been explained when the woman had snapped out the order to follow her and had lead the two down the street to a smaller gingerbread Victorian. Her instructions from then on had been monosyllabic. In. Sit. Here. Milk?

He hadn't realized how close they'd been, and felt a small thrill of horror when realizing how many times, visiting Karin, he'd been risking sudden death.

Hyuuga was gazing around as well as he could out of the corners of his eyes, drinking in the space revealed under the ancient yellow kitchen light. Sasuke didn't dare let his eyes stray far from his former chief's face, but he knew the place well enough. Classic furniture and faded country colors, and something spicy and sweet drifted from the potpourri bowl on the coffee table in the living room. Kitsch and checked curtains made appearances here and there, concessions to the owner's status as a fifty-plus-year-old woman, but the overall effect was classic and feminine. The entire house was like that, everything matching and just a bit too small.

It made his skin crawl.

The clock on the wall opposite him, almost lost in the flowery wallpaper, was the loudest thing in the room. The heat turned on with a rumble and quiet whoosh. The chief finally tapped her spoon on the rim of the cup and set it on her saucer, then folded her hands around the mug. Her nails were short and unpainted, and her knuckles were scarred. She'd never been afraid of getting her hands dirty.

"You." Tsunade looked up suddenly and pinned Hyuuga to his seat with a glance.

The man started. "Sannin—?"

"You haven't known Detective Sabaku for very long, have you?"

The man frowned, but admitted, "No, soutaichou."

"He has a violent temperament and something of a handicap that makes him a bit of a liability from a PR standpoint. Do you know what that handicap is, Hyuuga-san?"

The frown remained. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I follow."

"Detective Sabaku hates humanity, Hyuuga-san. He is not in our department to serve the community, and in fact has told me more than once that the community 'can fuck off and die'. As a facet of this, he reacts badly to all kinds of physical contact, including contact with his own sister, my lieutenant."

Sasuke's brows lifted, imperceptively.

"Soutaichou?" Neji still sounded puzzled.

"I find it an interesting coincidence, then, that the man he brings to a crime scene and who then proffers himself as an 'expert consultant', is the same man Sabaku feels comfortable touching so intimately…" and here, for the first time, Tsunade gave her trademark dark Cheshire smile. "… and is currently sporting a nice, new hickey the size of my fist."

Neji slowly raised a hand to his neck and Tsunade leaned back in her seat, legs crossing. "What can you possibly offer that might tempt me to hire you?" She shifted to stare at Sasuke as well. "Either of you? A goddamn fuckbuddy reporter and an ex-cop who, as far as I am concerned, is as much a suspect as 'expert consultant' material?"

Sasuke absorbed that as Neji shot back, "If you read the news at all, soutaichou, you know my name and my work. I'm an investigative reporter with nearly a decade of experience and a Pulitzer prize, not some hack working for the National Enquirer. My relationship with Detective Sabaku began before I was assigned this story, and it has no bearing on my interest in this case. I can help you." He paused to take a breath. "With my previous research and sources, which are extensive, I personally know more about the probable history of these cases than anyone but the murderer. If we consider how much they resemble those presumed committed by Uchiha Itachi—"

"We're not."

'Presumed committed'. What a lovely term.

Neji's jaw clenched. Then, "They never found his body."

Sasuke, eyes tracing the grain of the cherrywood table, felt the side of his mouth curl into an expression caught between a grin and grimace. Because it burned to ashes, along with three blocks of riverside property.

Neji unconsciously leaned in. "He might have gone into hiding. Belonging to Akatsuki, he certainly had the resources. The pattern is the same. Young women, mutilation and torture."

Eyes.

Sasuke didn't realize he spoken, until Tsunade echoed him, quiet tension in her tone. "Eyes?"

She had been waiting for this moment. Her eyes remained on her tea as he looked up. She deliberately lifted her cheery yellow mug and drank, and spoke with it still held close to her face.

"Is this why you've crawled back out of whatever rock you've been under, Uchiha? I'd think," she said with pleasant certainty, "That you would know he was dead, better than any of us."

He guessed he'd always known, really.

"I've wondered."

Hyuuga closed his damn mouth for once, and dropped his eyes to his tea. He appeared to be divining the secrets of the universe from the leaves floating in the bottom, but Sasuke could practically see his ears perk.

"Ever since Orochimaru."

The chief did not react to the name of the man who had once been one of her closer friends. She had the air of a well-camouflaged adder in the grass, on seeing some small and oblivious mouthful passing by.

"Naruto stopped me from knowing for sure."

"He stopped you," Tsunade mused, eyes still on the depths of her mug, "from standing over a burning body in a warehouse that was also burning, and about to collapse on both your heads. Yes," and here she set her mug down on the table, not hard, but with a solid noise that spoke of cold fury. "You used your authority as an officer of the law, your partner and your precinct to hunt down a man, your brother, who was never convicted of any crime. You nearly died doing it. And Naruto nearly died with you."

She lifted her eyes, and Sasuke understood that this was what his former chief found unforgivable.

The clock, a replica in the 1950s style, ticked loudly as the heat turned off with a low mechanical groan. Hyuuga might have been a lawn ornament for all the sense of life he gave.

Sasuke's tea was cold now, but he drank it anyway to wet his lips. He set the mug down, and said, "I never—"

Three sharp knocks rang out like gunshots in the small space, and Hyuuga actually jumped in place.

"It's us," came Gaara's gruff, muffled voice.

Tsunade was still gazing meditatively at Sasuke, only the whiteness of her fingers where they gripped her mug belying her calm expression. For a moment, her gaze traveled between her two unwilling guests, heavy as a lead weight.

"Come in."

Naruto brought his hand down and rubbed his knuckles, stamping his snow-caked boots a few times on the wide WELCOME that greeted them at the doorstep. The house was a lone island in an ocean of snow, the street and sidewalk barely discernable from the lawn.

"What are you waiting for?" Gaara growled. He rubbed his arms spasmodically, tucking his fingers into the crooks of his arms and rocking forward. "Open the fucking door!"

"Just praying for a miracle," Naruto mumbled.

Gaara's lips twisted into a dire smile. "Amen."

"Gaara…"

"Mmm?"

"…nothing." Naruto grabbed the knob and pushed open the door.

A wave of cinnamon-scented warmth rolled over them and dragged them in, an undertow of sweet fragrance. Naruto heard Gaara sigh appreciatively as he slammed the door shut on the seeking winter wind.

"In here."

The two detectives glanced at each other. Gaara made a questioning face, and Naruto shrugged and shook his head. He couldn't tell anything by her tone.

They walked through the petite dining room to the kitchen, where Sasuke and Gaara's reporter faced the chief across a low fruitbowl with a doily base. Naruto very carefully avoided looking at Sasuke, and gave his full attention to his chief. She stood, sliding her chair back against the wall and clasping her hands together.

"Boys," she began, "We were just finishing here. Hyuuga."

"Yes?"

She tapped her chin with her folded hands. "You will be given clearance, Hyuuga-san."

"Th—"

"I'm, not, done," she sang out softly. The reporter shut his mouth with a snap.

"You will not be paid." She took her mug and brought it over to the sink, turning on the faucet and idly rinsing the leaves from inside of it. "Your participation means that you will not report on nor give material to others to report on this investigation for its duration of activity, up to and including any arrests. This ban will be lifted at time of trial." She set the mug on the counter and turned to fact them all. "Your participation is limited to consultation only. There will be no undercover operations. There will be no fieldwork." She gave a thin smile. "Believe it or not, I have read your work, and with great interest. What you lack in tact you make up for in sheer tenacity, and your talent for persuasion and deception continually amazes. If you fuck with me, you'll just wish I'd killed you. And Detective Sabaku will shortly thereafter find himself on the wrong end of an Internal Affairs investigation."

Beside Naruto, Gaara shifted uncomfortably.

"Are we clear?"

"Crystal," the man responded bemusedly.

"Uchiha."

Sasuke, his gaze never having left her, said nothing.

Naruto, who had been tensing for this moment, blurted out, "Chief."

The woman who had been like a mother to him looked up, eyes suddenly tired.

"Could I talk to you?"

"Detective—"

"Chief—"

"Detective."

He closed his mouth.

She walked toward him, then past him, into the dark foyer. Naruto turned to follow her without looking at the other guests.

When his eyes adjusted, he saw her sitting on the steps leading to the second floor and went to her.

"As a detective of mine, you are recommending to me," she began softly, evenly, "That I allow you to involve a civilian in an investigation. That is, by itself, questionable. As my detective, you are recommending a man, an ex-officer who has proven to me professionally that he is unreliable, untrustworthy, and a genuine danger to those around him. A man who is, beyond all doubt in my mind, at least once a murderer." Naruto would have spoken at this, but she laid a hand on his arm, and continued more gently. "More than that, you are asking me to let you hurt yourself." Her expression was almost tender.

"Chief…" She held up a hand.

"If your decision as primary on this case is that this man will be an asset to your investigation, I will abide by it. But I will do everything in my power to prevent you from coming to harm because of it. If I think it necessary, I will remove you from the case."

She held his eyes unblinkingly. He nodded, slowly.

"Both of the victims knew him, chief. The methodology was pretty well publicized, but Sasuke's involvement was not. Whoever is doing this knows he was involved, and knows what these murders will invoke for him. They're targeting Sasuke as much as they're targeting the women around him."

"Then watch him. Watch him every second of every day and don't let him surprise you again. Naruto." She smiled, a little, then rubbed both hands over her face with an heavy sigh. "My God, but this is such a horrible idea. Nothing good will come of it. How can you do this to your poor old 'baa-san?"

Naruto smiled wistfully into the dark. "I didn't see it coming, either."

Sasuke's stipulations were explained in a few short, curt sentences on Tsunade's return to the room, with an extra that surprised Naruto.

She plucked the receiver from the wall, dialed a number, and slid the ringing phone across the table to Sasuke. "The answering machine will pick up. Say your name. Tomorrow at beginning of the first shift, we'll hold a task force meeting in the second floor conference room. Say I want them there. Then hang up. Got it?"

Sasuke gave her a cool stare, but repeated into the receiver what he'd been told. When he'd ended the call, Tsunade took the phone back and replaced it. With her back to them, she said, "Now get out, all of you. It's late, and you've got somewhere to be at 0700."

They got out.

A fitful wind moaned through the buildings, flakes driving down in heavy sheets and muffling the noise their trudging made. The snowfall had made the streets invisible but for tire tracks, and by mutual agreement they moved there and walked in the ruts made by those who had braved the blizzard.

"It's two o'clock," Neji suddenly muttered. "I need to get things together and print copies. Some of my files are in my desk at the press building. Gaara?"

"Is that a request or a d-demand?" the man responded grumpily, teeth chattering.

"Pretty please?"

Gaara shrugged, as much as he could with his hands buried in his pockets and shivers wracking his entire body. "Whatever."

He gave Naruto a slidelong glance. "Either of you t-two want a ride?"

After a pause, Naruto spoke to the ground. "Can't leave the bike. And I'm babysitting, per the chief's orders."

Sasuke said nothing.

They reached the car, still parked next to the morgue van. Naruto got a medtech to promise to tell Chouji about the meeting, while Gaara and Neji drove off into the snowstorm with a dour, "Merry fuckin' Christmas," from the detective.

"It's impossible to ride in these conditions."

He'd expected something like that, but he still said, "You were doing just fine before."

"The snow wasn't as deep, earlier." Sasuke put the bike in neutral, and rolled it forward experimentally. He began to walk away down the street, and Naruto hesitated a bit too long before he caught him by the elbow. Still, the contact sent a little jolt of reaction up from his fingertips.

The man kept his gaze down, not meeting Naruto's eyes. "Let go."

"No. Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Sasuke gave him his eyes then, and Naruto almost wished he hadn't. They look glazed and dead, like marbles in a face made of bone china. "Go home, Naruto. I'll be at the meeting tomorrow."

"I'm not—" I not letting you out of my sight. The second I take my eyes off you, you'll vanish. I don't trust you. I can't trust you, not anymore. "I'm not letting you go anywhere alone. Your employee and your client are dead."

"Tsunade thinks I did it."

Naruto's hand spasmed where it gripped Sasuke's arm, then slowly released him. Sasuke watched him for a moment, then turned fully to face him. The streetlight flowed over his shoulders but left his face in shadows, so that his next words seemed to well up from someplace dark and far away. "It hadn't occurred to you?

"She may not really believe it, not yet, but she'll spend tonight wide awake because you're the grandchild she never had, and by morning she'll realize it's the most logical explanation." His tone was smooth and matter-of-fact, alarmingly so, but his words were starting to come faster and faster. "I'm already a murderer in her eyes. Who better," he continued, "would know the pattern, the modus operandi? Who links the victims?"

"Sasuke," Naruto finally broke in. "No."

Sasuke gave a little chuckle and Naruto flinched. "A man already suspected of murder and arson and who, more importantly, is still alive and kicking makes a much better suspect than ashes. Who knows? Maybe he had something to do with it the first time around. It might even be hereditary… he's just taken five years longer than his brother to go completely insane."

"Sasuke," Naruto said, almost sighing the words, "not you. Never you."

"You don't know that. You don't know me." The words came as quick and violent as a slap.

A small, nasty part of Naruto wanted to ask Sasuke if this was a confession, as the words, "Damn right I don't!" jumped to the tip of his tongue.

Another part saw… deeper.

Naruto had known him, known him inside and out, backwards and forwards, and the Sasuke standing in front of him might have a few more scars but it looked like he was still the same stupid bastard who mistrusted everything and believed the world was going to hurt him unless he hurt it first. The only person he'd ever babbled to like this had been Naruto. Even if he didn't realize it, he was practically begging for reassurance, and with that realization came a flash of insight.

He wouldn't have called it an epiphany; no hallelujah chorus descended and he sure as hell didn't see any chariots of fire. But the stranger in front of him became, for an instant, the man he'd loved. For that, Naruto could swallow the angry words and say only, "You're not insane. And you're not going anywhere alone. The sooner you understand and accept that, the sooner we can get out of here."

Sasuke was still. Snowflakes had settled in his hair and on his clothes, and as Naruto watched a hard shiver dislodged a melting clump from the collar of his jacket. He must be ridiculously cold, Naruto realized. He was all in leather, for God's sake. He added, "There's no point in splitting up. By the time we both made it home in this, it'd be time for the task force meeting."

Sasuke moved his head a fraction and suddenly his face was flooded with light. He was staring at Naruto with what was almost despair in his eyes. But he only said, "My apartment is at the other end of the city."

"My place, then. It's closer to the precinct building, anyway." Naruto turned in the right direction and began trudging forward through the knee-high accumulation of snow. After a moment, Sasuke appeared at his side and they walked with their backs to the wind, the bike between them.

They had reached the end of the block before Sasuke asked, "On Fourth?" The apartment they'd shared.

"No. I moved."

After that, the silence closed in over their heads like deep, still water.

He still avoided that part of town, the restaurants and stores they'd used, the parks and playgrounds and places they'd walked and known. Hell, he'd even avoided cereal aisles for months because it made him remember Sasuke's brief but torrid love affair with Frosted Cheerios, and there was nothing more pathetic than a man driven to drink by a good part of this balanced breakfast.

Sasuke had been operating his detective agency in the city for nearly a year before Naruto had come across his business card. Then he'd begun avoiding that part of town, too. If he remembered correctly, the office was as far from their old neighborhood as it was possible to be and still remain in city limits.

Avoiding me? he silently asked the man next to him. Avoiding memories? Or was the rent cheaper?

The blizzard felt as though it had softened. The snow still fell, but listlessly, and was no longer driven in sheets before the wind. They passed beneath lamp after lamp, the electronic buzz loud against the whispering susurrus of snow over snow (3). Their footsteps had a soft, powdery crunch to them, the wheels of the motorcycle a low, continuous grinding as they rolled.

In forty minutes they had turned onto his street. His apartment building looked like a gingerbread confectionary, the well-meaning but tasteless occupants of the bottom floors having expressed their seasonal cheer in seas of plastic and miles of filament.

"This is it," he said to Sasuke, pointing out the building. "I'm on the third floor, so the bike…" He looked up a smaller side street as they crossed it, and froze.

"Sasuke," Naruto said softly, eyes staring ahead into the whirling flakes. He felt a slow, creeping chill that had nothing to do with the cold. "Sasuke. Stop."

Sasuke slowed beside him. "What?"

Naruto swallowed, hard.

There… was his car.

There was his car, parked neatly and inconspicuously in its habitual spot at the corner. The bumper was exactly perpendicular to the parking meter. There was barely any snow on it.

"Naruto, what is it?" Sasuke repeated.

In response, Naruto drew his gun. Sasuke let out a low curse and drew his as well, their safeties clicking off simultaneously as Naruto began moving low and slow towards the vehicle. Abandoning the bike on the curb, Sasuke fell into step behind him, turning in crouching pirouette to sweep the street. "What is it?" he hissed.

"Car. Cover me."

While Sasuke stood facing the street in a loose three-point stance, Naruto approached the battered hulk of his ancient Chevy. It looked somehow sinister in the dim streetlight, even with its mismatched side panels and rusted wheel wells. Patient. Waiting. Alien.

He had a flashlight now, and shone it down the barrel of his nine-millimeter into the dark windows. Empty.

"Is this any car in particular?" Sasuke asked, still staring down the street with his weapon trained on the ground. His tone was dry, but underlying tension gave the words an edge.

"My car." Naruto began to feel very carefully along the undercarriage, then the underside of the bumper. "Someone took it from the morgue… and put it here."

Sasuke was quiet for a moment.

"Naruto," he said very softly. "Your trunk is open."

It was cracked a bare centimeter, a small piece of dark fabric protruding from the gap. He stared at it from his position by the passenger side back wheel, then slowly rose. One hand reached for his cell.

The other reached for the lid.

"Don't—!" Out of the corner of his eye, Naruto saw Sasuke whirl around as he pulled the trunk open, jacket wrapped around his fingers. Heard him suck in a breath and hold it for a beat.

Two beats.

And close, too close, a car roared to life and wheels spun with a wild scream. Sasuke's pistol snapped around and the rest of Sasuke followed as the beam of Naruto's flashlight swept up and silhouetted the barest suggestion of a vehicle against the night. Then the red glow of taillights whipped around a corner and was gone.

For a moment, Naruto thought Sasuke would go after it. His gun was up, his body tensed to move, and the motorcycle was lying just a few yards away. Naruto would be left alone on this empty streetcorner, and it would fall to him to wait for help or for something to come for him in the dark.

Then Sasuke turned and pinned him with a deathly glare. "What's in the trunk, Naruto?"

Naruto took too long answering, and Sasuke repeated the question.

"… no obvious body parts, if that's what you're asking."

The glare never wavered.

Naruto looked into the dark recesses, and saw something glint.

Sitting on top of the bits and pieces of crime scene kits, water bottles and tangled jumper cables was a small, dainty box. It had tasteful black ribbon tied around it and into a bow. Without having sensed him move, Naruto was suddenly aware of Sasuke beside him, bracing his gloved hands on the edge and leaning forward to stare intently at the contents.

Mutely, Naruto pulled a pencil stub out of his pocket and used the sharpened end to carefully tease the bow apart. The tip hovered at the edge of the lid, then at Sasuke's hoarse "Do it," carefully nudged it open.

There, nestled in the cotton backing, was a worn necklace. Naruto's pencil slipped under the loops of gold and drew it gently up, and small pearls glowed dully in the harsh beam of the flashlight.

They shared an expressionless glance, and by silent agreement Naruto eased the necklace off his pencil and flipped open his cell to punch in Dispatch.

Whoever the murderer was, they had decided a morgue secretary made fair game.

"Sai. Sai." She giggled. "Sai!"

"Mmm?" The man murmured into her collarbone, breaking the suction of his lips with a wet pop. "Did I mention how much I love this dress? Strapless is so sexy…"

"'M going in now."

"Yes, let's."

Sakura giggled again, drunk as a skunk and giddy with it, hallway revolving around her in majestic sweeps of light and dark. She gave a little female groan as his leg rubbed up between hers, and tried to pull out of his arms. "Sai! Bad boy!"

He moved in closer, and grunted when a well-placed punch to the stomach knocked him back. "Oww, you hag," he sighed into her ear.

She giggled again, and tugged his head up by the hair, so she could see his face. So she could remember why she wasn't letting him in.

God, she was horrible.

"No. I'm going in. You're going home." She kissed him, chastely, and ducked back when he tried to catch her lips with his own. She turned and fumbled for her keys with her good arm, and Sai embraced her from behind, placing a few soft kisses along her exposed neck. He barely avoided a swing from her cast, and good-naturedly grumbled, "Tease."

Something in Sakura flinched even under the several Long Island iced teas sloshing through her system. She covered it by noisily shoving her key in the lock and twisting.

Door opened a crack, she turned to look at him. Unlike her, he was still in office clothes, cheap suit rumpled and shirt partially unbuttoned with tie dangling out his pocket. Her coral lipstick brightened his normally pale face, one loud print centered on his cheek.

For a moment, the present and the past converged in her eyes, and she turned away hastily before he saw her expression.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. We have to review the Mikami case before our two o'clock meeting, don't we?"

Sai let out a melodramatic sigh behind her. "Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow."

She shoved the door the rest of the way open as his footsteps sounded down the hall, and closed the door on his retreating back. She let out a short breath she'd been unaware she was holding and rubbed her forehead, kicking off her shoes and walking barefoot into the darkness of her small apartment. She opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting off the top as she used the edge of her cast to tap the blinking button of her answering machine.

A/N: Dear Lord, the drama! Go read "Hot" before you get tragedy-poisoning.

Index:

1 – (Soutaichou) – Head captain/chief. I'm unsure as to whether this obviously military term could or should be applied to Tsunade, but I decided to run with it. Run, run.

2 – (Kiba x Shino) – I think that three main pairings may be too much. It feels… cluttery… so! Kiba might get his own side story to blush in.

3 – (susurrus) – Awesome word. I want to get it tattooed somewhere.

Days:

Prologue: Monday Night

Chapter One: Tuesday

Chapter Two: Wednesday

Chapter Three: Also Wednesday

Chapter Four: Mostly Thursday, with some very late Wednesday and scattered flurries.

Cast of Characters:

Murderer: …?

Victim(s): Shiki Kaede-san, Hebi Karin

Detectives (by partner): Uzumaki Naruto and Sabaku Gaara, Inuzuka Kiba and Aburame Shino, Yamanaka Ino and Hyuuga Hinata, Nara Shikamaru (and Sabaku Temari)

Lieutenants (by partner): Sabaku Temari (and Nara Shikamaru), Hatake Kakashi and -?

Chief: Tsunade

Reporters: Tenten, Rock Lee, Maito Gai and Hyuuga Neji

Uchiha Detective Agency: Uchiha Sasuke, Hozuki Suigetsu, Jugo (and then there were three)

Medical Examiner's Staff: Akimichi Chouji