I ran through the hallways of our hideout, breath echoing harshly in my ears and feet hitting the stone floor hard enough to send jolts throughout my whole body. It was essential that I hurry; something terrible was happening. I could feel it in my bones.

Throwing open the door to the lab, I cast my eyes around wildly and let out a choked cry when my gaze landed on the scene before me. Orochimaru was there, leaning over Sasuke's unconscious body and kissing it deeply, sliding his hand down the boy's naked form. At the sound of my entry he drew back, smirking at my horrified expression.

"I love him more than I ever loved you," he told me, cruel mirth glimmering in his gaze. "He is my future. I have no more need for you."

I shook my head furiously. "No! I don't believe you!"

"I haven't given you as much as a glance in the past two months. How long will it take for you to realize I don't care for you anymore?" he laughed, stroking Sasuke's chest with his slender white fingers.

"That's a lie!" I sobbed, sinking to my knees. "You were being wonderful again... we made love again!"

He regarded me coldly. "That wasn't making love. That was payment. Compensation for services rendered. Now you've served your purpose; I have no further use for you."

"No..." I whispered, but I knew it was the truth. He didn't need me anymore. I slumped to the floor, devastated...

I woke in a cold sweat, clawing at the sheets and gasping for air. Everything was dark and I scrambled to turn on the bedside lamp, wincing as the electric light hit my oversensitive eyes and abruptly brought me back to reality.

It had been a dream. Just a dream.

Heaving deep, shuddering breaths, I sat there for a moment, trying to collect myself. Though my eyes still hurt from using Tsukuyomi, it wasn't so painful that I couldn't keep them open, and I stared at my trembling hands with a vague sense of detachment.

Apparently taking out my frustration on my brother hadn't solved much, as a wild tempest of emotion was still raging within me. But instead of the despair I had felt in the dream, my internal storm was predominantly anger—anger at being ignored for two months, only to be used when Orochimaru needed help with his precious Sasuke. I clenched my shaking hands into fists and got out of bed.

I needed to see him again, to have him look me in the eye and validate my existence, and for him to choose me over my brother.

My clothes were stained from the blood I'd cried earlier, and when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror I saw two tracks of dark red crusted to my cheeks. As a shinobi I was no stranger to cleaning up old blood and soon my face was clean and my clothes soaking in a cold enzyme solution.

I dressed in a loose yukata—though it had been unusually cold outside recently, Orochimaru preferred to keep the hideout very well heated, to the point where it was nearly uncomfortable to wear anything more than basic clothing. I assumed it was for the comfort of his snake summons.

Unable to shake the memory of my dream, I opened the door to his lab cautiously, afraid of what I would find. Thankfully Sasuke was back in his tank, floating as listlessly as ever, and Orochimaru was seated at one of the counters, scribbling away at a stack of notes. He didn't look up when I entered, though he addressed me.

"How are you feeling, Itachi-kun?" he asked absentmindedly, shuffling the paper a little.

"Fine," I answered quietly, coming to stand behind him.

"That's good..." he responded, obviously only half-listening. He put down his pen and started to reread what he had written.

Wanting his full attention and utterly fed up with his distractedness, I hoisted myself up to sit on the counter, scattering his notes a little and letting my kimono fall completely open.

"Do you have time for a break?" I asked him lowly, breathily.

Though he had seemed irritated at first at having his paperwork obscured, he was now gazing at my body hungrily. "I think it could be arranged," he said, standing up and leaning in to capture my lips.

His tongue demanded entrance and I welcomed it eagerly, moaning softly into his mouth and letting him pull me off the counter into his arms. I leaned against his strong frame and sighed contentedly as he started kissing along my jawline.

"Thank you so much for helping with Sasuke-kun," he whispered into my ear, sliding his fingers into the gap in my kimono.

That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I didn't want it to be about Sasuke anymore. Couldn't he forget about the damn kid for one minute? Suddenly I couldn't stand to be close to him. I stepped away abruptly.

"I forgot that I have something I have to do," I told him coldly, belting my yukata firmly before turning from his nonplussed expression and walking out of the lab.

Of course I didn't have anything to do, but I couldn't listen to him mention Sasuke one more time. I didn't want him to be thinking about my brother in any way as he undressed me, touched me, bedded me.

I figured now was as good a time as any to make a food run, though we were pretty well-stocked on supplies. I just needed to get out of the claustrophobic rooms and hallways; needed to breathe some fresh air.

It wasn't until I'd started to dress for the cold weather that I realized I was crying.

Outside it was snowing; had evidently been snowing for hours as great drifts of the fluffy white crystals were heaped on the ground. I stared in wonder at the frozen landscape; I had only seen snow once before on a brief mission to the Land of Iron, as it never snowed in the perpetually warm and sunny weather of the Land of Fire. I felt my spirits lift a little to see the beauty of the soft cold blanket spread over the earth. It was lovely; the contrast of whiteness of the snow and the black damp bark of the trees. Just like Orochimaru's alabaster skin and ebony hair...

My sudden good mood ended as quickly as it had begun and I scowled; thinking about Orochimaru was making me angry and depressed. I scooped up a handful of snow and threw it hard at an unsuspecting tree, which made bits of the white powder explode out in every direction and left a good-sized glob of it stuck to the bark. It was very satisfying and I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.

I'd been taught how to hide my footprints in the snow, but I was out of practice and it took me a couple seconds to remember the correct chakra balance. Soon I'd got it down, though, and I was off at top speed through the silent forest, away from the cliffside and the cold gray ocean.

I always took looping, convoluted paths to and from the nearest village (I say nearest, but it was still a good hour's run as the crow flies) in order to throw off anyone who could be tailing me. It was never the same route twice. Maybe I was being paranoid, but both Konoha and Akatsuki were our enemies and I didn't want to risk it, even if there was no evidence that either party was actually actively hunting us.

I got to the village and bought some root vegetables, disguised, as usual, as an elderly man. I had to turn off my sharingan while I was among the villagers, lest they notice the unusual color and pattern and report it to the country's officials. It made me feel vulnerable and blind, to be near strangers and not be using any enhanced vision.

When I left the small settlement with a bag of potatoes and carrots on my back, I immediately reactivated the sharingan and started to scan the vicinity.

It made little difference, as a blow from behind caught me off guard and the world faded to black before I even glimpsed my attacker.

Slowly I regained consciousness. Great throbbing waves of pain rolled through my head and I winced. When I tried to press a hand to my forehead I realized my arms were bound behind my back. My eyes snapped open to register only darkness. Slight pressure over my eyes indicated I was blindfolded.

This wasn't a particularly opportune situation.

I lay in wait, giving no further sign that I had woken, but my efforts were in vain.

"He's awake," said a quiet, unfamiliar voice.

"Good," grunted another voice. This one I recognized easily.

"Sasori?" I rasped. Something sliced across my cheek, leaving behind a burning trail. A poisoned kunai, I guessed.

"Where is Orochimaru?" Sasori demanded. It was his Hiruko voice, deep and intimidating. "Tell me and I'll give you the antidote."

"I don't know," I lied. My anger at Orochimaru wasn't nearly enough to want to betray him. "I thought he was dead."

"He's lying," said the quiet voice that I didn't recognize. It was male and probably only slightly older than me, but that was all I could discern.

"That's easy enough to tell," Sasori replied in a bored tone. "He reeks of Orochimaru." Did puppets have a sense of smell? Evidently yes.

I could feel the poison beginning to work its way through my veins and I gritted my teeth against the excruciating sensation. It felt like I was rotting from the inside out; like the substance was eating away at my flesh and leaving nothing but blackened refuse. I imagined what my skin would look like as my bloodstream decayed.

"That poison will kill you within the hour if you don't get the antidote," Sasori told me.

It was my turn to call his bluff. He couldn't kill me; it would erase his only lead. "Then I suppose I'll make peace with myself before I die," I said calmly.

He scoffed. "Have it your way. I won't kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead." I heard the clattering of his wooden body as well as soft footsteps, and a door closed, leaving me in silence.

The pain was beginning to make my thoughts hazy, but I did my best to work my way through the situation. I was being held captive by Sasori, who I knew to be cruel, ruthless, and experienced in torture. I didn't know if he was working in accordance to Akatsuki's wishes or under his own agency, or even what he wanted with Orochimaru, but it couldn't be good. Holding up to his interrogation would be difficult but not impossible; I had been trained quite thoroughly in resisting torture and I was fairly confident that I could handle anything that was thrown at me. I had no choice; Orochimaru was preoccupied with Sasuke's body and would be at a disadvantage if Sasori were to find him. And I had no guarantee that the puppet master would leave me alive if I gave him what he wanted.

A wave of pain coursed through me and I convulsed involuntarily. The poison's effects had escalated, turning from rot in my blood to maggots that were slowly chewing on my bones. I tried to block out the sensation by thinking of ways to escape, but it was little use: I discovered that my chakra had been suppressed so that even if my bonds or blindfold were removed I would be unable to perform jutsu. Even if I could free myself, I'd be an easy target (and getting free seemed an impossible task, as my bonds held fast even as I writhed and twisted against them until I was panting from exertion).

Orochimaru would come for me, I told myself. But the reassurance rang hollow and false; there was no way he'd leave the hideout, no way he'd leave Sasuke. He would probably assume I'd left for good in my anger; after all, he hadn't even tried to come after me when I'd walked away from him.

I wasn't given to despairing, but as the pain from the poison reached a crescendo I couldn't help but feel hopelessness creep over me.

I may have blacked out, because next thing I knew I was being kicked by a sharp foot in my unguarded stomach. Gasping for air, I curled into a ball in an automatic attempt to protect myself, but the foot simply aimed for my head instead. Poison still gnawed at my veins, far worse from before; I could barely feel the pain from the repeated blows through the absolute agony of the toxin.

"That's enough, Kabuto," I heard Sasori grunt.

"Yes, Sasori-sama," said the quiet voice from before, as the kicking stopped.

Wooden fingers wove through my hair, gripping it roughly and pulling me up so that only my bound legs rested on the floor. The movement aggravated the poison in my body and the resulting pain made me retch, vomiting what little was in my stomach.

Sasori waited for me to finish dry heaving before speaking. "You will tell me where Orochimaru is."

I would have laughed at him, but an intake of breath left me coughing as I choked on blood and vomit. The coughs wracked my body until I could do nothing but hang loosely in Sasori's grasp, biting back moans of pain.

"Tell me," he repeated.

"No," I said weakly.

He was silent for a moment. Then: "Kabuto. Leave us."

Soft footsteps, and a door opening and closing.

Puppet fingers wrapped around my arm, and a needle plunged under my skin. Cool relief washed through me as the antidote took effect. I was released and laid on the stone floor. Rustling and clacking sounds echoed about the room.

"You don't have to struggle like this," Sasori said in a different voice, soft and lilting. Had he shed Hiruko? "What does he even mean to you?" Hard, inhuman fingertips traced across my cheek.

"Everything," I told him. "I won't betray him."

"Foolish child," Sasori chided. "You think I want to hurt him? All I want is to see him again. I didn't get to say goodbye to my treasured partner."

I did laugh that time. "And for that reason you abandoned the Akatsuki and chased him about the countryside? Very convincing."

He heaved a sigh (a theatricality; he didn't need to breathe) and stroked my hair. "Itachi... you should understand. Logic doesn't apply when Orochimaru is concerned."

I did understand. I had never felt even a stirring of emotion for anyone else in my life, including my own family. No one but Orochimaru. I'd loved him before I'd even met him.

Sasori continued. "I need his strength by my side. For me, the Akatsuki is nothing compared to him. Nothing. When I found out he'd left, I was furious. You must understand, we had been partners for years, before you came along, and now I am lost without him." Sasori's wooden hand clenched in my hair painfully. "You ruined everything. I don't understand how he got so besotted with a transient brat like you. You can't be what he needs." The puppet master's voice was as soft and gentle as ever, but I could almost feel the anger radiating off him. "You're just a passing fancy; a brief carnal plaything."

I stayed silent; his words had hit my own insecurities and I didn't trust myself to say anything.

He released my hair and I heard more rustling and clacking, and the door opening.

"He won't come for you," Sasori said confidently in the deep growling voice of Hiruko. "Even you couldn't change him that much." The door clicked shut behind him.

I lost track of time. Days could be passing; weeks, or mere minutes; I could not know. My waking moments were filled with agony as my body was broken, healed, and then broken again in a spiraling cycle of pain.

I was injected with various toxins, which had a wide range of effects; some made me sweat and vomit, others filled my body with fiery pain, and a select few had nearly genjutsu-like effects on my mind, making me see and feel horrors as if they were real. But unlike genjutsu, my sharingan was useless against the visions, and I had no way of guarding against them.

One particularly nasty poison made me lose all sense of my surroundings. I felt nothing, heard nothing, for Lord knows how long, though I must have been screaming because when the poison's effects wore off my throat was raw and bloody.

The food I was given was foul and tasted of chemicals, and though I tried to refuse it, it was forced down my throat.

I succeeded in biting off my own tongue a few times, but Sasori's servant Kabuto was a fast and attentive healer and always seemed to know when I was attempting suicide. My efforts brought me no closer to death.

I hated Kabuto: he healed me, and the pain from the healing was often worse than that of the original wound. He was never kind enough to let me die. And he was a key part of my torture: he used his medical knowledge to inflict as much pain as possible; slowly prying off my fingernails, slicing open my abdomen and tying knots in my organs until they burst, lacing sharp spikes of chakra up my spinal cord so I twisted and screamed from the overload to my nervous system.

I was always healed completely after every torture session, but this was only so more pain could be inflicted the next time.

No matter what was done to me, and no matter that I could see no end to the vicious cycle, I did not betray Orochimaru.

But I was slipping. Sasori's words were a more potent poison than anything he injected into my body, more wounding than any knife. He would come to me and whisper that Orochimaru did not need me, that I did not deserve him. Whenever he talked to me like this I had to fight back tears; it was as if he had seen into my heart and was reaffirming what I already thought to be true.

"Wouldn't it be easier," Sasori asked kindly, "to forget about him? Just give him up. Give him back to me."

I would have. I almost did. But I couldn't; he meant too much to me. He was my world, even if I wasn't his. And so Sasori would leave in disgust.

During one particularly brutal session involving both Sasori and Kabuto, I was pinned to the ground by poisoned metal spikes in my abdomen and shoulders. The poison made me jerk and twitch, which widened the piercings, and though Kabuto kept any of the wounds from actually killing me, I bled profusely.

After the poison's effects had worn off, Sasori lost interest and left the room. I lay motionless in the pool of my own blood as Kabuto removed the spikes and healed my body. It was a slow process, and very painful; I think some of my bones had been crushed by the blunt metal, and their reconstruction was excruciating.

The door slammed open and I cringed involuntarily; I wasn't prepared for Sasori to return so soon, before I was even fully healed.

But instead of the sound of the puppet master's clacking wooden body, I heard a dry, rasping voice; a voice laced with anger and fierce possessiveness; a voice I would recognize even if I went a thousand years without hearing it.

"What have you done to him?" hissed Orochimaru.

Warmth flooded my heart. He had come for me.

tbc

A/N: it's so hard to torture itachi, haha. thanks to all reviewers!