Ino woke to darkness and silence.

No—that wasn't right. Rolling onto her side, she opened her eyes. One nagging patch of brightness lit the dim space, emitting a low, electronic buzz.

She sat up, head swimming as she tried to remember where she was. Tried to pick out a silhouette, a familiar sign, anything that might remind her of what had happened.

And then she saw the man in the chair.

He was slumped over a desk, his dark hair in an unruly ponytail that stuck up over the back of his chair. Beyond him, she discovered the source of the persistent brightness. A wall of screens glowed blue, so vivid in the darkness that she had to squint to see him properly.

Shikamaru.

Memories of the mission came back to her in pieces—rain, a forest, a shogi board. The strange, too-bright version of Konoha. A hundred tiny details, coalescing, then splintering again. Her temple throbbed with pain. When she tried to push herself up, her right arm buckled beneath her and she yelped.

She'd forgotten that too.

But Shikamaru didn't react to her distress, even as she struggled back to her feet—his attention was fixed on the wall in front of him.

Though the entire wall was covered in the screens, only four were functioning. Each one showed a battle, the picture grainy. Even with the images partly obscured by Shikamaru's back, Ino knew them almost instantly.

In the bottom left-hand corner, Shikamaru's first command played out in horrific detail. Moments he couldn't possibly have witnessed followed one after the other: Choji, collapsing in a heap; Neji Hyuuga with gruesome holes in his chest.

On the screen above that, an even more familiar scene—one Ino had replayed a thousand times in her own nightmares. Asuma-sensei, caught in Hidan's trap, moments from death.

To the right, a Tailed Beast Bomb obliterated Central Command. Their fathers died in agony.

And below that, a mission so far in the past that Ino had nearly forgotten it. The image focused on a rocky field, just as an impossibly young Ino jolted up from a Mind Possession with a kunai at her throat and an enemy leering down at her.

Shikamaru's shoulders shook. Tears streamed down his face and through his splayed fingers.

"Failures," he muttered. "All failures. I failed everyone. Choji, Asuma, my father, the Hokage, the whole village. The world's best strategist and everyone still dies."

No. No, this wasn't right. It wasn't his fault. She had to show him…

Ino extended a hand, but couldn't close the distance. What if this was a trap, like so many other places had been? The moment she put a hand to his shoulder, he might melt away into quicksand, pulling her down with him. The images on the screen might suddenly become real. She couldn't risk being pulled into that kind of despair. She didn't know if she was strong enough to pull herself out.

You've made it this far. What's one more trial?

And despite her fear and every screaming instinct of self-preservation, it was that quiet voice—one distinctly familiar, smoke-roughened and acerbic—that tugged her forward. She had come this far. All this way, and finally, finally something felt right.

Shikamaru was here, right in front of her. After all she had suffered for his sake, she wasn't leaving empty-handed.

She put a hand on his shoulder.

He didn't startle as she expected—in fact, at first, he didn't seem to notice at all, just went on watching the screen through his fingers, tears gushing over the back of his hands.

Anchor, she thought, the idea strangely familiar. I need to be his anchor.

"Shikamaru?"

He didn't respond. She tried giving his shoulder a little shake.

"Shikamaru, it's me, Ino. I'm here. Snap out of it."

Still nothing. Only glazed eyes and muttered deprecations.

Ino's patience was waning.

"Shikamaru!" She shook his shoulder more briskly, her voice rising in pitch. "Shikamaru Nara, I did not come all of this way for you to just ignore me, so if you don't snap out of it, I swear…"

Slowly, his head tilted.

"Ino?"

The usual listlessness had begun to creep back into his words. But he looked at her for only a moment before his head swiveled back to the screens.

"You should go. Before I get you killed."

Cold fear seized her stomach for an instant before she shook it off. He wasn't going to kill her. His mind hadn't managed it so far—and she wasn't about to let it now. He was talking about the screens. She had to get him focused on what was happening now.

"No. I'm not going. You are going, because I did not come all this way just to let you waste away on daydreams. Come on."

Ignoring the twinging in her wrist, she shoved his shoulder as hard as she could, sending him sprawling out of the chair.

It wasn't immediately clear whether her plan had worked; the sudden, searing pain in her injured arm proved a strong distraction. Fighting down the pain, she willed away the little white bursts that were popping across her vision and turned back to him.

The screens had switched off, plunging the room into almost total darkness. For a panicked moment, Ino was afraid she had done something wrong.

Then she heard a groan.

"Were you trying to kill me, woman?"

Ino nearly choked on a sob.

"If that was what it took to get you back."

She tried for a reprimanding tone, but any anger she could muster was overwhelmed by the sheer relief of hearing his voice. His real voice—not one choked by tears and overwhelmed by failures. That stupid, overconfident, sarcastic, perfect voice.

There was shuffling, and then a grunt as he righted himself. Ino fought the instinct to run to him—she'd be more likely to trip over him in the dark. She scanned in the room, hoping to remember where she had been in relation to the door, to look for any cracks where the light might be shining through.

"Do you know how to get out of here?" Shikamaru echoed her thoughts.

"It's your brain, dummy. Shouldn't you know?"

"I've been a little…" He grunted again, this time as if he were in pain. "…occupied. I'm not sure exactly how I got here."

Which likely meant he was also missing crucial details about the mission that had put him in this state in the first place. Great.

But a mission debriefing meant nothing if they couldn't resolve the immediate concern of getting out of here. Ino fumbled forward until she hit the wall that she thought might house the exit. She clutched along its length at waist height, but the door handle did not appear. It had to be here somewhere…

When she backed into a warm body, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Oi," Shikamaru groused. "Isn't it bad enough that you punched me? Now you have to run into me too?"

Still pressed flush against what she assumed was his chest, Ino turned. In the darkness, it was hard to tell where anything was, but they had perfected their synchronicity years ago. When she reached for his shoulder, she found it.

A hand steadied her elbow. He was so close she could feel the warmth of breath on her face. It struck her as odd, knowing that she wasn't really here—wasn't in her physical body—and yet every sensation felt so viscerally true.

He felt so real. So alive. She hadn't been sure she would ever see him this way again. For the second time, she was overwhelmed by the desire to cry.

His voice was soft, not accusing, when he asked: "How are you here?"

"I—"

Something wet hit her head and dripped down her face, oozing and viscous. Definitely not tears.

"What—"

Shikamaru's shoulder tensed under her hand.

"Shit."

"Wha—?"

"They're trying to flood the room. I remember. Ino, we've got to get out of here."

What had begun as a few droplets was now flowing onto her shoulders, and Ino could feel the floor growing damp under her feet.

"What do you mean?"

The flood was rising, the liquid now at least to her ankles, and when she tried to move her foot, the substance resisted.

"I don't have time to explain," Shikamaru said. "We've got to find that exit now."

They broke apart, Ino moving one way and Shikamaru the other. Progress was slow; Ino found the wall again, but she had to slog with each step, and the flooding grew faster, swallowing her calves and splattering across her knees. By the time she reached the corner, it was halfway up her thigh.

"Any luck?"

"I think…" Shikamaru swore under his breath. "I almost had it, I just… there!"

"Can you get it open?" Ino tried to wade back toward where she thought he was, but in the sludge, it was growing harder to tell which direction was right.

"It's stuck." He grumbled. "But it's almost…"

The rest was lost to Ino as she was hit by a wave of the liquid, nearly toppling her over.

"Shikamaru?" She hated the panicked squeak in her voice as she said his name. "I'm gonna need you to keep talking, or I don't think I'm getting out of here."

He grunted, still struggling with the door.

"What am I supposed to talk about, troublesome woman? I'm trying to get the goddamn door—"

"Oh, I dunno, you could start with 'Ino, thanks so much for coming to save me, you're a real gem!' Or maybe 'here's how I got into this ridiculous mess of a situation to begin with!'"

"You know, it's kind of hard to keep talking when you won't shut up."

"Fine." Ino swallowed hard. She was coated to her waist, and it seemed to be rising faster than ever. She would not allow herself to panic. "Then talk."

"Okay." He sounded surprised, as though he hadn't actually expected her to stop talking long enough to get a word in edgewise. She supposed, based on experience, that it wasn't exactly the most egregious assumption. "Why on earth did you come here, Ino? Do you have some kind of death wish? I mean, hell, this place is a minefield, and I'm saying that as the person who—"

Ino reached out and clamped onto something solid that she hoped was his forearm.

"—designed it." His voice growled next to her ear, suddenly low.

She reached out to find his other hand, which was fixed around the doorknob. It would barely budge, but maybe if they both tried…

"I had a mission assignment. It was my job."

His breath tickled across her shoulder. "Oh. I see."

He almost sounded… disappointed?

"What?"

"Tch." He snorted. "Nothing."

"What?" Her voice came out in an exasperated gasp. "What did you want me to say? That I volunteered to do this right after finishing another grueling assignment? That I risked life and limb because you're my teammate? Because you're my friend? Because you're my partner and I lo—"

With a resounding crack, the door gave way.

Shizune sent Mrs. Yamanaka home, and Choji too.

It was the only reasonable decision—they probably hadn't gotten a full night's sleep between the two of them. And there was nothing to be done here, except watch and worry and hope for the best.

Ino had stabilized again, although she looked worse with every collapse. Shizune now had an extra medic on duty, and everyone had instructions to observe for any signs of imminent danger. She was determined not to be caught off guard again.

She was washing her hands when Tsunade entered the prep room. The Hokage took two steps, letting the door close behind her.

"How is she?"

"Stable. She has new contusions on her wrist and scalp."

As a younger medic, Shizune would have kept the terseness out of her tone, but she was older now, less eager to please, and in no mood to deny her irritation.

"But none in new regions?"

"None that we've seen."

Shizune shut off the faucet and reached for a clean towel to dry her hands. Tsunade set one hand on top of the stack. Shizune hadn't even seen her cross the room.

"Shizune."

Shizune did not look at her.

"Can I dry my hands, please?"

"I know you're angry with me."

"Well, you're blocking the towels."

Tsunade lifted her hand.

"Not about that."

Shizune let out a long breath through her nose.

"Yes, I'm angry with you. I think this is reckless."

"Is that so?"

Shizune wasn't sure that was an invitation for further explanation, but she took it anyway.

"I think you're risking a life that didn't need to be put in danger. And I think in the process, you're hurting a woman who has already lost her husband. And a young man who was already facing the loss of one teammate, and now is going to lose two."

Tsunade was silent for a moment.

"You're so convinced that they're lost?"

Shizune closed her eyes.

"We've already almost lost her three times. How many more until we don't get there fast enough?"

"And you think I'm not concerned about the possibility?"

Shizune met her mentor's gaze for the first time since their argument. The subtlest lines stood out around her eyes and across her forehead.

"I never said that. I just…" Shizune shook her head. "How do you choose?"

"Choose what?"

"To be a medic or a leader. To heal, or to put someone in harm's way, on the slim chance that it might save someone else. How do you make that decision so easily?"

"Years of experience." Tsunade's expression was pained. "But it is never easy."

Guilt twisted Shizune's guts. She was so tired—her nerves so frayed. Still… she knew that Tsunade did not just throw lives away. Should have known from the start. She didn't know if her mentor was right, in the end, but…

"I'm sorry."

Tsunade held up a hand.

"No apologies. You may yet prove me wrong."

"I don't want to."

"And I don't want you to either." The ghost of a smile crossed Tsunade's lips.

Shizune wiped the last of the water from her hands, threw the towel into a basket.

"Tsunade-sama?"

"Yes, Shizune?"

"Do you really believe she can do it?"

Tsunade looked over her shoulder, at the two still figures in the room beyond.

"Yes. I really believe she can."

Shikamaru and Ino tumbled out the door, tripping over one another to land in one sprawling, tangled heap on the path. The viscous liquid poured out around them, soaking the path.

"Can—you—get—off!" Ino shoved at Shikamaru's shoulder with her one good hand, which did almost nothing. She was still pinned to the ground.

"I'm trying!"

With one great heave, he flipped over, collapsing on the ground next to her. They were both coated from toe to crown in the liquid, which, in the daylight of the false-Konoha, shone the eerie blue of deep water.

"What is this?"

Shikamaru sat up, a look of disgust on his face. "Hell if I know."

"I thought you designed this place." Ino pulled herself up out of the goop, wishing her skin would stop crawling. Not being physically here was beginning to look like more and more of a blessing—she was fairly certain she would have had to cut this stuff out of her hair.

"I did, but it's been… compromised."

"By what?"

"Explanations later." Shikamaru pulled himself to his feet. "We need to get out of here."

He glanced around him, as if seeing the place for the first time. Then he frowned.

"Does something look… off to you?"

Ino studied the landscape as he pulled her to her feet. Off in the distance, images were beginning to blur. Like someone had thrown a bucket of water at a painting, the colors smudged together, the clear peaks of the mountains growing indistinct.

"This place… it's… dissolving."

Shikamaru cursed.

"That's what I thought."

And that wasn't the only problem. A slow stream of water was rising beneath their feet—not as quickly as the liquid in the room had, but quickly enough to be alarming.

"I'm not…" He scowled and tried again. "I don't think I, uh…"

"You don't think what?"

"I don't think I'm quite recovered." It seemed to pain him to admit it. "And I'm not sure if I remember the way out of here. It's changed quite a bit since…" He gestured at the mess around them.

Ino took a deep breath.

You've made it this far.

"I can lead us out."

Shikamaru lifted his head.

"Are you sure?"

"I got all the way here, didn't I?" Ino grabbed his hand with a confidence she didn't quite feel. Then again, she had always been good at faking confidence. "C'mon."

The dirt of the path was turning to mud, but she could see the line of the trees at the end of the road. They could get out of here. They had to.

They were halfway to the edge of the treeline when he mumbled something at her back:

"Thank you."

Ino was exhausted and injured and soaked to the skin, but warmth kindled inside her.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He said something else under his breath, but the only part she caught was 'troublesome'. Then, after a moment of silence:

"Speaking of which… what exactly were you saying when we managed to get the door open?"

Ino was glad to be leading their small party, if only to hide the flush that burned across her cheeks.

"Nothing. Explanations later." She tossed a glance over her shoulder. "Isn't that right?"

He raised an eyebrow at her; she could have sworn she caught the barest hint of a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

"Right."

Hand in hand, they trudged back into the forest.

A/N: Heyyyy, guess who's still alive? (Spoiler alert: it's me. And Shikamaru and Ino. Woo!) As usual, apologies for sporadic updates, but I promise I do still plan to finish this. I've run into a lot of writer's block lately, and all those pesky real-life responsibilities keep distracting me. But those are excuses, and the important point is this: I will finish this story.

And, as always, you guys-readers and reviewers-are amazing. I am profoundly overwhelmed by the lovely responses that I still get to this story on a monthly basis. At a time when I've lost a lot of faith in my writing, your wonderful and kind reviews keep me going. So much love to you guys, especially those that have stuck with me from the very beginning.