Hey all, yeah I know, right, just what I needed to do, post up another story. But oh well, better to have it up here then on my computer when it could crash and I could lose it at any moment. At least here I'll have it to keep as a back up as long as the system doesn't lose it or something. But anyway, I wrote this out like the middle of last year. It's the beginning of the promised abuse fic that I had spun in my mind. I've got the idea all planned out, since, as you can see, we're starting at the end, and gonna work our way through what led up to this. But anyway, I really just wanted to post this up to see what everyone thought about it. So please, I hope you enjoy.

Rating: M for future scenes or mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, incest and the like.

Pairings: Eventual Itachi/Sasuke; forced Fugaku/Sasuke

WARNINGS (READ BEFORE YOU CONTINUE): This story will contain child abuse, sexual abuse, incest and probably a lot more things that might trigger some people, so read at your own risk and don't complain to me about the content.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters.

Retribution

Prologue

October 27th

Hesitation.

For the briefest of moments he had seen it clearly within those dark obsidian eyes, the eyes that reminded him of Death itself. He made to speak, to comment on how the man before him was afraid to do this—too afraid… The hesitation vanished just as soon as he opened his mouth, though, and then there was nothing more than the darkness which suddenly loomed around him. He could feel nothing more than the relentless tendrils pulling him—dragging him further into the depths of the monster that had come to surround him which whispered to him promises of perpetual sleep.

He could not resist temptation and found himself falling, falling, falling, but never moving. Everything spun before his eyes yet he could see nothing. He moved his hand, raising it to his face. The darkness remained, his hand never straying from his side.

And then…there was silence.

Drip… Drip…

Silence which was permeated only by the steady dripping emanating from the hardwood floor beneath the attacker's feet as each droplet of blood fell from the dagger he held loosely at his side. It was the same dagger which had, moments prior, been plunged deep within his father's chest, causing the man to tumble, face horror-stricken in pain, down the staircase which he stood atop of. The same staircase that his father now lay at the foot of, his body spasming as the last remnants of life drained from him as he lay drowned in his own tainted blood, which had spilt from his body relentlessly. And it was that body—that same repulsive body which he had been forced to watch, on countless occasions, violate and degrade the only thing that he had left… The only person he ever had.

The same person that he had failed to protect…

He understood, though, that this moment – this glorious moment of relief – had depended on his failure—would not have flourished had those disgraceful acts never taken place. Yet he could not help but feel so painfully guilty; he could not help but feel emotions which no one would ever understand.

Because all they would believe—all they would understand was that he had just murdered his father…

No, not even that…

All they would believe was that he had murdered a fine, gentle, upstanding citizen, who would have never even dreamed of committing the senselessly vile acts he had witnessed firsthand. All they would believe was that he had lost his sanity following the murder of his mother and so took his revenge upon the only suspect there had ever been, who had – he was sure they would point out – been cleared of all suspicion.

All that anyone would ever believe, once he walked down those stairs, over his father's broken and bloodied corpse to turn himself in, was that he had murdered his father in cold blood.

And he would let them.

He would let every last one of them lay buried beneath their ignorant delusions; would watch them silently while he was put to trail, never saying a word in his own defense as extraordinary tales were told. He would die for the crime he'd committed with the fantastic feeling of relief in his chest and a smile upon his face, knowing all the while that the only person who knew the truth was finally safe.

He would die happily with the knowledge that he had finally saved his brother.

"I…Itachi…"

"Sasuke…" the dagger in his hand clattered to the ground and splattered blood across the floor as he turned around to face the young teenager. A small smile played upon his lips for a moment when he saw the look of pure disbelief on Sasuke's face. It stretched across the younger's features as he took in the sight of his bloodied brother before him.

"You…" Sasuke walked over cautiously, coming to stand next to Itachi. He glanced at the elder, silently asking if it could be true; Itachi smiled and tilted his head toward the stairs, urging Sasuke to look. When he finally turned his gaze toward the staircase his shoulders slumped in relief and he smiled – truly smiled – something Itachi had been waiting far too long to witness again.

"…You did it…"

Of course he had done it. This was one promise that he had been determined to see through. He nodded nonetheless and reached out for his brother, placing his hand on the teens back comfortingly.

"It's over," the words held such finality and for a moment, but only for a moment, they didn't seem real. It was over. Their father was dead; Sasuke was safe, at last. Itachi had finally redeemed himself, and now there was nothing left for him to do.

"It's over…" he repeated, more to himself.

Sasuke turned and looked at him oddly, having caught the tone of his brother's voice. "Itachi…" The man looked at his brother and smiled, "You know that I have to."

Sasuke shook his head, moving closer to Itachi as he grabbed the man's shirt collar, opening his mouth to talk some sense into him…but the words never came out. This, his brother's unwavering belief, was what had brought about many an argument in the middle of the night when they lay in bed.

"…You can't be serious about this…"

"I murdered our father."

Sasuke's body began to tremble, but he held onto Itachi firmly as he pointed toward the staircase in anger, the memories of his agonizing torture bombarding him. "That man…hurt me, Itachi…" Sasuke reminded, his head falling as he bit back tears he had cried far too many times before; his grip loosened on his brother's shirt and his hand slid down the man's chest slowly. "He deserved this! …Anyone would—"

"No one will agree, Sasuke," Itachi interrupted like so many times before and grabbed his brother's wrist gently, pulling the teen into his embrace. "No one will believe either of us, because all they will see is that I've committed a horrible crime for which I need to be punished…" he explained quietly, feeling Sasuke relax against him as he stroked his hair.

"And I can't disagree with that."

Narrowing his eyes, Sasuke moved to look up at his brother questioningly, demanding an explanation. Itachi frowned slightly, "I sat, afraid to act because of his threats while you were helpless. I allowed him to hurt you. That was the most horrendous of crimes I could ever commit; I need to be punished for failing you when you were suffering most."

"…I-Itachi…"

Sasuke couldn't speak further as he stared up at his brother, who gazed back at him silently. They continued on like that for a long moment before Itachi moved, bringing his hand up to caress his brother's cheek. Sasuke shifted closer at the imploring touch, feeling the blood of their father bleed through his clothing as he clung desperately to Itachi; their lips meshed slowly, in finality, barely touching at first and then—

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

"Uchiha Itachi, if you're in there, open up."

Parting from his brother at the abrupt interruption, Sasuke looked toward the staircase and shook his head, a dejected laugh breaking on his lips. "You didn't…"

"Sasuke—"

"Please, Itachi…" Sasuke bit his lip and looked up at the man as a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. "Please…tell me you didn't."

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

"Uchiha Itachi? Open the door."

The most Itachi could offer Sasuke was a sad smile as he caressed his cheek, "I knew you'd never agree…"

Dumbfounded, though not terribly surprised by his brother's actions, Sasuke stood and stared at Itachi, his mouth falling open, "…You…"

"I love you," Itachi whispered, pulling Sasuke close to him as the door burst open. Police invaded their home seconds later, some stopping at the sight of Fugaku's corpse at the base of the stairs while others continued onward, toward their target. Three officers came across the brothers at the top of the stairs, locked in embrace and separated them immediately; two of them wrenched Itachi away by his shoulders and then forced him down the stairs. One stayed behind, watching the scene and treating Sasuke as if he had just barely escaped the hands of a criminal.

"…What's going to happen to him?" he finally forced the question out, minutes after Itachi had been taken from him. The officer beside him, his cousin Matsuri, smiled softly and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Sasuke, he'll be dealt with properly…"

"Will they…?"

Matsuri tilted his head before asking, "Will they what?"

Sasuke took a breath and blinked slowly before looking up into his cousin's concerned onyx eyes. "Will they…kill him?" he asked.

Matsuri scoffed, "If there's any justice, they will."

Sasuke frowned at the response and Matsuri wrapped an arm around his young cousin, bringing him closer and looking at him more seriously. "Sasuke, I know he's your brother and you love him, but he killed Fugaku…called it in and everything, and… we're all pretty sure that he would've killed you too, had we not gotten here in time."

Matsuri held Sasuke close for another moment before letting him go, offering a comforting pat to his shoulder before excusing himself to go down and talk with his supervisor.

"…But you don't understand…" Sasuke whispered once his cousin was out of earshot. He stared down at the men and women who were assessing the crime scene below him carefully. Itachi had been right, that was all he knew now.

He had been right, they didn't understand. They never would.

XxXxXxXxX

"Will you agree to give a full confession?" Morino Ibiki finally asked, breaking their long, silent staring contest that had begun the moment Itachi had been bound to the uncomfortable chair in which he sat.

"I murdered my father," Itachi replied bluntly. "There's nothing more to confess."

Ibiki nodded, regarding Itachi curiously for a moment, "What about, why did you kill him?—what led you to it?"

"That…is a rather long story," he said quietly, "One which no one will believe once it's told, so what would the point be in telling it?"

Ibiki scoffed and stood up, a mild look of interest crossing his features. "We've already got a fairly good idea of why you did it anyway, so why don't you just confirm it for us; it was because of Mikoto's death, wasn't it?"

Itachi glanced down at the table he was seated before and shook his head, "Not entirely."

Ibiki raised an eyebrow, "But it was a factor?"

Itachi eyed the interrogator wearily, "If you insist…I suppose I will tell you."

Motioning to another man in the room, Ibiki came to sit back down across from Itachi just as a tape recorder was placed in the middle of the table. "Alright, whenever you're ready."

"Perhaps it would be best if I began with the events of July…"

A/N: So yeah, that's that. So let me know what you think, cause I'm interested to see if you all would like to see this go any further. And I'll be updating on my other stories soon. So thank you all for reading. :)

SandXDemonX13

TTYFTDS