Grey Heaven

Gave up completely on Beautiful Disaster. Here's another ItaSaku for you/me to cringe over.

This, along with the next few chapters, is a test drive. I just want to see what everyone else thinks. Enjoy! (I hope...)

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. This applies for the rest of the story.

Ch 1:

x-X-x-X-x-X-x

X-x-X

-X-

"If you wake up at a different time, in a different place...could you wake up as a different person?"

- Chuck Palahniuk

-X-

X-x-X

x-X-x-X-x-X-x

Poke.

Time stops.

(breathe)

Shock in the younger Uchiha's eyes. Shock...and relief.

So desperate to live. The charcoal eyes give it away.

Eyes that mirror his own.

(so much harder...)

Pain triumphs, and his finger slips, smearing blood upon pale skin as he falls forward. The wall rises up to greet him, but he just keeps on falling, falling...

(to breathe)

And he feels nothing. Because he no longer needs to.

Because he can't.

He knows he's already half-way to death, just tipping on the brink of existence. He acknowledges his defeat wearily and allows his mangled body to drop, already just a pathetic shell of his former self.

(how familiar that phrase sounded how the irony burns)

He hits the ground, landing in a pool of blood; a mixture of his own and the younger Uchiha's. The crimson liquid seeps through his plain black shirt, and he feels it's delicious wetness against his skin, drowning him in it's mixture with sweat and dirt. It is not a new sensation.

He blinks once, slowly, and only watches with an eerie sense of calmness as the azure heavens fade to grey; as the last flickers of Amatseru's black fire die; as silence falls and all collapses around him, tunnelling in with no telltale light at the end.

Just darkness.

(breathe...)

Blood pours over his red and black fitted torso as his pulse slows to a faint drumming...to a dying crawl...

(one last time)

...until it was no more.

(foolish little brother)

And still he feels nothing.

-X-

(breathe...)

There is a light.

The soft kind that didn't hurt your eyes, yet bright enough to illuminate all.

All of nothingness.

He tries to blink, and wonders how that is possible when his eyes are still closed. Wondering how it was possible to see such a bright light, to feel a pleasant warmth spreading over his entire body, chasing out death's cold grasp.

This is heaven, he thinks, a half-formed wry smirk tugging at his stiff lips, unaccustomed to expression. Heaven's gates taunting me before I am dragged back down where I belong.

But the light does not fade into darkness, the warmth does not leave. If anything, it's getting brighter, closer. He would have widened his eyes if they were open, but they seemed to have been sewn shut.

Slowly, his arm goes up by instinct, fingers groping for the illumine, and somehow, he can see, see that they are no longer covered in scarlet sin. He can see behind his closed eyes, and that, he decides, is a sure sign that he is truly dead. Also, Kami must have made the mistake of sending him to heaven. The big mistake. Not that he was complaining.

His legs move on their own accord, drawn to the light for the first time in his life...and death.

(but anything is better than nothingness anything as long as he lives because he will not surrender to his brother so easily he is not a pathetic shell he is not dead)

A shape is looming out from behind the pureness; a dark, hulking shape, much too large for a person. He does not recognize it, and the alert corner of his mind screams a warning, but it's too late to stop; too late to turn back.

And Itachi Uchiha is swallowed by the light.

(breathe once more)

It was dark.

Sakura Haruno shivered in the breeze, and pulled together the front of her thin coat. It really wasn't that cold, just an early summer wind. But something intangible made the pink haired kunoichi want to crawl into her warm bed and not wake up until...until it passed.

What 'it' was, she doubted she would ever find out.

You’re just being silly, the medic-nin scolded herself. What are you brooding about? You should be elated!

And indeed, there was no reason she should not be. She had just extracted herself (with some degree of difficulty) from a party thrown just for Sasuke and his defeat of Itachi Uchiha. There was booze, singing, tearful reunions followed by bone-crushing hugs, and what felt like all the happiness in the world crammed into one small apartment (smelling suspiciously a lot like ramen).

Emerald eyes closed. Now there was no reason for her Sasuke-kun to leave again. He was to stay for good. Things were back to normal at last.

Except he was different.

If there was one thing Sakura had learned from this so far, it was that revenge is a disease. She'd treated more than her share of malefic illnesses than she would have liked, but still, at least she had managed to cure them all.

But she could not cure Sasuke.

His eyes were colder, possibly more aloof than ever, even when he voluntarily pulled Sakura into a hug after their first encounter in several years. The old Sakura would have been overjoyed, probably returning the embrace with double the effort, as if determined to further maim the Uchiha's broken ribs.

(ignoring the coldness the fucking coldness like hugging a corpse the corpse he had become)

But the real Sakura Haruno simply responded with a weak squeeze, then excused herself and ran into the washroom.

Naruto grinned knowingly; probably he and Sasuke thought she was trying to be an adult and hide her tears of joy. How mistaken they were. Those salty drops were the furthest things from joy. Sakura was mourning. Mourning for the loss of the innocent little boy who died the moment he stepped out of Konohagakure.

Sakura shook her head free of those thoughts as she stopped in front of her humble little one-floor bungalow. She frowned.

That’s funny. I thought I turned the lights off before I left.

Shrugging it off, the pink-haired kunoichi stuck her house (haha, what house?) key into the slightly rusty lock, and turned. Lately, she had found herself getting more and more forgetful. Between all the excitement of Sasuke’s return and all the pain of healing his wounds, she was sure she would fry her short-term memory entirely by the end of the month.

The door creaked open ominously. Damn, gotta remember to oil that hinge.

Sakura flipped on the hallway light, which flickered weakly for a moment or two before stabilizing. Offhandedly, she noted the kitchen light was on, although she distinctly remembered turning it off before setting off to the party. Tossing her coat onto the second-hand loveseat, Tsunade’s apprentice wandered into her cramped little kitchen. It did not pass her notice that she was subconsciously channeling some chakra into a tightly balled-up fist.

'Getting too paranoid,' she thought, frowning slightly, relaxking and flexing her fingers. 'And I’m not even as old as Tsunade-baa-chan yet.'

Sighing, she threw open the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk. "Cheers," she mumbled to no one in particular, raising the glass before downing it in one gulp.

(but she knows oh she knows very well there’s nothing to be cheerful about when you’re hugging a corpse)

Then, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears, Sakura quickly set the glass into the sink, as if any longer contact with it will bring upon a severe mental breakdown and a river of liquid grief.

'I need a shower. A lengthy, hot, relaxing shower to make me forget,' thought the kunoichi, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering, despite the warm kitchen air. 'Heck, make that a bath. Haven’t had the time for one of those in a long time.'

As she padded upstairs, determinedly rubbing the wetness from her eyes, the pink-haired kunoichi failed to notice that one of her two kitchen chairs was mysteriously drawn out, and that its seat was still warm.

-X-

"Hmm…bubble bath soap. Where did I put it…?" Reluctantly leaving the warm room, Sakura fumbled around listlessly in her room, finally locating the transparent plastic bottle in the bottom of her sock drawer. And that was when the first sounds of water hitting a ceramic-tiled floor sent her running for the overflowing tub.

"Sh--!" Sakura clenched her teeth in annoyance as she twisted off the water faucet and pulled the drain. The water made gurgling noises as it retreated, and the kunoichi was left with a strange sense of emptiness, which had nothing to do with the fact that her nice, warm bath had literally gone down the drain.

A muffled thud from the adjoining bedroom jolted her rudely from her reverie. Green eyes flashed immediately to the bathroom door, half expecting to see a shadowy figure pass across it.

Inching forward like…well, a ninja, Sakura pushed the door slightly, then threw all caution to the wind and kicked back the wooden board completely while adrenaline and chakra coursed through her body.

The bedroom was empty.

Sighing from irritation (although she would be lying if she denied feeling relieved as well), Sakura made to retreat back into the washroom. Along the way, however, she saw that the bottle of soap had been knocked over, lying sadly on the dresser where she had last left it standing. Grimly, the pink-haired kunoichi went over to investigate. Whatever. It just fell over, okay? No big deal.

But it was a big deal. Especially since there was no plausible cause for the tipping over of a heavy bottle. Her window was shut firmly, and unless there was an earthquake fast approaching (she highly doubted that), there was no way the bottle would have tipped…unless someone had touched it.

The thought of a stranger running around loose in her house made Sakura shiver. Still keeping her right fist chakra-pumped, she righted the bottle with a slightly shaky hand and swept the room with an expert kunoichi eye.

And so, it was not hard to pick out the strange lump on her bed, a lump that was not there only five minutes ago.

Sakura picked it up gingerly, as if handling an unstable bomb. The silver moonlight spilled over it, distorting its colours and the dried blood on it, but Sakura choked on her breath nevertheless.

It was black. With red clouds.

Akatsuki.

"Put that down."

The medic-nin’s breath rushed out in one great gasp that would have been comic if not for the dangerous situation she was in. Her feet seemed to have grown roots right into the ground, and she could not even turn around. A sense of unpleasant vulnerability hit her, and she forced herself to talk, if only to buy time.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a strong voice that triggered a small rush of pride. At least she sounded strong. Good. When the man made no reply, Sakura shook the infamous cloak, as if attempting to strangle it. "Which one of those…those bastards are you?" she spat, venom lacing, drenching, every word.

The bodiless voice did not respond.

Whirling around, all fear suddenly replaced by seething anger; anger at how he broke into her house; anger at how they had caused Konoha so much suffering; anger at how they hunt Naruto-kun relentlessly;

(anger about Sasuke for taking him away anger for replacing him with a corpse a fucking corpse)

anger at them all, Sakura screamed, "Who are you?"

A pause.

Then, something in the darkest corner of her room shifted, and he stepped out. He, the sworn enemy of her dark-haired teammate. He, the cause of Sasuke’s misery, of her misery too. He, who was supposed to be dead at last.

He was standing in her room, alive, crimson eyes glowing, his raven tresses silver-washed by the moon

And Itachi Uchiha finally answered:

"I do not know."

Well, what do you think??

If there is any other ItaSaku story with a storyline that goes something like this, please inform me; I want an original plotline.

Constructive criticism is welcome!

-'sH