(A/N: I don't quite know what I was feeling when I wrote this, I wrote it in like 20 minutes. I guess I'm feeling some regret today, but ah well. Shit happens ne?)


Regret. An emotion we all feel at one time or another in our lives. Be it something we've done, or something we failed to do. And that's exactly what Deidara felt as he gazed down at the pale body lying face down on the dirty floor of the demolished cave.

He wasn't sure how it had happened. How Akasuna no Sasori had fallen to the hands of his grandmother and some pipsqueak medic nin from Konoha. But it had happened and there was no way to reverse the events of that day. Zetsu and Tobi stood several feet away, giving the blond the physical and mental space he needed at the moment. Deidara could say that the tears in his eyes were from the pain of loosing both his arms, could tell them that it was just the disbelief that his partner was dead, just the anger at potentially being partnered with Tobi now, but he knew it was all lies.

He stood here, in the aftermath, battling tears of pain, anger, sorrow and regret. He hurt, physically and mentally, he'd lost his friend, his master, his partner and his arms. And the pain of losing limbs didn't even rival the mental anguish, the feeling of his heart being torn from his chest. His head hurt. He was angry at Sasori for leaving him here alone, to face life by himself, again, stray. Angry at that girl and that old bitch for ripping the ex-Suna nin away from him, severing bonds that could never be replaced, inflicting wounds that time couldn't heal. He despaired, he felt like dropping to his knees and screaming himself hoarse. But a shinobi must never show emotions. A shinobi is a tool. A mindless, emotionless puppet. And only when the strings are cut can he be free. Sasori had perfected that. Never being able to control his own life, he turned to his puppets, something he could control. The solitude of his younger life eating away at him until there was just an empty shell. Deidara knew this because he'd seen it in the red head's supposedly emotionless eyes. He'd seen that spark of emotion, that spark of life, that had meant Sasori was feeling something again. Deidara was sure it was what he himself had felt, still felt, but maybe he was just being delusional.

Deidara regretted a lot of thing in his short life. He regretted not punching that guy who had dared call him effeminate. He regretted not telling his friends, his team mates, that he did really need them and barely made Chuunin by himself. He regretted not thanking those who cared about him for not calling him a freak like the majority. He regretted not telling his parents he was sorry before leaving Iwa. He regretted being stupid enough to fall prey to the Sharingan. He regretted killing so many, when really, they didn't need to, didn't deserve to die. He'd never though about that until now. Until he was stood staring at the body of his comrade, he felt the pain that no doubt the friends and families of his victims had felt, never having a chance to say a true goodbye, only wishing farewell to a cold stone and a handful of ashes. And he was sorry. But that couldn't reverse the events of his past years.

And despite all that regret and pain and guilt, there was one thing Deidara regretted most, of all the things he'd done, or had yet to do in his life: he regretted not telling Sasori how he truly felt.

He knelt next to the artificial body, pressed a soft kiss to the tufts of bright red hair and whispered,

"Good bye Sasori no Danna...I love you."