#crime!au

His unwavering support steeled her nerves. Without another word, Sakura slipped out of the car. She pulled the collar of her jacket tighter around her neck as a breeze kicked up. She passed one last, purposeful gaze over the street. Other than a few pedestrians the block was empty. There weren’t even any lingering eyes in the windows.

Still, Sakura withdrew her gun as she stopped before the obviously closed tavern. She expected the front door to be locked, but the handle turned without resistance. It was utterly still inside. The door closed with an ominous, echoing thud as she shut it behind her.

The main bar was eerily silent upon her entrance, only her footsteps echoed against the polished wood as she stepped further inside. The teak chandelier was lit above her head, making the liquor bottles behind the bar flicker. In the lowlight, they looked like faces laughing at her.

Sakura turned away. She didn’t believe in ghosts.

The rest of the pub was empty. Totally and completely deserted. She didn’t understand why her mysterious stranger would send her here. It seemed like no one had been there since closing the night before.

Huffing a breath through her nose, Sakura turned back towards the door, intent on leaving when music reached her ears. It was faint, the gentle tinkle of a piano from somewhere else further inside the tavern.

Tightening the grip on her weapon, Sakura followed the sound. Towards the back of the room was another doorway. It led to a second bar that was a little smaller than the first. Off to one side, a wall of high-end liquors were lined on a the shelf behind a bar of polished mahogany. A number of square tables each with four chairs around them were set up about the main floor, all strategically placed to have a view towards an empty section of the room where a small band could set up.

In that space now was a single piano. And behind it sat Itachi.

If every cell in Sakura’s being hadn’t frozen on the spot, her gun would have slipped through her fingers and clattered to the floor. The world quit turning, the fire flickering in the fireplace stopped swaying and the tinkle of the piano faded into silence.

Itachi was here before her. He was skinnier than the last time she had seen him, the harsh contrast of shadows making his face appear more gaunt and his hair was a little shorter than before, but it was him.

Apparently, there was such thing as ghosts.

“The world becomes a dangerous place when you’re angry with it,” Itachi finally said.

As if someone had pressed play in the crescendo of a symphony, all of Sakura’s senses rushed back to her at once. Her hands trembled and she could feel the frantic beat of her heart in her chest like a bird trying to escape its cage. Noise, so much noise, filled her ears. The roar of the blood in her veins, the crackle of the fire, the tinkling of the piano. She just wanted it all to stop.

Sakura’s grip on her gun tightened until her knuckles turned white. If this wasn’t a hallucination, she didn’t want to shoot him on reflex and kill him. Again.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

Immediately Itachi’s hands stilled over the keys as he looked up at her. “Are you disappointed?”

She didn’t know if it was the lighting or if it was because it had been so long since the last time she had seen him, but in that moment, he was the most handsome he had ever been. His skin was pale against the dark blue button-down shirt he wore under his jacket. His jaw and cheekbones were emphasized by the firelight, but it was his eyes that pierced through her soul and kept her rooted in place. They were like twin pools of liquid midnight.

He looked like death that had warmed over. An angel of darkness.

She had missed him so terribly. And now he was here before her. She didn’t know how, but it was true. All those sleepless nights and terrible moments of guilt and grief. Her hands shook. It took her a moment to realize it was out of anger.

“I saw your funeral,” she said accusingly. “You have a tombstone in Arlington.”

A strange expression passed over his face, as if he was grieving his own death. “The CIA thought this would be a perfect opportunity to send me deeper undercover.”

Astounded, Sakura could only stare as she relived that day. Her heart had shattered into a million different pieces and guilt had left her bedridden for nearly a week. And here he was, telling her all that she had witnessed was a lie?

“Does your family even know you’re alive?”

Again, a brief but painful look settled on his features. “Shisui and my mother do. Unfortunately to keep my brother safe, I have to keep him in the dark until my mission is complete.”

Taken aback, Sakura’s lips parted but no words escaped. It felt like someone had shoved her down onto the cold, hard concrete and kicked dirt into her face. She was full of grief and heartbreak and anger and betrayal, so full she thought all that emotion might crush her heart and explode out her chest.

When Itachi’s hands returned to the piano keys, she became even angrier. He was playing her song. And it wasn’t those shaky, four notes anymore. It was an entire verse, over and over again. That song no longer gave her an escape from reality. It reminded her of everything she’d had, could have had, and would have had if she hadn’t made her worse miscalculation of betraying Itachi. And here he was, playing her mistake right to her face.

“I don’t play anymore,” she snarled.

Itachi had just enough time to withdraw his fingers from the keys before she slammed the fallboard closed. He simply looked up at her like a parent watching their child throw a tantrum. All forced patience.

“That’s a shame. I did always enjoy watching you play.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How can you just lie to your brother like that?”

‘Lie to me.’ She didn’t say the words but they were heard just as clearly.

“I do not think you can lecture me on lying to those closest to me.”

“You should have contacted me before now!”

“I couldn’t!” Itachi suddenly snapped, all that patience gone. He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the wooden bench over in his haste. He still stood a head higher over her, but she didn’t flinch away from those impossibly dark eyes. “Not without the CIA finding out. And I needed time to heal. I did almost die, that much is true. I flatlined in surgery twice and was in a coma for nearly a week. I had to put my health first.”

Sakura wanted to argue, but she couldn’t find fault with his justification. It had taken months for her shoulder to mend; it still wasn’t completely healed. Itachi would’ve had a much longer recovery time.

Automatically her eyes drifted down to his stomach, where she was certain he would have a scar to match her own. The death grip on her gun loosened before she raised her other hand towards him. To touch him and feel him; to make sure he was really there.

She pulled her hand back before her fingers grazed his shirt.

“For the last nine months, I thought I had killed you,” she said, her voice suddenly soft in the wake of Itachi’s outburst of anger.

He inhaled and exhaled a silent breath before he replied, his tone equally as quiet. “You did.”

Not physically at least. But peering up at him, she could see the heartbreak lining his expression even now. There weren’t enough people in the world that could help shoulder the weight of all her guilt.

“Why did you come back? You could have stayed dead if you really hate me so much.”

“I told you already,” Itachi said not unkindly. “I have a mission to complete.”

Sakura’s shoulders stiffened at that. It suddenly occurred to her for the first time that this mission could very well be to dispose of her. He would be the perfect assassin for the job.

The sudden urge to turn tail and run nearly overwhelmed her, but her curiosity got the better of her. She had to know.

“Which is?”

Itachi’s expression was utterly unreadable. Like a Greek God, he might as well have been carved from stone. “What I’ve been doing all along: tracking Madara. Only this time, he won’t escape.”

Relief swept through her like a torrential downpour, only to dry up as quickly as it came as Itachi continued, “Because you’re going to help me.” From his tone, she clearly heard that he was telling and not asking. “I know you have been keeping tabs on him. I know you know where he is. You owe me at least that.”

He scrutinized her patiently but expectantly, like he wouldn’t leave until he got an answer from her. Still, Sakura hesitated. She wondered what he would do if she tried to walk out; what would happen if she told him the truth. Would things go back to the way they were, or would he disappear on her again as he hunted down his target?

“Madara’s in Hong Kong. He’s been there for the last four months.”

Itachi stilled, as if surprised she had told him without more persuasion on his part. Then he did the last thing she expected him to do. He cupped her face with both hands and bent his head until he sealed his mouth to hers.

It took Sakura by surprise, but she reacted an instant later, her eyes falling closed as she reached up with her empty hand to grip the open fold of his jacket to tug him closer. Itachi wasn’t gentle by any means. His kiss was bruising, putting all his emotions into that single action. His anger and heartbreak, but also his desperation and sorrow. It made her realize that he had missed her as much, if not more than she had missed him.

When Itachi finally pulled back, they were both panting slightly, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. He reached up to smooth her hair away from her face, his gaze tracking the action before his eyes dropped back to hers.

Then his expression hardened. “If you ever pull that shit on me again, we are going to have a problem.”

Even with his warning, Sakura couldn’t resist the corner of her mouth twitching in the start of a smirk. She trusted Itachi would follow through with his threat should she try to mislead him again, but she wasn’t concerned. Because if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she wouldn’t let Itachi go again.

She holstered her gun before smiling up at him innocently. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

A vaguely disbelieving expression crossed Itachi’s face before he released a defeated sigh – as if he was just realizing for the first time that he was in love with an asshole. Even so, he kissed her again, only pausing some minutes later for Sakura to send Kakashi a text telling him not to wait for her.

Because she was going to spend the rest of the night with the man in front of her. And tomorrow, they would work on taking down the bastard known as Uchiha Madara.

end.

xx

So, this is the happiest ending I could give. It's not really a happy ending cause all the shit they've been through, they're going to go through again. But for now, they're happy.

This wasn't the original ending I had for the story. Originally, I wanted to write a sequel that had Itachi coming back much later to hunt down Madara. Together, Sakura and Itachi catch and kill him, but while protecting Itachi, Sakura gets killed. And that's how it ends, but I don't have as much time to write as I used to, and I did lose motivation with this story.

That being said, I still love this story and I'm happy with how it came out. Thank you everyone for your continued support. To those of you who have been with me since chapter one and those of you who just came across this fic, thank you for your reviews. They are incredibly motivating and I cannot say enough how much I appreciate them.

Still to come:

Not the Only One - MadaSaku/TobiSaku (continuation)

“Great.” He’d see if Princey remembered at the end of the night. From his past track record, Virgil wasn’t hopeful. “Now–” He turned, following the stank odor of officer sweat up the stairs.

At least it wasn’t the basement. He hunched his shoulders, ears tilting forward to guide him towards the voices he could hear above. Basements always smelt so rank when he had to deal with both damp, mold and rotting flesh.

He wrinkled his nose. “What is so special about this victim, Princey, that you felt the need to pull me out of my nice quiet–”

“It’s not to play sniffer dog if that’s what you’re thinking.” Roman interrupted, joining him on the stairs. “It’s just that he won’t let us get close to him.”

Perfect. He hated playing sniffer dog–Wait. “The victim is alive?” He asked incredulously. That was a first.

Princey nodded, giving him a proud smirk, leading him through the door on the third floor and down the hallway to glass doors that labeled the place as a Health Clinic. “Right? It’s different from our usual cases. I thought you’d like the variety.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, tail twitching against his leg. “Thought I’d like–you do remember I don’t like people right?”

Roman huffed. “You do too if you choose to, Stormy Raincloud. I mean you talk to me.”

“Because I have to.”

“And from what I could see of our vic. I thought you’d be able to you know, bond. Get closer to him.”

Virgil crossed his arms, his hair on his back bristling as he narrowed his eyes. “Me? Get closer–you mean he won’t talk to you guys?” He asked, jerking his head to the window where he could see a handful of uniforms milling in the receptionist area, many of them coming and going through the swinging door next to the desk with evidence bags in hand.

Roman shook his head. “He’s quite agitated–” He said pulling open the door, gesturing for Virgil to go first.

“And you think I’m your best option to calm him down?”

“Yes.”

Virgil threw up his hands. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m just–”

A loud panicked yowl sounded from the back of the clinic. “GET AWAY!”

Virgil’s heart jumped in his throat as he turned to the noise. He knew that sound. Only he’d…he’d never heard anyone else but himself make it.

I thought you’d be able to bond.

No way. There was no way. Virgil broke into a run, nimbly dodging past the frozen officers and into the back, only vaguely hearing Princey order everyone to clear the floor and wait in the lobby below.

It was like deja vu all over again. It was a different building, but he knew the awful rusty red color scheme, knew the awful carpet, the awful cologne that that monster had worn that stunk up the place.

Virgil stopped in front of the only patient door in the back that remained firmly shut, his ears perking as he caught the sound of panicked breathing within. He laid a hand on the door, biting his lip as he struggled to catch his own breath.

Two years. Two years and there might actually be a crack in his case. A chance to find the monster who’d done this to him. A chance to–

“He won’t let us get close.” Roman said from behind. “I tried to enter and he threw a metal pan at my face.”

Virgil jumped, biting back a curse. Not surprising, he’d wanted to throw something at the detective a time or two himself. “You saw something.” He whispered, glancing to him.

“Besides this being a similar setup to the other clinics we’ve found?”

Other clinics where there’d been mangled bodies that barely looked human. Virgil raised an eyebrow, hand tightening on the door knob.

Roman nodded, fidgeting in place. “A…a tail I think. So I thought…Not that you have one–” Roman glanced not so subtly at his legs.

If he could continue to keep the detective from seeing his tail it would be a miracle. It was bad enough he knew about the ears…and the claws.

“But he sounded like you with all the growling so I—”

“You do realize if he’s like…a werewolf, this won’t end well right?” Virgil muttered, turning his attention to back to the noises he could hear within. Could this guy hear them too? “We don’t know if it’s just…cats.” If the dude was part canine then they’d be in trouble. Cats and Dogs didn’t mix well.

“That didn’t sound like a howl, Virgil.”

“I know.” He snapped. “It just…” He gestured to the door. “You think–”

He hated how Roman’s eyes softened. “If he’s like you, Virge, then we may have a new lead for your case.”

That would be something wouldn’t it? Virgil took a breath. If…if he was like him…then he wouldn’t be the only one. He wouldn’t feel like such a freak. They could be one step closer to catching the so-called Doctor that had done this to him.

“Stay here.” He said, pushing open the door and slipping inside, leaving it open a crack just in case things went sour and Princey needed to save the day.  

The whistling of an object flying through the air was his only warning. Virgil ducked, crouching down on all fours as a clipboard smashed into the door and fell to the tile at his feet with a loud clatter.  

“NO. STAY AWAY!” The terrified voice yowled from behind the exam table. “GO!”

“Virge!” Roman called, hand on the door.

Virgil made a negating gesture, shushing Princey. “I’m fine.” He said in a low tone. “Stay.” The last thing he needed was the detective coming in and scaring the guy further.

Roman made a face through the crack as he took a step backwards. “Be careful.”

Wasn’t he always? Virgil glanced down at the clipboard, noting the papers still attached and the name Patton Hart scrawled across the top in a very familiar script.

An irritated growl rumbled in his chest. So close to catching the Doctor and they’d once again missed him. “Maybe try saying please…Patton?” Virgil asked, edging on all fours away from the door so he could see the victim. He lifted his head to briefly meet the glowing golden eyes of the shadowy figure huddled in the corner that were so similar to his own. “It is Patton right?”

The figure–Patton–hissed.  “Please. Get. Away.”

Virgil tilted his head, staying crouched as his eyes adjusted to dim room. “No.” Not when he could see the pale cat shaped ears twitching on the man’s head, the marks on the walls from the bloody claws coming from the man’s fingers, the fluffy tail curled protectively around himself.

Hope rose like a burning sun in his chest. Not alone.

“PLEASE.”

Virgil lifted a hand, hesitating on his hood. “You’re not going to hurt me, Pat” He said keeping his voice low. “And I won’t hurt you, okay? My name is Virgil and we’re…we’re a lot alike.”

Near hysterical laughter came from the corner. “A-alike? We-we-we’re not alik–”

The man cut off as Virgil lowered his hood, revealing his own dark cat ears. The golden eyes widened, watching as his ears swiveled about, listening to ensure there was no one else nearby.

He could only hear Princey breathing far too loudly on the other side of the door. At least the detective was listening to him and staying put.

“You’re–” Patton whispered, his pale tail lifting in a question mark.

Virgil gave a shaky smile, glancing one more time to the door to make sure Roman wasn’t visible before cautiously allowing his own black tail to slip out into view, curling it around himself. “Allergy shots right?” He said, cautiously moving closer as the man sat up, cracked glasses glinting in the faint light as they fell to the floor. Hopefully Pat wouldn’t still need those. The cat ears wouldn’t be able to keep them in place with how much they moved. “Needed to be given twice weekly for six months?” He’d only made it to the fourth month before….before the change.

He’d barely slept the three weeks after the change, wondering what would have happened to him had he made it through the entire six month dosage. Would he have changed fully into a cat after that final dose had been given? It was something he still had nightmares about.

A small whimper escaped from Patton as he nodded. “Yes. I thought–you’re-you’re telling me–I’m not the only–” He suddenly surged forward, grabbing Virgil in a surprise hug, sobbing, flinching with each movement of his tail as it curled around them as he pressed his face into Virgil’s chest. “I’m not alone?” He mumbled.

“N-no.” Virgil managed, his ears twitching violently as he fought to keep his heart in his chest. He hadn’t expected the man to be so quick to trust him…or touch him. “I’m…here.”   Awkwardly he hugged him back. “You’re going to be alright. It’s…the worst of it’s over.”

Patton’s ears moved, tickling Virgil’s chin as he clung all the tighter to him, breath hitching. “I–I thought I was–I was going to die.”

Virgil flinched, the memory of his own painful change coming back full force. Death probably would have been more gentle than feeling like he was being turned inside out and boiled alive in lava. “Me too.” He managed to whisper.

Patton lifted his head, brilliant gold eyes far too close to Virgil’s own as he gripped his jacket, ears laying back. “Do you kno–Can you tell me who did this to you–to me–us?” He demanded with quiet desperation, his tail thrashing behind him. “Tell me you caught her. That she didn’t get away.”  

Her? Virgil froze, his breath catching in his throat making it difficult to breathe. That couldn’t be right. “I—my d-d-doctor…” He stammered out, unable to look away. “Introduced himself as Dr. Friedrich Sticker. Had a heavy German accent?”

“Him?” The tail went limp as Patton slumped back, running a hand through his hair. He made a face as his fingers found one of his ears, quickly dropping his hand. “I—I thought she was male at first, but she said–” Patton hunched his shoulders, pale ears flicking back and forth. “She was here to help …she was…” He shuddered. “Her hands were always so cold.”  

Cold hands? Virgil perked up at that. Could they actually be the same person? If Sticker had switched not only his identity, but gender as well— no wonder all their leads had dried up! The police had been only searching for males that matched his description of the doctor. “The hands.” He said, shifting closer, his tail curling around to brush Pat’s. “Was she missing a finger on one?”

“….Yes.” He whispered, breath hitching as his tail entwined around Virgil’s. “The pinky on her right hand.”

His heart jumped into his throat. What were the odds? The odds of a man and a woman both being doctors, giving allergy shots, and missing a finger?

Very. Very slim.

We got you Sticker. “Mine too.”

Patton’s ears twitched as he met cautiously met Virgil’s eyes. “Did you catch her–them then?” He asked.

Virgil hated that he had to say no. “No.” Roman would have mentioned that first thing if they had. But while Sticker had always left evidence behind that he–they were involved in cases like this…the police could never find them, not until the next victim appeared.

The hope in Pat’s face vanished. “Oh.” He said, pulling his knees up to his chin, raising one hand to feel his ear. “So what now? Are they–” He shuddered, leaning against Virgil. “Is the Doctor going to come back? To finish…..this?”

No, once the-” Virgil grimaced. “Once the change starts, Sticker abandons their patients.” To die. He remembered. Had watched the doctor walk out without looking back as Virgil had fallen screaming and writhing to the floor after that last ‘allergy’ shot had been given. It had to be the same for the others they’d found though he didn’t know for sure. Virgil had been the only one to survive. Until now.

“They do? Why–shouldn’t a doctor want to see the end result of their–” Patton shuddered, dropping his hand from his ears. “Why would they try to turn me–us into a cat instead of curing us of our allergies to them? Why—leave?”

If only he he knew. Virgil exhaled, his tail twisting with Patton’s. “Well…the good news is, if you’re like me. You’re no longer going to be allergic to cats.” So in a sense, Sticker had accomplished their goal of curing them.

Which was a major plus. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with being part cat and allergic to himself.

Patton’s lifted his head to meet Virgil’s eyes, his hand dropping to their entwined tails. “That’s…that will be nice.” He said, glancing down, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips as he ran his hand through their fur. “I love cats.”

Virgil shivered, his tail tensing under Patton’s hand. Well maybe Pat would have an easier time adjusting to his new life then. The enhanced senses, the fur that got everywhere, the constantly twitching tail and ears…

“You’re sure the Doctor isn’t going to come back?” Patton suddenly asked, interrupting Virgil’s thoughts. “To finish our shots?”

Virgil nodded, reaching out to squeeze Pat’s hand, offering him a confident smile. “I’m sure. Sticker never came back to find me. They won’t come back for you either.” He’d make sure of that. Patton would be safe. “For us- for you, Pat, it’s over. They’re not going to hurt you again. I promise.”