CH2
It seemed like days had passed. Underground, and with no timing among the light in the small room turning on and off Kakashi had no sense of the world around him. He had tried counting, meditating, everything— nothing seemed to work. In the end, he felt like he was growing in a sense, a tad crazy .
He had not seen Orochimaru in some time. He’d yet to see any others, despite knowing there were others. He found it strange. He had obviously been after them- their identity and the information they had stolen. He had come here prepared to kill. Yet... they seemed to deem it fit to simply let him sit instead of disposing him, or trying to force any more information out of him. At this point he would have taken torture.
Nin did not discriminate, pregnant or not, so he truly did not understand. He’d seen his fair share of horror, seen omegas and pregnant people torn to shreds for what they knew. What made him different?
He could smell his own stale scent settling into the room. He grimaced. He wanted a shower, badly. The balm had faded by now, but the damp and heat of the land had clung to him, souring his already irritable scent. He felt gross. It wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with, but after a while out of the field, and carrying, he found he had a much stronger obsession with cleanliness. There was little he could do though. He would bear it for the moment.
Kakashi only wished he had been able to send word back before he had been caught. It had been his own mistake in the first place; he had underestimated them and overestimated himself. He had had time to reflect-- and only now saw how foolish and reckless he had been. He had been desperate to prove himself still capable, and it all had fallen down around him.
With so much time on his hands his anger had turned into bitter acceptance. He fucked up. He wished Obito was there to scold him.
These days he found himself wishing a lot. Wanting. Begging even, for things to be as they once were. He was particularly pathetic for it. Death was one thing they could not change, as much as they wanted. He had never been able to accept it though. As much as he was faced with it, as much as he had killed ... in the end, it haunted him. His family, his friends, his home... ravaged by the endless cruelty of their world.
Everyone but him had died in the end. It had been his fate to watch every last one of the people he held dear be torn away. He had furthered the cycle of hatred for their sake, and yet, and yet...
Now it was his turn. His captors seemed to think isolation was fit enough for his torture. They didn't know his thoughts couldn't turn much worse than they already had on the daily. He could play such a waiting game- he had before.
It was a matter of who broke first. He rather death than to betray Konoha. Their reluctance to hurt him showed they couldn't afford to lose him for one reason or another. Perhaps he was overestimating that, but it was the chance he had to take.
For the moment he had been let off of the bed on a leash of sorts, it allowed him to interact enough but not escape or get close enough to the only exit- the door. On top of that, they had some way of drugging him rather effectively, dulling his senses and slowing his movements- he guessed it could be in the air vents.
There wasn't much he could do about that. So instead he studied the rest of his room. A toilet, a sink— one of which he had quickly washed his face in when he had found it— some chairs and a table. To the far end, medical supplies and instruments he had no name for distinctly out of reach. Orochimaru had done well— had not underestimated him. There was otherwise nothing else of interest. He could study the pattern of the wall, count the cracks in the ceiling.... but he had already done so. He didn’t feel quite crazy enough to do that again yet.
So he sat back on the bed. Crossed his legs under him at the ankle and... waited.
It was going to be a long captivity.
—-
Meditation had been something he had taken up in genuine effort over the past year. He had learned to, had trained to do as much- but he had never relied on it as much as he did now. Minato had always encouraged him, guided him towards something that could help the nightmares. The... anxiety. All things he had never wanted to admit, but of course the two of them had read him like a well-worn book.
They’d been too good for him. After reluctantly sitting with his Sensei for his sessions it was only truly after he had died that he had relied on it more than the company sitting with Minato had given him.
In the cold stone cave he found it was one of the only tools he had been afforded.
So he sat on the hard cot, legs crossed at the ankle and breath steady. Back straight, mind carefully blank... drifting. He allowed thoughts to come and then pass, something he struggled with.
He wasn’t truly meditating just yet. For now, he would breathe, watch time flow and reflect. Though his hands rested lightly on his knees, he found himself letting one slide to his abdomen as his thoughts drifted as if at sea. Pressing gently to the side of taut skin, feeling the warmth there. Feeling the life that could be there. He rubbed gentle circles as if to soothe the sleeping being, or perhaps himself. It was an... odd connection. He would not have allowed himself to frivolously touch such a place only months prior. The grief and panic that insued had always been overwhelming.
He had come a long way with accepting his pregnancy.
The memory of only a precious few months prior came unbidden.
...
At first, he had been at war with himself. He had felt unprepared. Like he was stranded at sea. He had been excited for the birth of Minato’s child, but had never thought he himself would... do so. It had changed everything. He had been left reeling, entirely alone. Feeling isolated. He had wanted his team- his pack at his back, but they were... gone.
It had just been too much. The idea of creating a life, alone- with just him to care for it... how was he supposed to do it? He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t capable. He wasn’t worthy of such a thing. He’d never done anything in his life to deserve such a gift, to deserve such a fragile thing to depend on him. Kakashi was a killer. A child was not meant to be on his hip— he’d ruin them.
He didn’t want to create another broken child. He didn’t want to take another’s happiness, their life- he didn’t want to break a child. He would. He was not meant for this.
As much as the idea also made his chest swell with butterflies... He would not be swayed by brittle emotions. They were deceiving, told him lies and clouded his sight from the danger he posed to the thing within him.
He’d been practically living with Minato and Kushina since he had found out. Being off the roster made him want to hide. Others knew by his scent, he was sure. But it was— was— too much still. He didn’t want their looks. So he had stayed there, helping Kushina, learning what it would be like. She was entirely, utterly wonderful. But...
He just wanted Obito and Rin to tell him it would be okay . That their hearts would guide him. Show him. Keep the child safe from him.
Before, when he had ever imagined his children, on the rare time he had entertained the idea he had always imagined them there, too. Guiding him. Rin’s care and Obito’s laugh. Together they had been his compass.
And now he was at sea without any equipment.
He hadn’t known what he was thinking when he had left the Fourth Hokage’s house entirely flustered. Feeling on edge and overwhelmed he had left, needing to move, to just be away— anything. He barely remembered what had triggered it. All he had known was that home had been suddenly too much and his legs started moving on their own. Kushina’s voice echoing after him.
And now here he was. In nothing but his pajamas, crouched in a back alley with his head between his knees and fire in his lungs.
He felt so pathetic. Useless. He couldn’t do this. Not without them.
He curled his fingers into his silver hair and pulled . Strands breaking free. The prickle pain of it dull against the overwhelming numb in his skin.
He needed... needed— he didn’t know anymore.
He couldn’t breathe. Eyes clouded, wet, lip bleeding from where he had sunk his teeth in.
He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t...
“Kakashi?”
Distantly he heard it.
“Kakashi,” closer now. Softer.
Why? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He didn’t want to talk.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he jerked, looking up sharply, ready to snap and snarl. His scent flaring aggressively — until he saw the young man’s face.
Itachi Uchiha. For a moment he stared owlishly at the endlessly patient teen. Biting back the croak in his voice- until he glanced down. The baby in the sling against the boy’s chest stared unblinking at him and he froze entirely, not even daring to take a breath.
Sasuke Uchiha was only a few months old and he had already developed that serious stare the Uchihas had, all dark eyes and darker hair framing a fat face.
He was sure he looked pathetic. Swollen lip, and red, tear streaked eyes and a fistful of broken silver strands between his fingers. Crouched in a back alley in bed rumpled pajamas.
He was the kid’s Anbu captain. And now the teen got to see how far he’d fallen.
“Hey,” he breathed. The scratch in his voice entirely too present. “I, uh...”
“A baby won’t ruin your life, kakashi.” Itachi said this so plainly and absolutely it blindsighted him. He’d not exactly told anyone, but he guessed his scent had changed enough by now to be pretty obvious. Besides his current meltdown on the back road, of course.
He jerked, sitting up a bit and gripping his knees. Staring at the teen not unlike a feral animal.
He felt ridiculous. Being comforted by the most deadly ANBU on the force while said teen coddled his baby brother. The calming, soothing omega scent the young man exuded was not quite the fully rounded heady omega smell that a fully grown adult would have, but it still cut the edge. The fact that the teen was trying regardless said miles. He could hardly imagine the sort of ninja itachi would grow into.
He would be the pride of the Uchiha. He knew many of the clan had already staked the young teen as a future Hokage.
...Obito had never had a chance at that title. But the man had been more honorable and worthy of it than any of them. Obito could have been the Hokage. He had been so selfless.
Thinking of the dead alpha only brought pain, Sharp in his chest, so he cut him from his thoughts quickly. He knew better.
So instead he stared at the infinitely patient face of Itachi through bleary, stinging eyes. The teen waiting for him to process things on his own time. The kid had always seen through him- everyone. It seemed like he knew more than any of them at times.
Beyond his strength, both of body and character, itachi’s smooth acceptance of his designation, and pointed fearlessness he exuded about the facts of life had always greatly unnerved kakashi since the day the teen had presented. He’d never been so level headed and steady as him in his entire life. He admired him for it.
“It’s not- my life I’m worried about,” he bit out, swallowing down the shame in his voice. His knuckles were white gripping the fabric covering his knees. He took a shaking breath that hitched into a hiccup and he felt shame burning hot in his chest.
Instead of saying anything Itachi simply stared at him, expression soft, but otherwise unreadable. Kakashi wished he could read the teen better.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Itachi shifted from his crouch to sit next to him against the back of the building, eyes tilting up to stare at the hazy stars dim from the streetlights. He seemed to be thinking, lost in his own moment. Something else entirely on his mind.
Kakashi had never seen him like that. For a moment, just a moment, he forgot his own suffocating misery. The constriction in his lungs distant so briefly. He stared at Itachi.
And sasuke stared at him . The baby had been compliant, but now without anything to entertain him and a distracted brother he grew quickly restless. An angry babble followed by a slap of a tiny hand to his big brother’s chest had Itachi blinking back down at him, shifting gently to pat the child’s back.
And perhaps without even realizing he was doing so, the teen marked his little brother, rubbing his scent into the onesie he was wearing. A fond look on his face even as the infant's own pinched up with distaste, like someone had given him something sour. Rather dominant, even as an infant.
The soft smile on the young omega’s face so full of fondness made kakashi ache.
Itachi must have caught him staring intently at the baby. Endlessly black eyes turned to him, searching yet knowing — and he sat upright. Moving, and kakashi felt alarm growing in his chest that soon turned to horror as the teen slipped his baby brother from the sling.
He found himself frozen. Mortified as the teen ruthlessly made to put the child in his arms .
He found himself choking on air, sputtering out a cracking protest pitched three octaves too high and gasped as if he was short of breath. Suffocating on the gentle Konoha air. “ W-Wait I—!! . .. oh ...”
The baby was settled into his grip and just like that the air in his lungs left him. A gasp filling them back up with the thick scent of baby and Uchiha . The weight of the child was— he was both heavier and lighter than he thought, and as his trembling hands supported sasuke against his chest, the entire world fell away. The baby was so warm ... He felt himself sagging back against the wall. Entranced. All he could see was little features and dark hair and healthy chubby cheeks.
How could Itachi trust him with this? Place his little brother in his arms, staring at him with that softly smug smile. The one he did not notice because all he could look at was the infant. Kakashi could break him in an instant.
“You are more capable than you think, kakashi. Your worth is in more places than the battlefield.” He gestured to sasuke as kakashi looked up at him, eyes fluttering as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away. And really, he couldn’t.
“See? He stopped fussing.” And indeed, the teen was right. The infant’s squirming and grumpy expression had faded, settled into his touch though sasuke seemed like a rather perpetually grumpy child judging by that constant glare. His fat little fingers had curled into his shirt, tugging idly but not insistently. Not demanding as he had been with his brother.
He didn’t know what to say. And as Itachi settled back against the wall, now watching them, kakashi felt an... odd sense of calm wash over him. Hesitantly, he brought trembling fingers up from the baby’s side to press his fingertips to an impossibly soft cheek, sliding up into even softer, fluffy hair.
He wondered what sort of kids Obito would have had, what sort of mate the man would have picked. He had always seemed like a family man, and none more than when he had died. He wished, suddenly, that he was holding Obito’s child. That he could see the man happily mated with the family he always wanted.
His eyes stung. He buried the feeling down, down, down, not unlike his fingers combing through thick dark hair. His breath shook even as he steadied it. Shuddering in his chest. He wished he could stop looking so weak in front of somebody he was always supposed to be strong for.
He found himself too exhausted to care all that much anymore though. The numb was coming back, thick and suffocating— almost electric, yet the warmth of the child in his arms radiated deep into his chest, right down to his bones and kept his heart beating .
And... it was just like that they sat. Watching the clouds pass in a dark skylit sky. Kakashi felt like he was floating- yet grounded, tethered entirely by the baby in his arms.
Could he really do this? Could he hold— it just like this? Could he truly...?
It seemed like a lifetime had passed. The only indication of time when Itachi glanced at a hidden watch and regrettably informed him that it was curfew- and kakashi gave his little brother up to him in mild reluctance. Fingers lingering, then falling to the empty space on his chest, a lost weight he found himself missing. His chest felt hollow where the baby had settled. As if he had taken a piece with him. He thanked the young ANBU quietly, and watched as he headed back to the Uchiha estate.
Kakashi had finally gone home, exhausted but mind clear, back to the worried arms of Kushina and Minato. The warmth of their arms, and the then-unbearable scenting he had been given rather aggressively by the both of them had left him flustered but feeling as if he belonged.
They had taken him in, treated him like their child unhesitatingly when his father died. Nobody could replace the White Fang, but... Minato was something else entirely to him. Something Sakumo could have never been. He was Pack. Family. His Leader. He and Minato had imprinted on each other far stronger than he had with Sakumo.
It was truly a mystery as to why- but neither cared. Kakashi had needed him after the event of his father’s suicide and Minato’s instincts had been strong enough to take him in, make him his. To claim him as his son.
It had been so fast, so instinctually urgent that neither had known what had really been done until kakashi had realized the only thing he had been able to smell on himself was Minato- including the absence of his own smell. And the strong parent-bond singing between them had been like a freshly warmed blanket, heavy and all consuming. It had been the first full breath he had taken in days, and to say he had lived in Minato and Kushina’s bedroom for the following month after would have been an understatement. (They had said it was normal for his age at the time but it was not, not for a trained Hatake. The White Fang had expected different.)
Despite all of it he had still been possessed by enough stupidity to flee his own solstice.
Kakashi’s anxiety would never leave him peace. Especially not for running from his Sensei. He had flushed in guilt in the face of their care and worry, feeling awkward, and shameful but otherwise feeling much, much lighter.
Dinner had been quiet but, for once, bearable.
....
He drifted back to himself in a sluggish sort of way. Tired, yearning. Kakashi wished he had those two to go back to now. Even after losing so much, he had still taken for granted their presence. Their devotion and love to a child that had entirely fallen into their laps. It still shook him to his core. To belong between the two of them had been more than any dream could create.
Losing them had been the final straw, he supposed. Obito and Rin had torn him apart, laid him bare, and Minato and Kushina had plunged the blade deep. Left him there, wishing to pull the blade free and finally bleed out. But there had been more work, more needs more loss to deal with. Kakashi Hatake was not meant to rest.
It was only the concern of a life within him that had brought his body to an agonizing halt.
He wanted to run from that, too. This was not new. His life was mostly made of it, honestly. He was nothing more than a coward and he knew it.
Well, now, kakashi was tired. Too tired to run. He would face whatever this was.
Yet despite everything, knowing what he needed to do, he felt homesick. Alone in a cell, for that is what it truly was, he surely missed home. A harsh turn from wanting to be away from it, as he had been only days prior.
How could he have thought that way? Konoha was his Sensei’s treasure. Obito’s treasure. Kushina’s. Everyone he had ever cared for had loved their home. He had too— but it seemed, he realized, he had forgotten it.
Why had he ever come to that? Minato had died for the village, for him. His grief spoke- and had somehow blinded him in the process. All he had ever seen was Minato's sacrifice. Now he saw once again what it had truly been. He wished he hadn’t learned this from being held hostage away from all that he had ever cared for.
Kakashi found he had a newly-fueled fire in his gut to protect Konoha. To return to Konoha. He would do this... and bring down Orochimaru and his new organization.
---
He was drowning. The mute whoosh of water amplified the roar of the blood in his veins, threatening to break the steel-willed calm he gripped with weakening fingers, skittering for purchase on the intangible force, overwhelming as it was. The prickle-cold-numb assaulting his senses, a gasp in his throat though he only choked on water. It zapped his senses like lightning— black edged his awareness, a waning attempt at focus overcome by the sharp and dizzy anxiety flooding his system. It was a natural response of the body, and even framing it in a sense of calm, for they would not kill him this way only did so much. The body reacted, and even he could not defy it after so long.
His lungs took in without his permission and he choked on water, genuinely this time, ice flooding his lungs, and he thrashed.
—And just like that he was being wrenched away, a hand on the back of his head yanking him up from the ice cold water.
Kakashi gasped a ragged breath, coughing and choking now blessedly on air as he spit up the water he’d taken in. His chest heaved, a wet gush as water came up out and onto the cement floor. He pushed away, leaning back on his heels in a moment of firm defiance. Though he was on his knees in front of the basin, arms tied behind him, he would stand firm. Even as his drenched hair blocked his view and his cold fingers could not sweep the waterlogged strands away. His hands were fuzzy with numbness at his back, his restraints too tight. His lungs ached and burned from the water, a sharp stab all over.
The hand was back. Curling tightly into his hair and shoving him back down. He resisted briefly, breath clipped, taking in desperate gulps before he was plunged back under.
It was always water. An incredibly effective tool- even the best could not hold up to the face of the sense of drowning . ANBU were trained in how to use it. They were also trained in how to resist— but it was a pale comparison to the real thing. He knew it would end then— here? He did not. It broke any man’s will. He understood why.
Brought to the brink of collapse over and over again— yet without injury, there could be no limit. Only the mental exhaustion, before one would break.
Kakashi had no intention of breaking however. Though he wished for it’s end, it would never be enough to make him talk.
Genjutsu had not worked. They had tried- but his mental strength had been too much. And the ANBU seals placed in his mind prevented prying. The old school methods had risen in jutsu’s place, and they certainly did not seem to mind testing his limits. Seeing how far they could push. There almost seemed to be a satisfaction to it.
Even if he did break they would not get what they wanted. If anything, he enjoyed their frustration.
“— that’s enough,” watery words met his submerged ears in a detached, distant sort of way, mangled by the slosh of fluid as he was brought back up from the brink once more. Breath came short and harsh, and he let his forehead press against the lip of the metal basin when they let him as he fought to quell the burning in his lungs. They seemed to be done for the moment.
Kakashi blinked the rivulets of water from his eyes unsuccessfully. He felt chilled to the bone, lightheaded and tense as a coil all at once.
“We’re done for today. Take him back.” Kakashi’s ears popped with the words. He shifted, stiffened, and then held perfectly still as his restraints were removed. The rush of blood back into his cold limbs ached so much that he jerked, clumsily curling his freed arms into his chest. There was a slight chatter to his teeth that he could not stop, not even with the forcefully calm breaths he took through his nose.
The day’s torturer gripped him by the upper arm this time, hauling him to his feet on stiff legs. He missed shoes. The rough floor bit into his skin and the chill of it sunk into his bones. His arm was jerked forwards to make him move.
Something about it and the cold spurred something in him that had been exhaustedly patient.
His hand flew up to the man’s wrist and twisted ruthlessly, spinning on his heel to tackle the beta. Shoulder collided with sternum and he ripped into the tool pouch by his attackers hip, gripping the kunai with savage satisfaction and tearing it free. He had sorely missed the weight of it on his palm, and the way it positively bit into the man’s throat as he surged upwards made his instincts sing. Red heat gushed to meet his fingers, a vital artery struck and he went down with him.
Kakashi had not felt so vindicated with a kill in years . His hands were coated in the beta’s blood, a heavy metallic scent that sunk into him and blinded his nose. Hot and slippery on his skin. Some savage part of him wanted to brutalize his tormentor, but he stuffed that dark, hideous thing back down.
Though it had only been an instant kakashi was too slow now, not yet fast enough being both drugged and exhausted that he could not evade the beta’s partner in time.
The grip on his shoulder and fingers curling into his hair was given with a sharp twist, a booted foot coming to the back of his left knee. He jerked, hissing through clenched teeth at the hot, bubbling searing pop it gave. The kunai fell from his grip on reflex, pressing down instead to keep himself upright.
“You’ll pay for that,” the beta spit, somewhere by his right ear. Kakashi couldn’t tell. He only knew that his leg sorely regretted that last move.
For a moment time stalled. He met blinding pain with feral intent, anger and teeth , and something on the other man tore under his fangs. Heat surged to meet his lips, filling his mouth, and the struggle ceased instantly. But his triumph was gone just as soon as it hit. The slip of hot fluid down his side twisted the victory into something hazy.
Spitting a mouthful of the others blood, he could feel his lower face soaked even as he brought a clumsy hand to the deep gash in his ribs.
The world listed, his body suddenly light as air, almost as if he could float away. Cold stone met his forehead, and just as he had time to wonder when he had laid down, the world faded like the bubbling rush of blood down his side.
—-
“—-fix him, fix him now , goddammit,”
It was faint, swimming somewhere off to the side. It sounded like... obito. It was just like him. Right down to that growl that edged his words when he was upset. Kakashi knew it well- he had always been on the older boy’s nerves. But obito was dead. It was a dream, then. His mind had supplied a good impersonation of what he’d have sounded like older. Voice deep, but smothered under that bolster something sweet and kind. Playful, but unyieldingly caring.
“—I know you can! So just do it!”
What was he talking about- who? Was it him? There was something about that aggressive car being pointed at him that made something deep inside positively flutter . It also ached in the same breath. It was too easy to indulge in the dream, even if things seemed to be growing more and more faint...
—-
“You gave us quite a scare, pet. You’re lucky my skills include medical ninjutsu.” Orochimaru’s voice filtered in as the same time kakashi’s eyes fluttered open. There was a low ache in his side, and soreness screamed from every angle of his body. Exhaustion clung to him, his earlier exertion fuzzy, coming back in muddled waves.
The two nin he’d killed, the injury to his side. He’d gotten desperate. Taken a risk on the bank that they would not kill him. But when it came to kakashi’s intent, their only defense was to kill or be killed. He should have been more patient.
He wondered what retribution he would be met with for this incident. What punishment would be handed out. Captors never take kindly to excess resources being expended.
“Tt. Your stubbornness is going to kill you pup. I’m surprised it hasn’t yet. Oh, poor boy... Has the loss of your pack left you wild, hm? That bite was beautiful . You left such clean marks. Hatake instincts are always so strong. You went entirely feral. How fascinating .” His voice was thick, soft as if to comfort him but filled with an almost infatuated fascination— nearly adoration.
“Bite me,” kakashi muttered, too woozy to protest the hands on him. Orochimaru’s responding laugh was light and unbothered.
“I do not think you want that, child.” He hummed, and Kakashi believed him.
The scent of the other omega had changed, mildly. Orochimaru did not seem one to hide his scent, but here it seemed dampened. It may have just been the drugs, but kakashi could hardly smell him. Was the snake going out ? The only reason kakashi could think of was an extended trip- one he wouldn’t want to be detected on.
That made something cold and heavy settle into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know why- but it couldn’t be good. Had he let something slip without realizing it?
“You’re leaving.” The drugs had addled his inhibition. He bit the inside of his cheek to bite back any more inquiry.
“Astute observation,” Orochimaru hummed back. “It’s none of your concern, however. Be a good pet till I get back, hm?”
The exhaustion was creeping back. Kakashi blearily watched Orochimaru Inject something into an iv— an IV he belatedly realized was connected to his arm. He was getting sick of being put under. Yet... something in him decided that it probably would be in his best interests to listen to his captor- for once. He had already been shown he couldn’t press his luck here.
The drugs did their work just as kakashi felt a shift within his belly. Movement he had no time to genuinely register before darkness consumed him once again.
That had never happened before.
Minato Sensei was supposed to have been the one by his side for that. Instead, Kakashi couldn’t even experience the quickening for himself.