Why indeed? It had been tested and proven that those who died from the madness were returned with clearer minds, but Loki had a three-strike policy he was loathe to watch tallied up against Kakashi so soon. It had started with the best of intentions. All of it had: every progressive mistake that had stacked a rising debt of guilt that would forever collect interest and compound upon itself, all of it had started with good intentions.
The best laid plans of mice and monsters, he supposed.
He said nothing but his hand tightened and moved, while his free palm smoothed lower to cup and roll Kakashi's balls tight, squeezing lightly to intensify it. Why...?
Because Itachi was a shell of a man now who had lived and died for the sake of another who would benefit nothing from his sacrifices and his love. Because his mercy and his desire to protect was toxic, and the hands he extended to help steeped in the blood of a thousand misgivings and lies that he'd painted under his nails, his eyelids, his conscience, and had glued his lips closed even now.
Because he felt he had no choice anymore. Because he understood a little too much what Kakashi meant, when he'd whispered that he was tired, so tired, because death was meant to bring him peace and instead it had taken him here, to forever burn as a ghost in the rafters, watching his brother suffer and die in the pain of the weights Itachi had borne all his life, that were not meant for Sasuke's frail shoulders.
"Quiet," he warned, his voice cold and toneless. His pulse beat like a metronome, his touch clinical, quiet quiet, he did this because he needed to.
He was no stranger to hatred. He would turn his cheek to Kakashi's, should it come, when it came. It was his penance. It was what he deserved. That was why.
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winterfish
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Date: Tuesday, 5 October 2010 02:12 am (UTC)The best laid plans of mice and monsters, he supposed.
He said nothing but his hand tightened and moved, while his free palm smoothed lower to cup and roll Kakashi's balls tight, squeezing lightly to intensify it. Why...?
Because Itachi was a shell of a man now who had lived and died for the sake of another who would benefit nothing from his sacrifices and his love. Because his mercy and his desire to protect was toxic, and the hands he extended to help steeped in the blood of a thousand misgivings and lies that he'd painted under his nails, his eyelids, his conscience, and had glued his lips closed even now.
Because he felt he had no choice anymore. Because he understood a little too much what Kakashi meant, when he'd whispered that he was tired, so tired, because death was meant to bring him peace and instead it had taken him here, to forever burn as a ghost in the rafters, watching his brother suffer and die in the pain of the weights Itachi had borne all his life, that were not meant for Sasuke's frail shoulders.
"Quiet," he warned, his voice cold and toneless. His pulse beat like a metronome, his touch clinical, quiet quiet, he did this because he needed to.
He was no stranger to hatred. He would turn his cheek to Kakashi's, should it come, when it came. It was his penance. It was what he deserved. That was why.