For once, it wasn't a kick to the back of the skull. Instead, the jutsu simply wrapped insistent hands around Kakashi's exhausted mind and shoved him out of sleep. Like a low jolt of adrenaline, without the belly-clench.

He blinked once, and got a one-sided worldview made up entirely of hands. Fingers pressed to his temple -- both temples, by the feel of it -- and glowing faintly green.

"Shiranui? What--?" he growled, reaching to bat them away, and froze. No scars on those hands. The scent was all wrong.

"Now, Hatake-san..." began a low warning voice, but Kakashi had already grabbed both wrists in the most painful lock he knew. Twisting the medic's thumbs back to kiss their own tendons, a heartbeat from dislocating. The medic's breath hissed out in a painful stutter.

"Don't move," Kakashi snapped, not looking away from the man's agonized eyes. "Genma? You okay?"

"I'm okay." Genma's voice sounded shaky, but clear. "Got an invitation to dinner at the Hokage palace. Are you okay?"

"I've had better mornings," Kakashi said, then realized that, actually, lately, he hadn't, because that was the code phrase and ohthankgod. He yanked himself awkwardly up, using his double-hold on the medic for balance, and took in the room. The white-faced medic's assistant; Genma flat on his back; the woman in Konoha colours with her hands clenched tight around Genma's shoulders.

Kakashi's eye narrowed, then widened. "I know you," he said. "You were at that mess in Aomori, with the kids."

The woman raised one startled eyebrow. "That was two years ago."

Kakashi shrugged, making the medic groan. "It was memorable. You want to get your hands off my teammate?"

The woman's hands fell carefully away from Genma's shoulders. He surged upright like someone had jabbed a bolt of lightning through his spine, but halted abruptly when the woman grabbed him again. Kakashi's jaw set, but the woman simply said, "Stay where you are, Shiranui-san," before releasing him a second time.

"Well, this is touching," said the medic in a thin, high voice. "But absolutely no one is getting out of here without a medical sign off, and for that I require the use of my thumbs."

"There are other medics," Kakashi said pleasantly, but he let his grip slacken slightly, backing down from excruciating to merely agonizing. The Konoha woman -- what was her name? -- was on her feet, crossing the strip of floor between them. Kakashi looked beyond her to the medic's assistant. "You, girl, get over to the wall."

She scrambled to obey.

The Konoha woman -- Sugi-something, he was sure, and aa first name that began with M -- crouched down just out of Kakashi's reach, putting herself on eye-level. "Hatake-san," she greeted.

"You're late," he told her. "When's Genma getting out?"

"In just a moment, provided you don't create another political tangle for us." She glanced once at the medic, entirely unsympathetic. "Let him go, please. We need his hands."

Around the exhaustion, the dull elation, and the lazy swirl of what felt like new painkillers in his bloodstream, Kakashi felt the barest ghost of a smirk catch the corner of his mouth. "Pretty sure he owes them to Genma," he said. "Shiranui's not saying, but I'll bet you anything you like this is the idiot who botched his patch-up the first time round."

"Oh," said the woman softly, "we know it is."

Kakashi felt a quick, subtle tremor ripple through the flesh-and-bone in his grip. He glanced sideways, straight at Genma. "You're getting out, Shiranui. Want some payback before you go?"

We're getting out," Genma corrected, locking his eyes on Kakashi's for a moment, then looking pointedly at Kakashi's hands wrapped around Kumoto's strained thumbs. Payback? Did he want payback? What kind of payback could possibly make up for what he'd lost? There was only a little satisfaction in seeing Kumoto looking frightened and pained, with his piggish little eyes dancing from Kakashi to Genma and back. Genma's lip curled in a disgusted smile and Kumoto swiveled his head towards Sugimoto in a desperate appeal.

"Much as I would like to allow you your liberty in this matter, Shiranui-san," she said placidly. "And trust me, I would — I am here to escort you into the hands of Konoha's medics under the terms of the treaty with Iwagakure."

"Under the terms of the treaty?" Genma echoed tightly. "Under the terms of the damned treaty we should both be going home right this damn second; they pissed all over the treaty when they tor—"

"Shiranui-san!" Sugimoto barked. "It is not particularly easy to earn an invitation to the Hokage's table. You should show more gratitude."

Genma's throat choked closed. It wasn't the rescue Kakashi had promised. It was half-a-rescue that might go wrong at any minute. That key word, gratitude, was another coded message, simple and direct: we are far from out of the woods here.

His eyes darted towards the medic's assistant: she looked like easy prey. Kakashi had Kumoto pinned in a grip that made Genma's own hands ache just to see it. Sugimoto was clearly a jounin of exceptional skill. They needed to get out of here. They could get out of here. Now.

Kumoto groaned, his shoulders trembling.

Genma pushed up into a crouch and felt the world lurch around him; the light in the cell seemed to dim.

"Hatake-san," Sugimoto said in that same, too-calm tone as before, "Please release the medic. Shiranui-san, you are not well. I am here to escort you to Konoha's medics. Hatake-san will be able to dine with you and Sandaime-sama at a later date."

Subtle.

Kakashi flicked a slanting look at the Konoha woman which suggested, he hoped, that if she didn't stop speaking code with every breath, Iwa was going to figure it out and then he'd have to break her thumbs. She gave him a bland stare back.

Kakashi looked away first, lowering his head down to the medic's ear. "Count yourself lucky," he murmured.

To the man's credit, he barely shivered. Kakashi released him with a jerk and shoved himself to his feet, flexing his aching right hand. Newly bandaged -- probably newly sealed. He'd test it later. The medic stayed on his knees, hands pulled in tight to his chest, like a bad Genma-mimic.

"Excellent," said the Konoha woman -- Sugimoto, he remembered finally. "Shiranui-san, if you'll accompany me--"

Genma made a low-throated choking sound, like someone had grabbed him by the windpipe. Kakashi glanced sharply at him, ready for yet another medical emergency, and realized it was just a protest. So automatic and fierce that it'd become sound before Genma had been able to find words.

That was almost sweet, in an entirely pointless kind of way.

"Shiranui," Kakashi said, and was slightly gratified when Genma's eyes snapped straight to him. He pointed at Sugimoto. "There's your rescue. Get your ass out of here while you can still stand. I'll catch up later."

Not code, but clear enough. I expected this. It's fine.

Genma's eyes narrowed slowly, gold slits in his pale face, and his sharp-angled jaw set. It would have been threatening, maybe, if he hadn't been standing with his shoulders bowed, his hands shaking faintly, like they had been for days, and pain marked in every line of his body. He wasn't dying, but Sugimoto was right, he wasn't well.

It would hurt to stay behind -- probably in all sorts of ways -- but that didn't matter, Genma still had to go.

Kakashi jerked his chin towards the door. "Tell the Hokage I send my regards. And try not to die before you get home."

If Genma's gaze could have been any sharper, Kakashi would have bled. So would Sugimoto, when Genma turned his searing look on her, full of leashed, impotent fury. It wasn't Kakashi he was truly angry with though, or this woman from Intel whose uniform said she was a diplomat but whose demeanor screamed "handler." It was Kumoto, still crouched on the floor next to the stained mattresses, trying to rub feeling back into red-blotched hands. Genma took two steps towards Kumoto and swayed, frankly shaking now with the effort of restraint.

Kakashi was little more than an arm's length away. When Genma took another faltering step, Kakashi's hand shot out in a protective grab. Genma met it halfway, clutching at Kakashi's forearm. Kakashi's fingers wrapped around Genma's elbow, cold and powerful. Sugimoto materialized at Genma's other side, catching him by the shoulder and steadying his sway.

"You try not to die until you get home either," Genma said, ignoring Sugimoto entirely. "You owe me at least fifty ryou from what you lost last night, but I'll let you try to win it back. I'll even get us a proper kabufuda deck." His fingers on Kakashi's arm tapped out code in what had somehow become a familiar gesture. Don't be an idiot. Don't give up.

Kakashi leaned in, head dipping down in a gesture that was almost intimate, as if he couldn't quite stop himself. He squeezed Genma's arm once, not a code of any sort, but the message was clear, then shoved Genma lightly towards Sugimoto and stepped back. "Just go, you stupid bastard." His expression hardened as he looked past Genma to address Sugimoto. "Make sure the medics look at his head. If you screw anything up, I'll find you. Understood?"

Sugimoto nodded and smiled as if in satisfaction. "My colleague, Fujita Kenshi-san, is here and will be in touch with you within twelve hours, Hatake-san." Her hand on Genma's shoulder tightened, propelling Genma a step away from Kakashi and towards the door.

"ANBU-san's IV," the medical assistant choked. She sounded strangely young. Strangely frightened. She shuffled forward, holding out the clear plastic sack of liquid for Sugimoto to take, and for the first time Genma realized how small she was. Kumoto shot an unreadable glance at the girl and his former "patient".

Sugimoto took the packet. "I trust, Koto-san, that you will see to it Hatake-san is in much better shape for Fujita-san than the condition I found him and Shiranui-san in when I arrived."

The girl nodded. Kumoto rose to his feet and took a step towards them. Genma couldn't help himself, he flinched.

Kakashi squared his shoulders and turned a look of pure venom on Kumoto, stopping the medic in his tracks.

"Kumoto-sensei, I believe, will be handing over Hatake-san's care to Isuzu-sensei from your main hospital," said Sugimoto, still addressing the assistant. She took another step to put herself between Genma and the Iwa medic. Another step towards the door.

"You fucking well show up in Konoha and pay me back, Kakashi," Genma rasped. He felt sick. Sugimoto seemed to sense it.

"Our medics are waiting for us, Shiranui-san." Her grip tightened and one arm snaked around Genma's waist as she hauled his arm over her shoulders. He was chagrined to have to lean on her as she guided him out the door.

Kumoto followed, skirting widely around Kakashi. The assistant went last.

Kakashi watched the heavy iron door swing back into place, locks ratcheting, and waited for the echo as the second outer door followed suit. Then there was silence.

It was done. Genma was out. Konoha had gotten through.

Kakashi leaned against the cold stone wall, head tilting back, and let out the breath he'd been holding since they'd first crossed Iwa's border. Pure relief, dragged from the belly up. Halfway through, his knees went out. He let himself slide down the wall, not much caring what the cameras saw, and choked off the kind of laugh that led to nowhere but hysteria. Genma was out. It had worked.

No one to worry about but himself, now, and that hardly counted.

He exhaled again, feeling the relief like a blood-song, and slit one tired eye open. Looked at the opposite wall, where there had to be someone watching, and slashed a sharp, nasty smile. "That's one to me. Your move."

They could send Takajin back in, for all he cared. Genma was out.

As they emerged, they were met by four stone-faced Iwa shinobi. Guards. Maybe ANBU. None of them with faces Genma recognized. The guards took up positions surrounding the Leaf ninja with silent precision to escort them away. Kumoto fell back behind the tailing guards, but Genma could hear his footsteps echoing louder than any of the other shinobi, as he followed along.

The hallway was cleaner and better lit than Genma expected, with curving plastered walls forming an overhead arch. Wooden doors set into the wall at regular intervals looked identical to the one he and his escort had emerged from, with heavy brass locks and curling branches of script etched into the surface where permanent seals were set. It was a prison, but hardly a dungeon. Although when Genma thought of the cells in ANBU's first sub-basement, with their antiseptic air, he supposed it wasn't that different. Iwagakure's building looked older, more careworn, and heavier, as if this place had been hewn out of the living rock surrounding it.

Genma limped and stumbled, supported by Sugimoto. His head ached with a tracery of fire that blossomed from the wound on the back of his neck, and his vision played tricks on him, giving every doorway a double outline, and the tiled floor beneath him a vertiginous curve. Even so, he counted doors, looked for landmarks, and tallied threats. There were dozens, mostly in the form of their guards and the curious-eyed Iwa ninja they passed, some in their distinctive field uniforms but more, many more, in the menacing and elegant black that Iwa's intelligence officers wore.

"Just a little further," Sugimoto said, glancing up at Genma's wan face and slowing their pace. Kumoto walked several feet behind them. Too close to them for Genma's racing heart to slow, but at least the bastard wasn't anywhere near Kakashi. There had to be a way to get Kakashi out. Fujita Kenshi was here for Kakashi, Sugimoto had said. And we know it is about Kumoto's identity. They knew. Konoha knew. They wouldn't let someone as valuable as Kakashi come to any further harm. They wouldn't, Genma told himself.

And then, through an open door, he saw a face he did recognize. A handsome, square-jawed, heavy-browed face under a shock of stiff black hair. A face Genma knew from countless hours of video. Kakashi's torturer caught Genma's eye and smiled, offering a friendly salute.

Genma moved so fast he took even himself by surprise. He tore free from Sugimoto's grip and hurled himself towards that open door, exploding past the startled guards and already six seals in to the sequence for the strongest killing jutsu he knew. A tidal wave of his own chakra surged through him, snapping wild like a wet sheet in a gale, and then the Iwa ninja were on him, pinning back both arms and dragging him away in a choke-hold.

The torturer came to the door, smiled again, and shut it.

Sugimoto stepped in front of Genma. "Shiranui," she said. Just his name, but with all the force of an order.

The choke hold was released, but both his arms were pinned. Genma tried a kick, and found no strength in his legs. The Iwa ninja on either side of him held him up as much as they held him restrained, and as he watched, a red-grey haze descended in front of Sugimoto's face. He half-retched. "We need a stretcher," he heard Sugimoto say. She sounded like she was in a well. "Shiranui, focus." Cold hands on his face. A burst of chakra to a pressure point, and there were Sugimoto's brown eyes boring a look straight into him. He blinked and gagged again, and let her knock him out.

The elation faded eventually, curling up in the back of Kakashi's ribcage like a warm secret he could grab hold of, when he needed to. It was replaced by boredom. A lot of boredom.

It was a nasty secret, known by most war veterans, that boredom could be even worse than torture. You knew where you stood with torture, even if that was upside down with your head in a water barrel. Torture kept your attention engaged. Boredom was just... draining.

He stripped the new bandage off his right hand, bracing himself for another seal, and blinked when he found the wound scrubbed and ointment-painted, but otherwise untouched. No ink. And as unpleasant as it was to realize the medic had been able to do all that without waking him, that tended hand was a good sign. Somewhere, serious diplomacy was happening.

Kakashi re-wrapped the bandages and got to his feet again. Scouted the cell for changes.

The first missing thing he noticed was Genma's tea set. Someone, probably the assistant, had also taken the empty water bottles, the dirty plates, and the used med kit. The lamp was still there, along with the cards, which had been tidied back into a neat deck. There was also a new med-kit, bigger looking then the last one, a stack of ration bars, a few more bottles of water, and a roll of toilet paper. There was even a fresh toothbrush and tube of toothpaste.

Kakashi raised his eyebrows.

"You forgot the kitchen sink," he said, just to hear a voice, and almost punched himself in the head. Talking to Iwa was not a habit he needed to cultivate.

Twelve hours until Fujita, Sugimoto had promised, which was more than enough time for Genma to be well on his way home, and for Kakashi to go entirely stir-crazy. He gave himself a rough little shake, feeling every dark-bruised ache ripple through exhausted muscles, and knew the best course of action was just to wear himself out more. Until he couldn't worry.

Water first, then a ration bar and bathroom break. Then painkillers, if there were any in that kit, and he could damn well brush his teeth. Then he needed to warm up, limber up, and do whatever exercises his body could manage until he fell over.

Sufficiently armed with a plan, Kakashi wrapped a tight mental fist around that one warm thought, and set to work.

Sugimoto's voice calling his name was the last thing Genma heard before he lost consciousness. Hours later it was the first thing he heard again when he woke. He startled into a shiver and found himself on his back on the ground, lashed to a stretcher with broad belts crossed over his legs and chest. It was hauntingly familiar, but the afternoon light dappling among the trees was tinted orange and gold as it passed through autumn leaves, not gray with late spring sleet.

"Shiranui-san, wake up. You're safe." Sugimoto's voice, still unflappably calm, but warmer now where before it had been commanding. He opened his eyes to see her looking down at him, to feel her hand on his shoulder.

"What... Where?"

"Fire Country," she told him. "We just crossed the border. I'm sorry to wake you, but you appeared to be dreaming."

Had he been dreaming? Nothing that he remembered. But if it was the sort of dream a handler would wake you from, it couldn't have been good.

"We've stopped for a rest."

"Pardon me, Miho-san," said an older man wearing glasses and the white hood of a Konoha medic. "Genma-san." Quick, cold fingers took Genma's pulse, probed at his chakra, swiped across his brow. "How are you feeling? Do you need to urinate?"

Genma stared in confusion at the medic. What kind of weird question was... But the suggestion took. "Uh... yeah."

"Good."

"Can I get up?"

The medic unfastened the belts and helped Genma into a sitting position. "Excuse us a moment, Miho-san." Sugimoto turned her back, and the medic handed Genma a plastic vial.

"You're kidding me," Genma said, staring at the thing.

"You're on IV chakra support," the medic said. "We need to keep tabs on volumes in and out." He didn't wait for Genma's acknowledgment, and didn't turn away to give Genma any privacy, either. "How's your head?"

"It hurts." He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the sunlight. Everything hurt. Every muscle, every joint. He felt so wretched it was all he could do to just keep himself sitting upright. When he got around to it, even pissing hurt. While Genma took care of necessity, the medic fussed with the IV. Sugimoto stayed five paces away, talking to a red-haired woman taller than herself and wearing an ANBU field uniform.

The headache eased when the medic set green-glowing hands to Genma's forehead and the back of his neck. Genma's apathy went with it. He handed over the filled vial and tried to stand. "We're going back for Kakashi," he grated, but only got as far as his knees before balance and strength failed him. The medic seemed to be expecting it, and caught Genma with practiced ease.

Sugimoto and her companion turned towards him in synchrony. "We are going back to Konoha where you can get the medical care you need," Sugimoto said. Another ANBU materialized from the shadows, but kept his distance. "Representatives from Konoha are already negotiating for Hatake-san's release."

The masked woman cocked her head to one side. Genma almost recognized her, but couldn't pull up a name. She wasn't Eros, and there weren't that many women Hunters...

"This is Aki-san. If you're well enough for a conversation, we need to discuss what happened on your and Hatake-san's mission, starting with any details that may be pertinent to the negotiations now underway."

Understanding washed over Genma like a wave of nausea. Debriefing. Now. Before they got back to Konoha.

"You have to get him out of there." Genma's voice ground into ash in his throat. He recognized the red-haired woman now. She worked for Shida.

Working out lasted longer then Kakashi expected, but not as long as he wanted. Halfway through the sixth set of push ups, after the kata practice and the brief but unwise attempt at balancing on his hands, his shaking arms gave out and his face narrowly missed an intimate meeting with the stone floor.

He lay and panted and felt his heart trip-hammer, and didn't try to get up again. Too much chakra-exhaustion, not enough red meat; it'd be a bitch to get back into shape when he got home.

He was very specific about thinking when.

Sleep happened like a landslide, the exact same kind of almost-unconscious that had gotten him through the medic's ministrations without a twitch. He dreamed, mostly about suffocating and Genma. Time passed.

Awareness came back after the sun had gone down, when the door clanged, the lamp flared, and a hand closed around his t-shirt-covered shoulder. Kakashi reached out, without any kind of brain-input, and wrapped his fingers tightly around someone's throat, hard enough to crush the larynx.

Or would have, if the man hadn't put his wrist in the way.

"Ow! Hey, ow! Bloody hell." Fingers pinched Kakashi's ear in something that felt remarkably like a suicide attempt. "Wake up! I'm on your side."

The second blow was much more thought-through; Kakashi lashed out with the hand he'd been lying on, which had gone numb, and may or may not have connected with something like a nose. Then he opened his uncovered eye. The view was a little distorted and sepia-toned, what with the angle and the lamplight, but seemed to be mostly filled by a handsome, black-haired man holding onto Kakashi's fist, looking slightly cross-eyed, tired, and annoyed. Kakashi's other hand was still clenched tightly around the man's wrist.

They regarded each other for a long, strange moment.

"If you're not Fujita," Kakashi rasped, "I'm going to feed you your own hands."

The man sighed. "See, that is exactly why I can't get a medic in here when you're asleep. Yes, I'm Fujita. And you are a political disaster. Let go of my wrist."

Kakashi blinked once, trying to clear his head. "Say 'please'."

"How about I say screw you sideways, and we get down to business?" Fujita twisted both hands neatly, straight into the axis of Kakashi's grip, and broke free. Jounin-slick. Then he fisted a hand in Kakashi's shirt and helped yank him upright. "How're you feeling, Hatake-san?"

"Super," said Kakashi dryly, all rasp. He leaned back against the wall, letting it support his aching skull. "You?"

"Like I've just spent twenty-eight hours trying to negotiate the release of a man with a deathwish. Was it specifically Iwa you wanted to piss off, or were they just convenient?" Fujita sat seiza, back beautifully straight, hands on his knees. He smelled like steel will and, oddly, lemons. "Seriously. I'm curious."

Kakashi offered him a smile that felt exhaustion-drunk. "Flash," he said.

Fujita whacked himself on the forehead. "Right, sorry. Thunder."

Two of the oldest code-words, completely unusable now that Iwa had them on tape, but Kakashi couldn't think of anything better. They were good enough; Fujita smelled honest.

"I felt like a challenge," Kakashi said, which wasn't exactly true, but humour was the first thing you looked for in an unbroken agent. Humour, bravado, the crying-need to go home. "Let me guess: I don't have an invite."

"Not yet." Fujita's voice gentled a little, as if he expected Kakashi to go to pieces right there on the floor. "I'm working on it. Anything you need?"

Kakashi thought about it. "I could use a shower."

Fujita grimaced, expression as open as a sunrise. That was a nice trick, wearing emotions that plainly; made him seem trustworthy. "Sorry, but there's no way we're getting you out of here yet, even with an armed guard."

Kakashi didn't sigh. "Figures. Food, then. Something real, with meat in it." He reached out and caught Fujita's wrist again, watching the little jerk as Fujita controlled his first reflex. Definitely a jounin. Kakashi's fingers slid around to the underside of his arm, where they were less easy to see, and tapped a quick, urgent message. Genma out okay?

Fujita nodded infinitesimally.

Still healthy?

Two fingers flicked against Kakashi's knee. Good enough.

There was no lie in Fujita's scent. Kakashi relaxed back against the wall, feeling himself go boneless. He tapped one last message. My chances?

Fujita watched him steadily, eyes dark in the shadows. He was younger than Sugimoto, maybe in his mid-thirties, and definitely handsome. All knife-blade cheekbones and white teeth. They were probably an advantage in his line of work. "I'll get you that food," he said. "And a book to go with it. Keep your head down, Hatake-san. Make my job easier. And don't bite the next medic who comes in."

Kakashi flipped him a silent, two-fingered salute. "Cross my heart," he murmured.

Fujita clapped him once on the shoulder. "Good. Nice haircut, by the way."

Kakashi snorted. "Screw you," he said, and got a flashing, white-toothed smile as Fujita let himself out the clanging iron door.

The redhead took off her mask, revealing dark, unreadable eyes that didn't go with her coloring, but would as soon as a pulse of chakra turned them crimson. Uchiha Aki, Shida's prodigy. A rising star in the unsavory world of torture and interrogation. She waited until Genma was seated before folding long legs up under herself and settling across from him. Sugimoto chose the nine-o-clock point, between Genma and Aki, and the medic, whose name Genma still hadn't learned, pushed a wad of blankets up between Genma's back and the tree behind him, giving him something to lean against. When Genma glanced up, he saw the IV bag hung from a senbon driven into the same tree's bark.

"As soon as you start to tire, Genma-san, lie down," the medic said.

It was interesting that they didn't tell him to lie down to start. Were they trying to give him some illusion of control? Because as far as Genma was concerned, he was already exhausted to the point of shaking.

Even with Aki's Sharingan eyes quiescent, Genma felt like she was looking through him. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked. "This... the whole thing..."

"We know about the events that led to Hatake-san's decision to approach Iwagakure for help under the new treaty," Aki said. "What I need to know is, how well did they hold to that treaty? By the looks of you, I'd say not very." She lit a cigarette, and when she saw Genma's eyes on it, passed it to him and lit a second for herself.

Genma let the tobacco shroud him, felt his thoughts blurring on the vibrating edge of the nicotine.

"I've already briefed Aki-san on what I observed when I was allowed into your cell," Sugimoto said. "And Mikawa-sensei was given an abbreviated chart that purported to detail the treatment Iwagakure's medics gave you, Shiranui-san."

"You don't trust it, Miho?" Aki inhaled slowly, but huffed the smoke out with a disdainful snort. "Neither do I, obviously." She waited another beat. "Shiranui-san..." She paused, then started again. "Genma-san. I'm not going to waste your time pretending this is nicer than it is. I've been fully briefed on your history with Iwagakure. Were you interrogated?"

"Yes. But..." Smoke was hardly any protection, and Genma realized with a shudder that he was still wearing the thin khaki prison clothes Iwa had provided.

"But?" Aki prompted.

"They tried to break us both, but they tried a lot harder with Kakashi." Was that the truth? A lie? Had they really been trying to break Genma at all? There had been long isolation and confinement, painful medical procedures, experimentation by Kumoto and the assistant on Genma's hands. That threat to break his toes (Just like before. Exactly like before, but this time Kumoto was supervising the breaking as well as the repairing) aborted by Genma's self-induced seizure.

But precious few questions.

"They drugged him." Genma's voice fell into the dull monotone of all survivors of catastrophe. "Isolated him. I assume they deprived him of sleep and food. Made the room too hot for him, I think. He was sweating. I know Ku—" He choked on a raw acid surge in the back of his throat. "Kumoto. Their medic. He put an IV in and bandaged Kakashi's wounds at one point. From the fight before. The interrogator never really touched Kakashi, except when he shaved his hair."

"You observed all this?" Aki cut in.

"Video feed. They... Made me watch a video feed. Hours. Days. I don't even know. It was looped and edited, so I couldn't tell how much time had passed. The bastard torturing him shaved his head, but never hit him. Blew smoke in his face, though. Made Kakashi cough. Kakashi had inhaled that solo-T before..." He broke off abruptly and looked sharply at Aki. "Don't smoke around Kakashi. Don't..." His own cigarette tasted suddenly foul, and he ground it out.

Aki nodded and put her cigarette out, too.

Genma's next words came more haltingly, low enough that Sugimoto and Aki both leaned closer to hear. "They told Kakashi I was dead. Told him he'd killed me, they'd killed me. Told him I was dead and it was his fault. And they drugged him and wore him down with genjutsu and psychology. Genjutsu and drugs. I couldn't see what the genjutsu was, but..." Kakashi's haunted, terrorized face after the torturer snapped the illusion was almost easier to see than the elegant Uchiha woman in front of him. The dark of the cell on that video screen more present than the warm autumn sunlight around them. Genma hunched over his knees, shaking and sweating despite the chill in the air.

"Kakashi finally started talking. But he didn't tell them anything. Told 'em a lot of nonsense. Babbled and babbled at them until they stopped... Someone stopped it. Someone cut off the feed, so I don't know. But I know Kakashi didn't break." He looked Sugimoto in the eye, then Aki. "Kakashi didn't break. He told them a thousand and one lies, but he never told them a single thing that was true."

Aki exchanged a long look with Sugimoto.

"Listen to me!" Genma rasped.

"We believe you, Shiranui-san," Sugimoto said quietly. "We just need to know the details so that we can secure Hatake-san's release."

Genma let out an exhausted breath and slumped back against the blanket.

Aki only let him rest for a moment. "And you, Genma-san? How were you interrogated?"

Tension fused Genma's spine into an icy rod. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I... I don't know what they were doing. They mostly made me watch. Only... They only asked me how I got away from them before. They were really interested in... That. In..." He could feel Sugimoto's and Aki's eyes flick to his swollen fingers. "And they wanted to know how Ito-sensei... They knew about Ito-sensei." His hands twisted into the fabric of the too-big shirt, aching knots of scar. He swallowed and felt a sticky block forming in his throat. "Can I have some water?"

Sugimoto uncapped a water bottle and held it out to him, and he managed three long swallows before he dropped the bottle and gagged back up the last mouthful over his knees. The medic, who hadn't gone far, came back in a hurry. "I think, Genma-san, you will feel better if you lie down," he said gently. Far too gently.

The lamp guttered out in the early hours of the morning, plunging the cell into darkness. Halfway to dozing, Kakashi blinked wide awake and caught his breath. Then released it slowly. He'd been expecting this.

He wasn't afraid of the damn dark.

The blanket rustled as he rolled onto his back, arms folded beneath his head, and stared blindly at the ceiling. There was nothing to see. Nothing to do, either, unless he started running sit up drills again. Regular shinobi were coached to use quiet moments like this to organize their thoughts; review everything they'd learned, consider the weaknesses of their enemy, but for most ANBU that was such a ground-in habit it never actually stopped. And with Kakashi's memory, trying to recall pertinent details wasn't exactly a hardship.

He sighed, concentrating on the feel of air flowing over his lips and through the mask. Closed his eyes, for all the difference it made, and inhaled. Exhaled. Cut his mind loose to sleep, reaching for peacefulness and patience. Inhaled.

Tasted smoke.

If a civilian had tried to move so fast, he would have wrenched something. Kakashi had his feet on the floor and his back away from the door before he had time to breathe; before he had time to remember what'd happened the last time he'd gone through this, when his own mind had taken up the slack in Takajin's absense.

A tiny orange light gleamed by the door, illuminating the hand that held it. The face behind it.

"Mornin', champ. Sleep well?"

Kakashi's skin crawled, like it wanted to be inside itself. He bared hidden teeth. "Takajin. I'm touched. Did you miss me?"

"Oh, every minute. I hear you've been calling my name out in your sleep. Didn't realize you were sweet, Hatake."

"Yeah, well--" Kakashi began, but no snappy come back presented itself. He'd talked in his sleep? Maybe, but unlikely. He snorted, shook the thought off. "Here to play headgames, or is there something specific you're after?"

He could see a little more, now. The half-open door (why hadn't he heard it clang?). The way Takajin was lounging against the frame, all tall, casual grace and broad shoulders. The cigarette flared, filling the cell with the stink of burning tar. Kakashi's stomach tightened.

"Just thought I'd drop in," Takajin said. "See how you were coping without your friend, have a chat--"

"Break the treaty?" Kakashi suggested.

"Who, me?" Teeth flashed in the dark. "Wouldn't dream of it. We're all about compromise now. Doing our best to work out these difficult circumstances, what with you being such a complicated prisoner. Political, y'know. Did you really have to sprain Kumoto's poor thumbs?"

"Seemed like the thing to do."

Takajin chuckled, head tilting back to rest against the door frame, and Kakashi realized the torturer looked unsettlingly like Fujita. Both black-haired, good looking, lethal. That was not an association he wanted to make.

"Do you really think you're getting home?" Takajin asked suddenly. He blew out a thin stream of smoke. "I mean, really. After everything you did in the war?"

Faux-casual, Kakashi shrugged a shoulder. "I wasn't the only player. People died on both sides."

"True, but you killed a council member's son." Takajin's smile was darker now, framed in the glow of his cigarette. "Well, Akio wasn't on the council then, but you can bet he still remembers. He's lobbying for your execution. Death by the sword -- very dramatic."

"Your mind games are interesting," Kakashi said blandly. "Do you have a news letter?"

"Funny," Takajin drawled. He exhaled a last ribbon of smoke, stubbed the tiny light out on the wall, and -- shimmered. Then vanished.

Kakashi tensed.

"You're good at that, aren't you?" said Takajin, right behind his neck. "Being funny. It's a bit cliche as a defence, but you have to go with what works, I guess."

Kakashi whipped around, hands flying up -- and came face to face with empty air.

"Ah, slow," chided Takajin. His breath stroked warm over the back of Kakashi's neck. "Getting out of shape?"

When Kakashi spun again, there was still nothing there. He dodged away before Takajin could loop behind him again, and shoved his back into one of the far corners. The main door still hung half-open, like a singing temptation, but Kakashi wasn't stupid enough to bite. There were still cameras, and guards outside, and Fujita upstairs trying to broker a deal. If Kakashi cut and ran, he'd hate to think what they'd do to the diplomat.

"Is Iwa tired of the treaty?" he inquired mildly, voice steady. "Konoha's strong enough for another war, if that's what you're trying to start. I'm sure your councillors wouldn't mind losing more sons."

The cell was silent. Kakashi listened to the hammer-beat of his own heart.

Then Takajin was right in front of his face.

"I'd love to fight you in the field," the man breathed, barely more than a shadow in the darkened cell. He cupped Kakashi's face between his hands, like he didn't care that Kakashi had the perfect angle to snap his neck, and pressed his mouth against Kakashi's forehead, pushing Kakashi's hitai-ate up to touch bare skin.

Kakashi froze.

"Maybe another time," Takajin promised, and chucked Kakashi under the chin. Then he was gone.

Just — gone.

The cell was empty, the door was closed (it still hadn't clanged), and Kakashi could stop feeling like he was about to have a cardiac event any second now. He leaned his shoulders back against the solid stone wall, catching his breath. His skin felt cold.

He scrubbed one hand violently over his forehead, yanking his hitai-ate back down. Stayed where he was, and absolutely didn't wish that Genma was here. If there was any justice at all, Genma was home by now, warm in a hospital bed. Fast asleep and not thinking about Kakashi at all.

There were still cameras in the walls. Kakashi got a grip on himself and looked in their vague direction.

"Good move," he muttered.

Genma's field debriefing took longer than any of them would have liked, but between Sugimoto's calm control, Aki's skilled questioning aided by her Uchiha birthright, the medic's judicious use of painkillers and a mild sedative, and Genma's war-forged inner-resolve, they got through it. Genma was flat on his back on the stretcher again by the end of it, with the medic delicately probing his hands, like an explosives tech defusing a bomb. Genma watched for a moment, felt his stomach turn, and shut his eyes.

"Is that enough detail?" he croaked.

"It's good," Aki assured him.

"They've violated at least seven specific articles of the treaty, just based on what you told us," said Sugimoto.

Aki's palm flattened over Genma's thigh. "I can use that," she said with a feral smile when Genma opened his eyes.

"Good." The sun was at the horizon now, casting long purple shadows and glinting in brilliant orange flares from Aki's already fiery hair. Her eyes were deep, liquid black again, the startling Sharingan crimson hidden. "Get him out of there, and don't be a bastard about his eye," Genma told her.

"Don't worry about that," Aki said, her smile softening a little. "Not everyone from my clan has the same short-sighted view on that whole situation."

Genma studied her, and wished for a moment he had Kakashi's nose, to smell a lie.

Sugimoto seemed to sense his doubt. "Sandaime-sama and Arakaki-san hand-selected the entire extraction team, Genma-san. Have a little faith."

Genma licked dry lips and took a breath. "Good. Go get him out, then. That interrogator—"

"Takajin," Aki told him. "We know him. And we know about Kumoto. Trust me, if the opportunity comes..." She left the threat unspecified.

Genma just nodded and shut his eyes again. Good. Have a little faith. He could have a little faith.

Aki left them, then, with the other ANBU, and headed into Stone Country. Sugimoto stayed true to her mission, escorting Genma all the way back to Konoha. They stopped once, to sleep and eat, and when Genma was awake, they talked. It wasn't a debriefing anymore, exactly, but she steered the conversation deftly into and back out of dangerous waters, listening with the attentive air that said she had years of psych training at her back.

A fresh team of medics was waiting at Konoha's hospital, including a face Genma wasn't sure he was happy to see.

"I hear you still haven't figured out how to stay out of trouble," Ito-sensei told Genma.

"Sorry, Sensei."

"Don't apologize, Genma-kun. Although next time you get the urge to teach a class in field medicine, maybe start with something a little more basic than a chakra sieve, and don't use yourself as the case study."

"Sorr—"

"Didn't I just tell you not to apologize? I see what your problem is: 'Can't follow simple instructions.'" Ito's hand touched down gently on Genma's shoulder. "Let the nurses get you cleaned up, and then I'll come have a look. It sounds like you don't actually need my expertise so much this time, but I know a chakra specialist or two who're itching to get their hands on you."

It was astonishing how similar being a prisoner and being a patient really were, Genma thought. And surprising how Ito hadn't yet mentioned anything about Genma's captivity.

Ito turned to go.

"Kumoto was there," Genma said, stopping the doctor in his tracks.

"I know."

"He—"

"I know. I'll come right back, Genma-kun. You can tell me then."

"Did they get Kakashi out yet?"

Ito's shoulders stiffened for a moment. When he answered, his voice was low. "I don't know. But they will."

"They better," Genma said, and surrendered to the nurses.

Kakashi didn't see Fujita for three days. At least, he thought it was three days, judging by the light changes, but he could feel himself starting to lose track. Time slipped past oddly, in fits and starts, stretching out and snapping back...

The not-sleeping probably wasn't helping.

He'd tried; he wasn't stupid. But every time it went dark, Takajin showed up with his smoke and his subtle threats. With his eerie jutsu that deadened sound and let him be wherever he wanted, all handsome smiles and intimate touches. And when Kakashi tried sleeping in the day there was always someone crashing in to see if he needed food, or painkillers, or extra blankets -- something.

It wasn't subtle, but it was effective. After three days, he felt nauseous every time the lock ratcheted.

He was so sick of this room.

When he wasn't dealing with anonymous guards, over-curious medics, or bright-eyed interrogators, he kept himself distracted. Sane. He exercised, played solitaire, ate and drank on something like a schedule, cat-napped when he could. It was alternatively boring, frustrating, and terrifying.

Which -- pretty much summed up the life of a ninja.

On the fourth day, no one came to see him. Somewhere around midnight, Kakashi fell asleep with his back braced against the far corner, wrists resting on his knees, and woke up when Takajin clamped a hard-calloused hand across his mouth.

It was very much like a dream, except real and horrible.

Kakashi jolted back, cracking his head against stone (which hurt a lot more with short-cut hair and stitches in his scalp), and punched Takajin in the face. He felt the crack of a breaking cheekbone beneath his fist-- felt one of his own knuckles dislocate, because he hadn't shaped his hand properly and if Minato had still been alive Kakashi would have never heard the end of it -- and watched with something like exhausted horror when Takajin smiled at him.

Because it was a genjutsu. The whole image fractured apart, like a picture shattering, and came together again with Takajin's hand still over Kakashi's mouth, the wall still at Kakashi's back, and both of Kakashi's wrists pinned together in Takajin's free hand.

"Hey, slugger," Takajin said, with a friendly smile. "You look tired."

There was chakra in the bigger man's grip; his hold was like steel. Kakashi's reply was a snarl muffled by mask and flesh, and a vicious kick to Takajin's knee.

Takajin blocked it with a motion that was all casual. "Hey, hey, that's not nice--"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding." The new voice was feminine, arctic, and unfamiliar.

"No, I think this is exactly what it looks like." The second voice was Fujita.

Takajin startled, twisting to look over his shoulder -- and made a beautifully strangled sound when a red-nailed hand closed around his throat from behind, tightened, and hauled him away. He went up to his feet with an ungraceful lurch, releasing Kakashi, and turned on his assailant.

Who slammed him into the wall.

It was a tall, muscular woman with hair like flame. She was dressed in nothing but black ANBU underpinnings; on her right arm, the scarlet tattoo looked dark and old. At her shoulder, Fujita gave Takajin a shark-like smile.

"This?" he said. "So not smart."

Takajin growled, then choked silent when the red-headed woman tightened her grip. Fujita sniffed, turned away with a little flourish that dismissed Takajin from the entire universe, and crouched down in front of Kakashi.

"Hi," he said, sounding an odd mix of cheerful and gentle. "Sorry about the wait -- we had a little trouble. That's Aki; she works for Shida. Can you breathe?"

"Yes," Kakashi croaked. "Hi. What?"

Fujita smiled, and, moving carefully, slid a hand under Kakashi's elbow. "You have an invite from the Hokage, Kakashi. He'd very much like to have dinner with you. Would you like to go home?"

Kakahi stared, first at Fujita, then at Takajin -- still crushed against the wall, choking quietly -- then at Aki with her eyes that gleamed dark crimson in the shadowed cell, before finally looking back at Fujita.

He closed his eye. "If you're a genjutsu, that's just mean."

Fujita didn't laugh. He hooked the fingers of his free hand under Kakashi's hitai-ate, slipping the band up enough to bare Obito's eye, and dropped his hand. "Have a look. The seals are turned off; you can use your chakra again."

The Sharingan stung like hell when he opened it, but the image it showed matched his normal vision, painted in chakra colours. Three complicated bodies, an open cell door, and walls filled with deactivated jutsu. Outside the cell, a cluster of guards and well-dressed men -- politicians, probably -- looked nervous.

Kakashi closed both eyes, ignoring the hot wash of tears down the left side of his face, and pulled his hitai-ate back into place. Exhaled. Then he laughed, quiet and cracked through and drenched in something too deep to be relief.

"Yeah," he rasped. "I'd like to go home."

Fujita patted him on the shoulder. "Good. Can you stand?"

"Of course he can," said Aki. She twisted her wrist in a way that forced Takajin down to his knees. "Can he kill is a much better question."

"Ah--" said one of the politicians by the door. He was blocked by the shoulder of a tall man in ANBU armour. "I thought we'd agreed--"

"You don't talk," Aki said, in a voice that clanged like iron. "Well, Hatake?"

With Fujita's help, Kakashi hauled himself to his feet. He staggered, exhausted down to a cellular level, but kept his balance. Everything ached. He felt like he could float away.

Takajin's face was set and stony when Kakashi looked down at him. Dark-eyed. He still looked handsome, even with Aki's hand wrapped hard around his throat and the throttled flush riding high on his cheekbones.

This was the man who'd tortured Kakashi without putting a mark on him. Who'd drugged him, played around inside his head, made him believe he'd killed Genma, twisted his dreams, given him nightmare fodder for the rest of his life--

Done his job. Just like Kakashi did his job.

"Hatake?" said Aki, managing to sound patient and pointed all at once. "You want his blood or not?"

This was the part where civilians and politicians wanted you to be noble, Kakashi thought. To make a grand forgiving gesture that left you with a breathing enemy and no kind of revenge.

"I hate to be the voice of reason," Fujita murmured in his ear. "But if you kill him, we lose every edge this little infraction has given us."

There was also that.

Coldly, Kakashi weighed duty against his personal feelings, and chose like he always did.

Then he called a boiling fistful of raw chakra into his palm, unformed and unshaped, like a messy chidori without the birdsong, and clapped his hand over Takajin's right eye. Flesh sizzled and burned under his touch. Takajin screamed, shocked loud, then bit it off with a deep groan. Kakashi felt the eyeball burst and melt away.

He withdrew his hand. Strips of skin came with it. Takajin bucked in Aki's grip, then froze when she cut off his air entirely. After a moment of stillness, she let him breathe again.

"Nice," she said.

Kakashi shook his hand, felt his balance go, and wound up braced against Fujita's shoulder. The diplomat's face was entirely expressionless. Kakashi drew a dizzy breath.

"Iwa's owed me an eye for years," he told Takajin.

The torturer exhaled shakily. Then looked up and smiled through the ruins of his face, exactly like he had in his genjutsu. "See you around, Hatake."

Kakashi just nodded, leaned harder against Fujita, and let the silent diplomat drag him out of the cell.