Stopped him just to make him leave. That had to be the definition of ironic. If he'd had the energy, Kakashi might have put his head in his hands. He hadn't meant to do that.

He hadn't meant to do a lot of things. It was funny, lately, how rarely intention and action seemed to meet the same goal.

It's going to utter hell, and you can see it going to utter hell...

But Ginta's hell just held two men in a hospital bed--two men and an Inuzuka, but Tsume didn't seem worth the mention--and a heart that had bruised before it'd ever gotten close enough to break. You and him. I didn't think I'd care. But that healed.

Kakashi's hell was here, sitting with his back to a bed where the pieces of a man lay. But even this could heal. Would heal, if he managed to get Ginta home. If he stopped thinking about Tsuyako's neck twisting under his hands.

He looked at Ginta, at blue eyes that wouldn't quite meet his own. The clone sat quietly, now, ignored.

"So what do you want?"