Title: Former Lives
Author: JBMcDragon
Status: Complete, 9 parts
Rating: R for violence and language

Summary: The sequel to The Kakashi Mission. Things are not perfect in any relationship, but even Kakashi knows something really isn't right in theirs. When Iruka tries to poison Naruto, he begins to think something isn't right, period.

Prologue and chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7




Chapter Eight
Now

Ibiki felt the breeze before he sensed the chakra. He grabbed for a kunai, and suspected it might be too late.

Whipping out of bed in a tangle of blankets and sheets, he snapped them up as a shield--

And saw Kakashi perched in the window.

Cloth floated down between them, settling on the futon.

"Can I help you?" Ibiki asked, as coolly and calmly as if he weren't standing in his scars and underwear.

Kakashi smiled. The mask shifted, the eye arced up. Kakashi, Ibiki knew, was always the most dangerous when he was smiling. "What jutsu did you use on Iruka? When you thought he'd tried to kill Naruto?"

Ibiki moved to the nightstand, his left knee stiff. It always got stiff on cold nights, now. He hadn't been happy when he'd been demoted to Special Jounin because of it. "That's confidential, Kakashi."

Chakra whispered, and the Copy Ninja was leaning against his nightstand, hands in his pockets. "He remembers," Kakashi said softly. "He remembers everything, and at this rate--"

A mask was nothing against years of interrogation. The fear was palpable to Ibiki.

"Tell me what you did," the Copy Ninja said quietly.

He picked up his pants, laid over the back of his desk chair, and stepped into them. "You don't have that authori--" He would have continued.

Kakashi was smiling. A senbon touched gently against Ibiki's throat, caressing the jugular. "Tell me," the Jounin murmured.

Ibiki looked up at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of his ANBU guards in the window. "You're making a mistake," he said softly.

"You may have driven him insane. And I *told* you--"

Ibiki knew that Kakashi walked a razor edge. He had access to the Red Files, knew every Jounin and Special Jounin and ANBU on there by heart, knew most of the Chuunin as well.

Tsunade had been on it, briefly, years ago.

Ibiki was always on there. It amused him.

Kakashi had been on the Red Files since sixteen, moving steadily closer to the top of the list. Moving steadily closer to insanity.

Then Iruka had stepped in, and the Jounin had stabilized.

Idly, Ibiki wondered if dying would hurt, and if Iruka pulled through, would he be annoyed at Kakashi for a stupid murder that ended in the Copy Ninja's death anyway? "We'll re-set it," he said slowly.

Something flared in the other Jounin's eyes. "You're not screwing with his mind just for your research."

Ibiki sighed and continued to pull his pants on, pushing the senbon away with his disinterest. "You're being a fool. Look at this logically; if you kill me, you die. Iruka has to cope alone." He looked up. "Do you want that?"

He saw the moment of hesitation. Ibiki turned away, purposefully exposing his back just to see what Kakashi would do.

The sound of steel sliding into a holster reached him. He smiled to himself and didn't look around. "Iruka went through an interrogation jutsu," Ibiki said. "It was the worst thing I could find for someone who'd tried to kill a fellow ninja." He picked up his hitai-ate and stared at his warped reflection in the metal. "Cold things, hot things, small spaces, fires, scalpels--they'll all affect him for a time. If he makes it through the night, sanity intact, and he's half the ninja he should be, he'll recover." Ibiki put his hitai-ate back down. "I suggest you head home. Any longer here, and my guard will get worried." He smiled, a baring of teeth.

When he turned, Kakashi was gone.

**

He should have killed Ibiki when he had the chance.

He raced back toward Iruka's apartment, ignoring the ANBU guard that watched him go.

He should have driven a kunai straight through the space where Ibiki's heart *should* have been. Some day, some day soon, the man was going to kill someone or hurt someone he shouldn't have. Then, Kakashi promised himself, he'd be the one to take the Special Jounin down.

Now, he had to get back to Iruka.

He slipped quietly into the bedroom window, leaving his sandals on the sill.

Iruka still lay on the bed.

The room smelled like sweat.

Kakashi padded to the futon and looked down, single eye assessing the sleeping figure. The drug should have knocked Iruka out entirely; should have kept him from dreaming.

But his eyelids twitched, and his fingers jerked. His throat worked as if he were trying to speak, lips parting slightly.

Kakashi sat on the edge of the bed, feeling useless and helpless. He didn't know how to nurse someone through dreams. When he'd lived with the Fourth, he'd occasionally been woken from a dream, but he'd always wanted to be left alone. Embarrassed, humiliated at the weakness in his mind that let the nightmares overcome him during sleep.

Now that it was someone else, he didn't know what to do.

He placed a gloved hand on Iruka's bare shoulder, shaking slightly. "Iruka," he murmured, knowing the Chuunin wouldn't wake, that the drug was too strong. But maybe, maybe, he could get him out of the dream.

Iruka flinched, eyelids tightening. One arm flailed, striking harmlessly against Kakashi's vest. The hand moved, feeling the rough cloth, finding the soft black of his shirt and tangling there.

Kakashi untangled tan fingers slowly, but when Iruka wouldn't let go of his hand he simply linked their fingers together. One-handed, he stripped out of his vest--breaking the hold for a moment to free his arm--and shed as many weapons as he could reach.

Iruka was still twitching. Sounds were forced out of his throat, tiny noises that had no meaning except fear.

Kakashi crouched by the futon, fingers still twisted up with Iruka's. "It's all right," he said softly, brushing sweat-plastered hair off a sleeping face. "It's all right. It's just a dream."

He didn't think Iruka heard him.

He wished that he'd killed Ibiki after all.

He wasn't helping, either. Iruka flinched, whole body tightening. Kakashi couldn't stop thinking about fire and scalpels and--

He didn't want to know what Iruka dreamed of. He didn't know what to do, or how to make it better. So he just knelt by the bed, talking in an attempt to break through the dream, watching his lover twitch and gasp. Tears spilled from under closed lids.

Kakashi knelt until his knees were sore, until a chill settled in his bones from the still-open window. He didn't dare move; moving meant letting go of Iruka, and Iruka was still clinging painfully to his hand.

He knelt while fog wandered through the village, coating everything in dew. He knelt while the morning hours brought the glow of a sunrise. He knelt while the air grew humid and damp. He knelt until the fog burned off.

And Iruka finally woke.

He stared at Kakashi out of unfocused eyes, blinking slowly, almost painfully.

"Hi," Kakashi said softly.

Iruka flinched and whimpered, pulling away--while still holding on. "No--hurts--" the Chuunin began, and Kakashi realized he was still half delirious. The drug wouldn't wear off for hours, yet, but between the nightmares and the light Iruka was awake. His mind was fighting, believing itself to be in danger.

That had to be it. Not that his mind was broken after a day and a night of terror. It was the drug, and that was all.

He watched Iruka fumble, saw his hand slide under the other pillow and come out holding a steel blade.

Kakashi felt intense relief as he blocked the strike easily, yanking the kunai out of Iruka's hand and grabbing him. He sat on the bed and pulled Iruka up and across his chest, holding both arms to make sure nothing like that would happen again. Fighting, he knew how to do. Restricting movement, that was easy. So much easier than watching Iruka struggle with nightmares and knowing he couldn't do anything.

Iruka twisted with an awkward kick, shouting, "Stop--don't burn--"

Kakashi tried not to hear anything else, and pinned Iruka's legs between his own. The muscular body struggled against him, yelling about fire and metal and he had to run before they caught him again--

Kakashi kept holding on, ignoring elbows jamming into his stomach and knees making bruises on his legs. He wasn't as successful in ignoring the pleading tears that turned to screams.

He considered the bathtub, and wondered if cold water would help.

**

Hiashi didn't normally *do* medical things. He was a chakra expert, and Shizune had taken to consulting him about cases where an injury didn't want to heal--often, they were finding, the chakra pathways had scarred--but he didn't spent time in the hospital.

He still felt duty-bound to check on the sensei who'd taught his daughter and nephew, since he'd helped create and cast the jutsu used on the man. Umino Iruka had played an important part in his wards' lives, and he couldn't just ignore him.

The hospital had records of where the Chuunin lived. Hiashi--who wasn't familiar with the Chuunin bachelor apartments--got a pleasant nurse to give him directions, and headed out on foot.

He preferred not to use rooftops unless he had to. There was something so . . . *common* about it. The foot soldiers used the rooftops; the head of the Hyuuga clan had more dignity.

He made it to Umino Iruka's apartment without any mishaps and stood outside the door, preparing to knock.

He heard something from inside. A cut-off shout, the sound of a dull impact. He formed hand seals and snarled, "Byakugan!" and saw right through the walls.

Chakra was flaring erratically, and two forms--one calm, one not--were struggling.

Hiashi smashed through the door, hands focusing into weapons, whipping around the corner to a bathroom--

And he stopped.

Kakashi looked at him, eyes red-rimmed, face too pale above the mask. He was wearing ninja blacks but no vest or hitai-ate, and his fingernails were starting to turn blue. He was holding tight to Umino Iruka, who was flailing under cold water. Heels hit the side of the tub, and Hiashi knew that was what he'd heard.

Iruka's lips were pale.

"Don't--let go--no more--!" Iruka begged, and then twisted violently again. Kakashi's eyes tightened as he compensated for the movement, fingers flexing as he shifted his grip.

The erratic chakra patterns, Hiashi realized, weren't an injury or someone creating a jutsu. It was panic, drugs, night terrors.

He'd worried. Ibiki had thought the mind-jutsu would work. Hiashi hadn't been so sure, and now he was glad he'd wanted to check on the Chuunin.

The Hyuuga elder reached out and snapped off the water. "How long has he been like this?" he asked, grabbing the Chuunin's chin and staring into dilated pupils.

"No--no--not my eyes, please not--" Iruka began, the words getting progressively louder.

Kakashi hesitated for a heavy moment. Hiashi could almost feel the other Jounin weighing his words, deciding whether or not to trust. "Most of the night," he said finally. His voice was rough, scratchy.

Hiashi wondered how long Kakashi had been sitting with Iruka under the cold water, and if he'd gotten any sleep. "Why the water?" he asked, walking into the bedroom to get a blanket. They were both too wet for towels; the clothing Kakashi was wearing would just soak a towel and then stay wet.

"It worked before."

"Well, it's obviously not now," Hiashi said, yanking a blanket off the bed. "What did you give him?" He walked back in and helped Kakashi get out of the tub without releasing Iruka.

"Elang tea," Kakashi answered, standing wearily, holding Iruka up and as still as possible while Hiashi rubbed him dry.

"How much?" He wrapped the blanket around both ninja and walked out, expecting Kakashi would follow.

Kakashi did. "The prescribed amount for a Jounin," the man said tonelessly. "He was . . . having panic attacks."

"And now," Hiashi muttered, moving things off the couch so Kakashi could sit and still keep Iruka pinned, "he's having night terrors." Louder, he asked, "Why didn't you take him back to the hospital?"

He didn't know Kakashi well, but he'd rarely seen the ninja look anything other than bored or patronizing. Now, he saw anger flare to life behind cool blue and red eyes. "So you and Ibiki could wipe his memories again?"

Hiashi could have apologized. He didn't. "When should the tea wear off?"

There was a long pause. Then, "Four more hours."

Iruka kicked up off the floor, letting Kakashi support his weight and striking back with his heels. Kakashi twisted to keep from being hit, and grunted at an elbow.

"Four hours, he'll land one of those blows," Hiashi said. He considered a moment, then decided to take a chance. He stepped forward, activating the byakugan again, and used his chakra like a knife to punch holes through Iruka's.

The screaming stopped. Dark eyes rolled back in his head, and the Chuunin slumped.

"What did you just do?" Kakashi said, tension snapping through the words.

"I bled out his chakra pathways. Since he's still weak from the soul-eating jutsu, his mind had to shut down." He was just glad it had worked like he'd hoped it would. "He'll sleep, now."

Kakashi stood there, shifting the Chuunin to a more comfortable position. "Will he still dream?"

"I don't believe so," Hiashi answered, stepping out of the way of the couch so Kakashi could put his burden down.

Kakashi stood, uncertain.

"Let him sleep," Hiashi said quietly. "He's going to need it, to get through the next few weeks."

Slowly, Kakashi crossed to the couch and laid Iruka out, shedding the blanket and turning it dry-side in before tucking it around the finally-quiet Chuunin.

"You should get some warm clothes on," Hiashi said, heading toward the kitchen. "I'll make some tea." Really, the other Jounin needed sleep as badly as Iruka did. Hiashi wanted information, first.

He found a kettle and teabags--no loose leaf stuff anywhere--and began to boil water. Kakashi came out of the bedroom long before the tea was done, wearing dry pants and shirt, and the ever-present mask. His face looked too pale, even the Sharingan eye washed out. His pupils didn't quite focus, and his skin looked like it was made of wax.

Exhaustion. Hiashi frowned and poured tea. "When did his memories return?" he asked, setting a delicate china cup on the little kitchen table.

Kakashi picked it up after a moment, gaze sliding toward the sleeping Chuunin. "Earlier this evening."

"And he's been this hysterical since?"

"It comes and goes," Kakashi said, frowning. "Or did, before I drugged him."

Hiashi relaxed a little. "That's good, then."

Kakashi shot him a sharp look, then purposefully cloaked himself in nonchalance.

"If he's not constantly like this, his mind is trying to cope," Hiashi explained. He sipped his tea, letting warm, slightly bitter liquid slide cleanly through his mouth. "What is he panicking about?"

Kakashi's shoulders slid under black cloth, frustration and distress clear in the shift of muscle. "Ibiki's jutsu. The soul-eating seal. Mizuki. Killing Naruto. Being attacked."

Hiashi frowned. He hadn't really realized how much had happened in the course of the week. He glanced back up at Kakashi, who was leaning against the kitchen table now, staring vacantly into his tea. Hiashi's mouth twisted up in a humorless smile. "Go to bed," he said, more order than suggestion.

Kakashi straightened up, frowning. "I'm fine."

"He's going to need your help later today, and you're not fine. I'll stay here and wake you if anything goes wrong." He felt responsible. He should have argued more with Ibiki, but it was easier to let the ANBU director get his way.

Kakashi hesitated. "I'll just nap," he said finally, grudgingly.

Hiashi didn't roll his eyes, nor did he snort into his teacup.

**

Hiashi woke Kakashi--by simply flaring his chakra--three hours later, when Iruka began to wake.

Kakashi looked a bit better. Iruka wasn't screaming. In fact, he even reacted to Hiashi standing over him with a fighting-though-terror, "Hiashi-san?"

Hiashi nodded once, glancing up at Kakashi. "He should start getting better," he said quietly. That, or he'd get a lot worse. They'd know soon enough.

"I--" Iruka began, and tried to get up off the couch. He staggered and nearly fell, eyes swimming with horror.

Hiashi stepped back as Kakashi hurried forward, kneeling and holding the Chuunin's shoulders. "Iruka," he said quietly, "focus."

Iruka blinked and pinned his gaze on Kakashi. "Okay," he said at last. "All right."

Hiashi stepped away, heading toward the door. "Keep me informed. If I can help . . ." he slipped on his sandals and paused. "Good luck."

**

"How long will this last?" Iruka asked softly, drinking tea and listening to the village life outside the window.

Kakashi was sitting on the floor beside his feet, cup of tea untouched in his hands. "I don't know. Hiashi and Ibiki both implied it would still be bad today, and get better from there."

Iruka took a deep breath and nodded. "Worse than . . . than last night?" He remembered the attacks, if not the dreams. He didn't want to remember the dreams.

"I don't think so," Kakashi murmured. Iruka could feel the other man's eyes on him, watching, assessing. He didn't know what Kakashi was looking for. He was too emotionally drained to summon the energy to care.

Iruka let out a shaky breath. "These are the memories they wanted to erase," he said slowly, more for himself than his lover. "I can see why they'd want to do that." A scream echoed in his mind, followed swiftly by laughter. He flinched.

"Are you all right?" Kakashi asked quietly from the floor.

"I--" he was going to say yes. Then he couldn't breathe, and the walls were closing in, and he realized he was far from all right.

He didn't know how long the attack lasted. Probably seconds. It seemed like hours, trying to fight through fear and hang onto Kakashi's voice, to remember that he wasn't really being tortured, that it was a memory, a terrible thing that had happened but *it was over.*

It broke slowly, leaving him shaking against Kakashi's chest, legs curled up protectively and fists clinging to the Jounin's shirt. "I can't do this," he nearly sobbed, fear squeezing his heart, knowing it would keep happening and keep happening and *keep happening.*

"It's be all right," Kakashi murmured, stroking his hair. "It'll be all right."

But it wouldn't. He knew it wouldn't, knew he'd live for the rest of his life with these hideous chakra flashbacks and he hated how weak it made him, how defenseless and stupid and vulnerable. He was supposed to be a ninja, supposed to be strong and--and--he was *crying*.

"It's all right," Kakashi repeated again.

"It isn't," Iruka snapped into cloth. "It isn't and I can't do this Kakashi, I can't *live* like this--"

"It'll get better," Kakashi said, and Iruka could hear the desperation in his voice. "Things like this happen, and it'll get better."

Vaguely, Iruka wondered if Kakashi spoke from experience. He didn't want to know. But if Kakashi *did* speak from experience, if he *knew* that things would get better . . . "Promise?" Iruka whispered against cloth, and wished he'd said nothing. Stupid and weak.

"Promise," Kakashi said vehemently.

He settled slowly, too tired to be upset for long. He felt weary through every bone in his body. After a while, Kakashi set him back up and handed him his tea again. He stared at it, thinking about sleep but afraid to try. He'd have nightmares; he knew that much.

"Iruka," Kakashi said softly.

He looked up.

"It will get better."

Iruka nodded wordlessly. It couldn't get worse.

**
Then

He'd never felt pain like it. Not that he could remember. He gasped, hearing his breath rattle in his lungs, and averted his eyes before his Jounin sensei set his arm.

He screamed anyway.

"Breathe," he heard faintly. "Breathe, Iruka. You can do this. It's just temporary. You can survive anything, temporarily."

Bones grated as they snapped back into place. Bile rose up the back of his throat, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He knew he was being moved, carried, could feel the agony blazing through him in wave after wave of pain.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't--

"It won't last. Just hang on. You just have to hang on through this, and then it'll be over--done--it's just for a little while longer--"

He felt shattered ribs grind against each other, and then that, too, was lost in the overall sensation of pain.

"--fine, you're doing great just a little while longer, you can survive just a little while longer--" his sensei continued.

The black danced tantalizingly close, and yet he didn't pass out. Gods, how he wished he would.

**
Now

Iruka's voice was nearly gone, and the scream was no more than a croak as he came back to his own body, to the moment in his apartment with Kakashi talking to him, shaking him, trying to snap him back from the waking nightmare.

"--you can do this, you can *do* this just hold on, all right? A little while longer," Kakashi said, mismatched eyes staring hard at Iruka.

The pain faded, fire and metal warping back into the coffee table and floor. Not being tortured. Flashback. Not being tortured.

Iruka leaned his forehead on Kakashi's shoulder and shook there, breath breaking over every exhalation.

"It's only temporary," Kakashi said, rubbing his back. "Just a little while longer. It'll go away, I promise, it'll go away."

His Sensei's words, dragged up through the murk of pain and, later, drugs, echoed through his head. "Temporary," he croaked into Kakashi's neck.

"*Yes,* yes it's temporary it won't last. You'll get better," Kakashi agreed quickly. "Just hold on through today and--and they said it would be all right."

Iruka could hear the desperation in Kakashi's voice. It frightened him; there was something Kakashi wasn't saying, something he hadn't been told. Iruka closed his eyes and decided it didn't matter.

Temporary. He could survive anything, temporarily. He breathed and clung to that thought.

*********************

A/N: I'm crazy busy, and trying to respond to feedback. If you don't get a response for a few weeks, know that I read it, appreciated it, and will write back when I can. :)

J