[ In another situation, Kisame might chuckle at his partner's clear confusion. It is a rare sight, after all. As it is, his brief flicker of amusement shows itself in a quick, thin smile that vanishes as soon as Itachi's gaze drops. Then Itachi is silent, and Kisame watches and waits.
Years ago, Kisame was forced to leap off a cliff while fleeing from a squad of Konoha's Anbu. He had no idea what lay at the bottom, nor could he be sure if he would survive the fall. He feels rather like that now: as though he's stepped off a ledge and is plummeting toward some unknown fate. A bit dramatic, perhaps — but what good has ever come from admitting vulnerability? Kisame can think of only one time such a thing was for the best … and Itachi is not Madara.
"Where is it?" That's too direct a question to avoid, particularly when a lie could fall apart so easily. So Kisame raises his left wrist, then looks down at it, avoiding Itachi's gaze. (Is that cowardly of him? Perhaps. But for once, he doesn't want to meet those eyes.) He slides his right index finger beneath the band of his arm warmer and pulls the fabric up. And there, wrapped carefully around his wrist, is Itachi's necklace. ]
I found it sometime after you vanished. Lucky thing, eh?
[ It's an attempt to explain how he has it without touching on why. Will Itachi let him leave it at that…? He doesn't know, but he offers nothing more.
Kisame keeps his gaze on his work as he gently unfastens the clasp and unwinds the necklace from his wrist. His skin feels oddly bare without it. Ignoring that sensation, he finally looks up and holds the necklace out to his partner. ]
[A lucky, convenient thing to be sure. His gaze is measured, attempting to dissect the truer meaning of his partner's words - a second-sense telling him that there is more unspoken in the context of that explanation. But he cannot demand it. After all, concealing secrets is the heart of how they've operated for several years. It offers safety, a professional distance.
Yet some fissures have still developed, and looking at Kisame now, the urgency to know his partner's inner world is almost overwhelming. Especially as he comes to realize where Kisame has kept the necklace since they were last together.
Itachi stares, openly, at the chain looped around the other man's wrist. Is it there for security, so that it may not fall off or get lost? Wouldn't a pocket or bag have served the purpose? Endless questions race through his head unanswered. Part of him wonders whether Kisame won't lie, if he asked more directly.
Tentative fingers extend, accepting the necklace, allowing it to loop over his knuckles. The metal is warm against his skin. What would happen if he refused and insisted Kisame keep it - would he dispose of it, seeing the item as useless? Itachi has no need to possess the necklace now, but the thought that his partner might simply toss it into the trash holds any desire to give it back. He slides it into a pocket.]
... Thank you. [A brief, uneasy silence falls. Then he moves forward, hunting the kitchen and extended area for something to write on. He finds a pen and pad of paper on the counter. With a quick scrawl, an address is jotted down.] This is where I am currently staying, should you need to find me. It is not too far from here.
[ In the space of that uneasy silence, Kisame wonders if he ought to speak. But what would he say? Brushing Itachi's gratitude aside is an option, but that would be disingenuous even for him. He can't very well feign indifference, either; if he were indifferent, the necklace would still be in Hell. Some part of him — the reckless part — wants to offer an explanation. What would happen then? What would his cold partner think if Kisame were to admit that he had clung to the only piece of Itachi that remained?
The moment passes. Kisame keeps his useless sentimentalism to himself. The sensation of falling fades; in its place comes the dull, heavy weight of exhaustion. He tries not to let it show. He can rest later. ]
Thank you. I'll keep you informed of any interesting developments.
[ Those words feel strange to say. When was the last time he needed to 'keep Itachi informed' of anything? Not only is Itachi a genius, but they worked side-by-side for years. Even privacy was minimal, what with needing to watch each other for signs of treachery. There was no need for such updates when Itachi was right beside him.
But things have changed since then. Itachi died. Kisame has spent six months on his own or at Madara's right hand. Now Itachi is alive once more, living a second life in which he is "involved." And Kisame still has a mission to accomplish. A new world to create.
He releases a quiet breath. So, they'll reside in different places, and they'll find each other if needed. It could be far worse. ]
… I'm pleased that you're here as well, Itachi-san.
[ Words that skirt the truth: "I'm so thankful that you're alive." ]
[Kisame is not the only one who has noticed the implicit change. Were they still in Hell, he might have fallen easily to his partner’s side in living accommodations and regular company as before. The better to watch and monitor their surroundings. But there is no need now, in this world and its relative safety by comparison -- that, and he has already turned down Stiles’ offer to live together. How would it seem if he went to Kisame instead?
And the differences of time, environments, circumstances. Here, he is sick. He isn’t sure what would happen if Kisame discovered this; perhaps, as was the case while he was alive, nothing but quiet compliance. Yet he is no longer willing to put that burden on his partner if it isn’t strictly necessary. He can manage well enough on his own.
The comment stops him, head turning, attempting to gauge Kisame’s expression for its subtlest details. Whether or not he reaches some conclusion, the slight dip of his head reveals little.]
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no subject
Years ago, Kisame was forced to leap off a cliff while fleeing from a squad of Konoha's Anbu. He had no idea what lay at the bottom, nor could he be sure if he would survive the fall. He feels rather like that now: as though he's stepped off a ledge and is plummeting toward some unknown fate. A bit dramatic, perhaps — but what good has ever come from admitting vulnerability? Kisame can think of only one time such a thing was for the best … and Itachi is not Madara.
"Where is it?" That's too direct a question to avoid, particularly when a lie could fall apart so easily. So Kisame raises his left wrist, then looks down at it, avoiding Itachi's gaze. (Is that cowardly of him? Perhaps. But for once, he doesn't want to meet those eyes.) He slides his right index finger beneath the band of his arm warmer and pulls the fabric up. And there, wrapped carefully around his wrist, is Itachi's necklace. ]
I found it sometime after you vanished. Lucky thing, eh?
[ It's an attempt to explain how he has it without touching on why. Will Itachi let him leave it at that…? He doesn't know, but he offers nothing more.
Kisame keeps his gaze on his work as he gently unfastens the clasp and unwinds the necklace from his wrist. His skin feels oddly bare without it. Ignoring that sensation, he finally looks up and holds the necklace out to his partner. ]
no subject
Yet some fissures have still developed, and looking at Kisame now, the urgency to know his partner's inner world is almost overwhelming. Especially as he comes to realize where Kisame has kept the necklace since they were last together.
Itachi stares, openly, at the chain looped around the other man's wrist. Is it there for security, so that it may not fall off or get lost? Wouldn't a pocket or bag have served the purpose? Endless questions race through his head unanswered. Part of him wonders whether Kisame won't lie, if he asked more directly.
Tentative fingers extend, accepting the necklace, allowing it to loop over his knuckles. The metal is warm against his skin. What would happen if he refused and insisted Kisame keep it - would he dispose of it, seeing the item as useless? Itachi has no need to possess the necklace now, but the thought that his partner might simply toss it into the trash holds any desire to give it back. He slides it into a pocket.]
... Thank you. [A brief, uneasy silence falls. Then he moves forward, hunting the kitchen and extended area for something to write on. He finds a pen and pad of paper on the counter. With a quick scrawl, an address is jotted down.] This is where I am currently staying, should you need to find me. It is not too far from here.
no subject
The moment passes. Kisame keeps his useless sentimentalism to himself. The sensation of falling fades; in its place comes the dull, heavy weight of exhaustion. He tries not to let it show. He can rest later. ]
Thank you. I'll keep you informed of any interesting developments.
[ Those words feel strange to say. When was the last time he needed to 'keep Itachi informed' of anything? Not only is Itachi a genius, but they worked side-by-side for years. Even privacy was minimal, what with needing to watch each other for signs of treachery. There was no need for such updates when Itachi was right beside him.
But things have changed since then. Itachi died. Kisame has spent six months on his own or at Madara's right hand. Now Itachi is alive once more, living a second life in which he is "involved." And Kisame still has a mission to accomplish. A new world to create.
He releases a quiet breath. So, they'll reside in different places, and they'll find each other if needed. It could be far worse. ]
… I'm pleased that you're here as well, Itachi-san.
[ Words that skirt the truth: "I'm so thankful that you're alive." ]
no subject
And the differences of time, environments, circumstances. Here, he is sick. He isn’t sure what would happen if Kisame discovered this; perhaps, as was the case while he was alive, nothing but quiet compliance. Yet he is no longer willing to put that burden on his partner if it isn’t strictly necessary. He can manage well enough on his own.
The comment stops him, head turning, attempting to gauge Kisame’s expression for its subtlest details. Whether or not he reaches some conclusion, the slight dip of his head reveals little.]
Likewise.
[In the lingering silence, he turns to leave.]