Warnings: Possible spoilers for beginning of Shippuden, but doubtful.
Disclaimer: The world of Naruto is wonderful and belongs to Kishimoto. I'm merely visiting.
A/N: It's been a long time...
Respite
For just a moment.
One moment.
She doesn't want to think about it.
Rationally. Strategically. Objectively.
Temari stands beside the hospital bed. Not even looking at Kankuro on the clean sheets. Blank gaze aimed out the window at the vague silhouette of the village, the mountain ridge behind it. Bodily aware of so many small sensations that should be insignificant, but are vital to here and now. This moment.
Moonlight cutting across the floor.
Smell of antiseptic and sweat.
The hollow dripdripdrip from the IV.
Chill of the air against her overheated skin.
And suddenly she realizes her fingers are trembling and her head aches and her entire body is quitting in slow increments despite her mental flagellations.
She can't give in to the despair. Can't close her eyes against stark white bandages. Can't ignore her mounting responsibilities to her village. Her people. Her family.
But for one moment.
She lets the tears creep past her lashes, sliding effortlessly down her cheeks. She crawls onto the bed, shaky limbs stealing her usual grace, and carefully curls against Kankuro's arm. Forehead barely touching the clammy skin of his shoulder. She releases the silent sobs trapped just in the back of her throat.
Just for a moment.
A. Single. Solitary. Moment.
She wants to think about it.
Irrationally. Emotionally. Tortuously.
How her home is under attack and people have died and they've all been betrayed and she wishes Shikamaru was here and hates that she wishes it and what if she'd been one day late or why didn't she leave Konoha a day earlier...
How one little brother was close to death.
And the other might already be dead.
She doesn't move when Kankuro's arm lifts from the bed and settles around her. Not until she feels the light pull against her body, his weakened attempt to bring her closer. It's so easy to give in and push forward, to press her wet face against his bandaged ribs. To let him soothe her, big hand gently petting her shoulder while he brokenly hums an ancient shinobi ballad.
Because this is her moment.
Right here and now.
Captured between the hazy moonlight at the window and the rough gauze strips already damp with her tears.
Between agonizing uncertainty and Kankuro's broken voice.
end
