Quietly Hidden
A/N: Written for naruto100 drabble challenge. Minor edits from original.
Prompt: Sometimes they come back.
Summary: Ino confronts her knowledge of hidden things that should be said.
"Sometimes they come back," Sakura had said, and she looked so serious at the time that Ino had felt a pang of worry race up her spine. They had been talking about dreams, late at night over plates of crackers and tea. Ino had invited Sakura over to catch up after her latest mission in Sand - originally to discuss Sakura's current blossoming relationship, which Ino privately thought was pointing toward an engagement - but the conversation had glossed over light gossip, driving to a darker direction instead.
Ino blew it off, later - Sakura was a strong woman and an even stronger kunoichi, and if anything were to take her down, it wasn't going to be an over-used imagination. As a member of the prominent "New Sannin," Sakura's legendary strength held Konoha up just as her honored predecessor Tsunade's had. So she was entirely taken with surprise when news came that Sakura had collapsed during a mission and was in the emergency wing of the hospital.
The details laid Sakura's heart bare. There was a child trapped in a burning building, set on fire by one of Sasuke's jutsus. The team hadn't been aware that someone was still inside - their task had been to demolish, not to kill - and the child's cries had wrenched Sakura's mind from the focus of a ninja to the pain of a mother. In desperation - the fire had covered the entire building - Sakura had jumped through the flames to try and pry open a doorframe already welded shut by the heat. She failed. Sasuke was good at his job. The child had died, and all Sakura had left were two scarred hands and fingerfuls of broken nails.
The sunset colored Sakura's hospital room a lovely orange when Ino entered. Being one of the New Sannin had its perks - people gave you the best of everything, including wide-windowed rooms with a breathtaking view. Ino walked quietly to the bed and set a small glass vase holding a single white narcissus on the bedstand. Sakura was sleeping. Ino wouldn't stay long. When Sakura woke, she would find the flower and wonder about the mysterious gift, and perhaps the small white bloom would bring her memories of a better time - memories that did not involve the rainy day when she lost her child.
Sakura would survive. Ino knew that. But she still blamed herself for not seeing the signs, for not understanding. She made a promise, when Sakura first whispered to her, half-drunkenly, about the dreams she had, and the truth, the terrible truth - a promise to never tell anyone, because Sakura didn't want her to. Never mind that it was a dangerous time to have a child, never mind that if she had one, Sakura's life would have been at stake - never mind that her friends, had they known, would have understood. Ino blamed herself for being silent that night over crackers and tea, for believing too much in Sakura's strength, for thinking that Sakura might have healed with time. Ino wasn't a mother, and might never be. But she was a friend, and as one she had failed Sakura for far too long.
Ino got up. Shikamaru would be in his office now - the onset of his promotion as Hokage had bashed down his inherent laziness as nothing else did during the course of his life. Ino sometimes missed his carefree attitude - every time she saw him it seemed that he was more tired, and thus more annoying - but he was good at listening, and following the right path. She would talk to him. And Sakura might begin to heal.