CHAPTER ONE: MANHATTAN

hang on to the reverie, could you do that for me?
you can have Manhattan, 'cause I can't have you

Truthfully, he would've walked right past her if it weren't for her hair. In a sea of black and brown, that unmistakable, eye-catching shade of bubblegum pink stands out like a sore thumb, and the surprise catches him in mid-stride. With her back half-turned towards him and her face partially hidden in profile, he can almost convince himself that it is someone else, this lithe young woman with her long legs and pale skin, her hair cut in a stylish bob. But there is something in the way that she leans on the railing, staring out over the hustle and bustle of Victoria Harbour, that reminds him of the fifteen year old girl he once knew.

She sees him before he can slip by unnoticed. Her eyes widen, her hand reflexively gripping the railing for support. When she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. "...Sasuke."

"Sakura," he replies, as thrown as she by this unexpected encounter. Sasuke half expects her to launch herself into his arms (she would've, so many years ago) but instead, Sakura simply stands there, studying him in cool appraisal.

There is a prolonged, painfully awkward pause. "You've… changed."

The corners of Sakura's lips curl upwards into a loose parody of a smile. "Well, it has been ten years, genius."

Sasuke almost flinches. The Sakura he knew would have smiled at him, cried at him – hell, shown some indication at all that she was excited to see him. This cool, self-assured woman is a stranger.

The years stand between them.

"What are you doing in Hong Kong?" he finally asks, when Sakura makes no move to carry the conversation.

She shrugs. "I'm in my final year of med at Stanford, and a summer internship was offered at one of the hospitals here. It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

Sasuke fights the urge to gape at her, unable to believe his ears. How on earth did shallow, boy-crazy Sakura, who'd only cared about popularity and nail polish colours and, well, him – manage to get into one of the most prestigious medical programmes in the world?

"What about you?"

It takes a moment for Sasuke to register that Sakura had asked him question. "I'm on leave for a week," he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Do you work here?"

"No, I've been with the NYPD for two years." There had been no question regarding his career. The police force in New York City was pretty much a family business by now.

Sakura smiles wryly. "And yet, here we are, bumping into each other in Hong Kong of all places. Funny how life works."

Silence descends upon them again as they both stare out over the city skyline, bright against the smoggy dusk.

This time, it is Sakura who breaks the silence. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Sasuke," she says. It is polite, distant – the language of strangers. One hand lifts in a half-wave as she turns to leave. "Enjoy your holiday in Hong Kong."

"—Wait." The word slips out of Sasuke's mouth in spite of himself.

Sakura stops, her face half-turned towards him as she waits for him to continue. Sasuke is suddenly struck with the poignancy of the moment (but it is different now – it is he who has been left behind, watching her walk away) and an unnamed emotion – guilt, perhaps – wells up inside him.

"Let's have coffee tomorrow." Though phrased like a statement, the slight hesitation in his words belies his surety. For the first time in his life, Sakura is inscrutable to him, and he can't predict how she will respond. It is discomfiting, and strangely, Sasuke finds himself anxiously waiting for her response.

Sakura turns away, tendrils of hair falling forwards to cover her face. She is silent for a very long time.

"Okay," she finally says. Her voice is quiet, resigned. "Tomorrow, then."

—and I know that holding us in place is simply fear of what's already changed.

(Sara Bareilles, 'Manhattan')