Sequel to The Easy Way Out by kakagurl. Written with permission from her, and she's excited for it, too. I don't own Naruto, and I barely own this story, so there's no reason for the guillotine. Put it away.
I wrote this in less than two hours and only did a quick proofread myself. Tell me if you find any errors, please and thanks.
My apologies to Li Michal--I am working on Thirst, I swear. This just has been niggling in my brain for too long and practically wrote itself.
--Wolfie-lou
Sakura hadn't trained extensively for years under the best damn medic Konoha—or any other village, for that matter—had ever produced for nothing. The moment she saw that kunai enter Kakashi's chest, she went into professional mode, acting almost on autopilot as she flew to his side.
Her inner was completely silent as she staunched the bleeding with her own shirt and healed the area around the weapon. She yanked it out, soothing the nerves and his heart whilst doing so.
"We just need to stabilize him and get him to the hospital," muttered Sakura, to herself.
Gurgling noises erupted from the dying man's throat. His lungs were filling with blood, and he was drowning in it.
Sakura swallowed her scream and forced all her efforts into closing the wound on his chest. The other medics could clear his breathing when she got to the hospital.
Finally, the gaping opening was reduced to a faint pink line and Sakura hauled the pale-haired man she loved into a fireman's carry and raced at top speed through the trees and village.
"Flush his lungs!" she screamed at the older male medic she encountered in the first empty operating room she stumbled into.
"Lay him out, Uchiha-sensei," he ordered. While she rapidly complied, the purple-haired man scurried to the door, calling for backup.
One of the four medics who rushed in hustled Sakura out and firmly closed the door. She had no energy to protest, not even when she heard a faint shout of, "He's not fighting!" and instead slumped into a chair in the waiting lounge on the floor below.
How did I get here? she wondered. She passed out and woke up in a bed fourteen hours later, completely rested.
"Sakura, good. You're awake," said Tsunade from the corner. Relief rang clear in her voice.
"Where am—oh, gods! Kakashi! Where is he?" she demanded, spluttering, and leaped off the bed. "Take me to him!"
A torn look flitted across Tsunade's face. She rose slowly and beckoned to her younger apprentice.
Several turns and flights of stairs later, a terrified, puzzled expression lit the pink-haired young woman's face.
"Shishou, why are headed to the morgue?" she asked. The Hokage said nothing. She repeated her question, a little more panicked. And again, when still the Godaime kept her silence, then a third time, hysterical.
She screamed. Fear, anger, betrayal, denial—but most of all, pain—every single thing moving at full force through her veins, heart, mind—it all came out in one throat-tearing, ear-shattering roar.
Tsunade patiently bore with it and ran after Sakura when she throttled past to the swinging double doors of the morgue. She didn't want Sakura left alone but knew she needed to respect this moment of privacy. She stood outside, leaning against the wall opposite the doors.
Inside, Sakura was greeted by the grim sight of Kakashi, spread out on an icy metal slab, covered only with a sterile white sheet.
The shinobi in charge of the place looked up from his desk when she burst in.
"Uchiha-san," he said gravely.
She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and whispered, "It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."
"Uchiha-san—"
"Don't." Her voice was choked. "Call me that. I'm Sakura."
"Oh. Sakura-san. We went through Hatake-san's personal effects and…there was…a ring…found in a pocket of his vest. Your name was inscribed on it. I thought you should have it."
"Yes, yes," she mumbled distractedly, staring at Kakashi's overly pale form while advancing to him. She tore her teary-eyed gaze away from him only when the man grasped her wrist, lifting and turning her hand, and pressed a small circle into her palm.
"Thank you. C-can I-I h-have a m-moment, please?" Her voice broke on a whisper.
"Of course, Sakura-san," he murmured and left.
Silence rang, hung heavy—an oppressive burden—in the cold steel room.
Sakura removed the wedding band from Sasuke and pitched it across the room. The ping sound it made shattered the stillness and brought her voice back. She put on the engagement ring from Kakashi.
"I filed for divorce today," she said calmly, conversationally. Like he would open his eyes and answer her. "Well, yesterday, I suppose. About an hour or two after I saw you. That's what I was coming to tell you, actually. And that I love you. I'm just sorry I realized it too late." She was combing her fingers through his silver hair, feeling it for the first and last time. "But we have all eternity to be together now."
And she climbed onto the bitingly cold steel table and pressed herself close to Kakashi. She kissed his lips gently.
Sakura picked up a scalpel, carved a few characters into her flesh and slit her own throat.
Tsunade found her fifteen minutes later.
"Sakura," she gasped as she caught sight of the bloody mess.
Not all the blood was from her self-severed jugular, she saw.
On the underside of her left arm read the words: I am Hatake Sakura.