A/N: Part one of a two-shot inspired by three prompts from midoriland's sasusaku marathon (days 17,18 and 19 - "Chapter 697", "It was fate" and "Bonds"). I considered posting it in "The Marathon", which is a collective story for all the sasusaku-marathon-related fanfictions (check it out!), but since it's a two-shot, I think it deserves its own place.
I will try to publish part 2, sometime next week (I still need to finish some other things, so please, be patient).
It's a wild ride, I warn you, but I hope you'll like it! ;)
Enjoy!

WHEN YOU'RE FAST ASLEEP

Summary: "He is filling her simple plain life with so much happiness, she would like to return the favour, even if she doesn't quite know how, since he can't actually hear her." Sakura's POV, post-manga AU
Rating: K+
Genre: Romance/Sprititual/Angst
Warnings: none

Part 1: Sleeping Beauty
"Every time I close my eyes
It's like a dark paradise
No one compares to you
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side"
Lana Del Rey, "Dark paradise"

The house she currently lives in is quiet.

It always is.

Maybe because she lives there alone, all by herself, or maybe because it is empty, save for that one old couch in the living room. For some reason it doesn't unsettle her, even though she knows it should. The house seems somehow familiar with its white walls, wooden floors and many, many rooms. It's good since she can't remember much else.

She knows her name is Sakura, like cherry blossoms on the first day of spring, but it's not clear if it's her real name. It wouldn't be the first time she had imagined things about herself or dreamt them up. Her mind, for some reason, attempts to remember even when she had already given up on trying. The will of her subconsciousness is apparently stronger than had even thought possible.

The thing is she doesn't know anything for sure – she doesn't know if her name is real, she doesn't know if she ever had a name and she doesn't know if she had a surname.

She doesn't know a lot about herself.

Her hair is pink and long. The colour is very unusual – even she knows it, as disoriented as she is – and it leaves her wondering if it was an effect of some sort of genetic defect or maybe one of her parents had had pink hair as well.

Did she even have parents?

The thought enters her mind sometimes. For some reason, every time she can't remember something seemingly so simple, it makes her really sad. What type of person she must be to not remember her own parents?

She knows deep down that she wasn't an orphan before ending up in this strange house.

Just like she knows that her eyes are green, even though there are no mirrors in here so she couldn't have seen them. But she is sure they are green – like fresh grass – and so vivid people used to compliment them all the time.

Things seem to just be in her head. The fuzzy memories of days in Before she keeps dreaming about, but can't recall after waking up.

Her life is very strange.

Then there's also the voice.

It speaks to her everyday and she awaits it, because when the voice speaks, she doesn't feel so lonely. She remembers it, which is kind of amazing, considering how bad her memory is, and she also knows it belongs to a man.

She first saw him on the street of her home village not long after she started attending the Academy. What she studied there is a mystery to her, but it doesn't really matter, she supposed. She's pretty sure she was there before him, standing next to someone near the fruit stand and trying to stay invisible, but she can be wrong. It's not as if she was looking for him. Even though she recognized him the moment she spotted him, she wasn't there because she stalked him or anything. She was just out shopping on the ever-busy market street. It was pure coincidence. The details are a bit burry after that. For example, Sakura remembers that they were looking at each other and that his eyes are beautiful and obsidian black in colour, but she doesn't remember if they ever talked, yet she knows his voice.

She knows it so well it sometimes scares her.

It's as if there was more to them, far more than stolen glances in a crowded market street. It doesn't make any sense, but she is used to it by now. Nothing makes much sense these days, especially not those crazy things that go through her head without even trying to present themselves in some semblance of order or at least in full, not in chopped pieces and sharp fragments that leave her incredibly confused every single time they flash before her eyes . Sometimes she thinks it's good. It doesn't look as if her life before this was an exciting or good one, if the glimpses of feelings that grip her heart so strong she is choking are anything to go by.

Maybe that's why she waits for this mysterious man she knows from somewhere – because he seems like the only good thing that had ever happened to her. She can tell he is not a bad person. She doesn't remember how he looks like, except for his pretty eyes, but his voice is full of truth and sounds so nice, so warm that it's simply impossible. It's rough and deep, and she doesn't understand a word of what she says, but it still makes her feel all sorts of good things.

There are also times when he sounds sad.

It's not very often, but it happens and Sakura would like to know what makes him sad. He is filling her simple plain life with so much happiness, she would like to return the favour, even if she doesn't quite know how, since he can't actually hear her.

-o-o-o-

She doesn't do much when he is not there. Mostly she just wanders around the house with little to no purpose. At the very beginning she had been looking for a way out, but she quickly learnt that there was none. Every and each door lead to a room with a boarded-up window. They all looked and smelt the same. They were probably just the same one room, though she couldn't really understand how it was possible. Only the living room looked different. She noticed it the very first day and she still doesn't know the reason behind it. There are many things she doesn't know or understand nowadays, so it's okay. She became strangely numb while living in this house. Nothing seems to bother her much. She should be freaking out by now, both from the complete lack of knowledge about this place and because there is obviously something wrong with her, but she isn't. One day she realizes she doesn't even know how long has she been here – for how many days, weeks or months.

She can't remember what made her come here in the first place as well.

There are only pieces of something she can't name. She gets these flashes of colour or someone calling her name, but she thinks it isn't the voice. It is someone else. It really confuses her sometimes.

There are bright lights, the maddening song of thousand chirping birds, the sensation of something going through her – they are all quite vivid in her mind.

And then she is falling.

She dreams about those things on most nights.

She remembers that she knows how it feels to fall.

Sakura had fallen many times in her lifetime – down the stairs, from the ladder, from grace, from favour, out of the bed and even out of her very own window that one time when she got it into her head that it's a good idea to wash it in the middle of January and she slipped on the frozen windowsill.

Above all else, though, she fell in love and it was probably the most painful fall of her life.

Anyhow, by now she was at least a master in the art of falling.

She knows the lightheaded sensation and the gut-wrecking feeling of utter helplessness that accompanies the fall itself. She had done it enough times to be an expert in landing on all fours, but she isn't sure it'll be the case this time around, because on her better days, she can recall actual memories. Even if they are too messed up for her to put them in order.

Everything hurt. The world was spinning around, faster and faster, and then it stopped suddenly. She woke up on the living room couch.

That's maybe the strangest thing – the couch.

How can you fall for so long and then end up on the couch? It doesn't make sense. Nothing does. And when she starts thinking about it, her head starts to hurt so much, she is forced to stop.

She screams, but no sound comes out, so she just keeps screaming until there is no strength left in her and she collapses.

Right after there are always blank pages she can't fill, but she doesn't dream and it's always a better alternative to nightmares, isn't it?

-o-o-o-

One day her mysterious visitor doesn't come.

She waits for him for hours, but it seems even he can't stay with her forever. The betrayal burns deep and it hurts to think that she will be all alone again, just like she was before the man appeared in her life.

That day is also the first one when she hears other voices.

They are familiar, but she still hides from them in the corridor. She can hear them well from there and it somehow seems safer to stay away. She sits on the floor and listens, but the words are too hazy. All she gets is that they are worried. She really wants to know why.

The first voice belongs to a woman. There's an image floating to the surface of her consciousness – of blond her and hazel eyes, and strength not many can match – but it's not really helpful.

Then there's the second voice, which she is sure belongs to a man. It reminds her of sun, carefree laughter and unbreakable bonds. It's a voice that belongs to a dear friend. A tear slides down her cheek when she realizes she can't remember his name.

The last two voices belong to a man and a woman. They don't talk much, but those few words they've spoken make her think about home.

Do those voices belong to her parents?

She doesn't know. She doesn't remember.

It's all too much.

She wants to cover her ears, but before she can do it, the voices leave.

All she has now is silence.

She waits and waits, still on the floor, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut and dreams that he is there, and that she is not alone anymore. She wakes up with a start and it's true – he is back. She is so happy that she runs to the living room window and she leans back against it. Her smiles grows as she listens to him.

And then, for the first time, she can understand what he says.

"They say that you aren't going to wake up." There's something in his voice that lets her know he doesn't agree with them. Of course he shouldn't. She is awake, right? "I don't know what to think. Tsunade talks about letting you go, because it's been almost two years, but I... Fuck it, I can't, you know? I can't let you just disappear. I've found you, Sakura. I've finally found you and..."

He stops midsentence, but she doesn't care. His words make her break inside. She is crying – not with soundless single tears, but properly – and she wants to reach out to him, and take away the sadness from his voice, take it away from his heart and from his soul, and make him better.

"If I could have taken all your pain onto myself to comfort you..."

Her eyes open wide when those words reverberate through her mind along with a memory of a man walking away that is as clear as those four falls surrounding her.

"... I would have."

Something, either in his words or in her crazy mind, must have triggered the memory to show itself. The pain she feels in association with it is almost unbearable, but she is still happy, because she remembers something and it's a good sign.

Maybe no one will have to let her go if she is able to remember? Maybe if she remembers more, she can leave this place? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Wake up, Sakura. Wake up," the man says in a somewhat broken voice. "Please, wake up."

She wants to. Kami-sama only knows how much she wants to listen to him and just wake up.

She is on her feet in a blink of an eye. Her legs carry her out of the living room and down the hall. She is running, pushing herself to her limits as she once again opens door after door in a futile attempt to free herself from the clutches of this mad house.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up..."

She hears his voice in her head, repeating those two words like a mantra. Over and over again.

Finally, after what feels like hours, she realizes it's not working. She can still hear him as she makes her way back into the living room, dragging her weary body with those last few remains of determination she has left. When she reaches her destination, she collapses onto the ground with her back to the boarded-up window. Exhaustion settles into her bones and her eyes flutter as she cries quietly in resignation.

Then she feels something.

It takes her a moment to realize that he is kissing her.

First his lips touch her forehead. They brush against it softly, barely there at all. They travel to her cheeks and he kisses each of them, lingering slightly and whispering his two-word mantra as he goes. Then he kisses her eyelids in the same manner he kissed her forehead.

And then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he kisses her lips.

-o-o-o-

Waking up from such a long dream is difficult.

Her vision is blurry, her throat burns and her muscles protest when she sits up.

"Where am I?" She asks in a voice that doesn't sound like it belongs to her. It's too rough and so dry that every letter feels like it's scrapping against the inside of her throat with sand paper before it escapes through her mouth.

A glass of water appears in front of her eyes. She accepts it gratefully, taking small sips as her vision clears completely.

His eyes are the first thing she truly sees.

They are the same obsidian-black she remembers. His eyelashes are long and cast shadows onto his cheekbones, sharper than they have been when she saw him last. He seems exhausted. By what, she doesn't know, but she can make an educated guess.

"Sasuke..."

He blinks and she observes in fascination as twin lines of light travel down his face.

"I'm so sorry...," he whispers.

Sakura knows what he is apologizing for.

She can finally remember.

She sees flashes of colour and someone is calling her name. It's not Sasuke. The voice belongs to someone else. It's all sun, carefree laughter and unbreakable bonds, and it's filled with anguish. She knows now that it's Naruto's voice.

There are bright lights as she runs to the two figures fighting by the shore. She hears the maddening song of thousand chirping birds as Sasuke prepares for his last attack and she sees his hand as it moves for the kill. It happens so fast she can't really tell what exactly happened, but there's a sensation of something going through her and she knows it's Sasuke's hand that had pierced her chest .

Everything is still vivid in her mind.

And then she is falling into the darkness.

Somehow she has survived and she gets a feeling it has something to do with the man sitting in front of her, even though he was the one who had almost killed her in the first place.

"It's okay," she says with a small smile as she places the now empty glass on the left side of her bed. "I'm not angry."

"I'm so sorry...," he repeats as he takes her hands into his and lowers his head to kiss them. "I'm so, so sorry."

"I know." She frees her hands from his grasp and brings them to his face, wiping his tears away with her thumbs. "And I forgive you."

Sasuke looks up at her.

Sakura smiles.

All is well.