Wasted Effort.

To him, there were many things that were worth the effort, like training to become stronger, leaving Konoha to become a murderer—despite that he calls it being better than HIM—and never ever showing any emotion.

Those are some things that he says are worth the effort.

But, then again, there are many, many more things that he would tell you are just wasted effort—but he would not tell you, for speaking is another thing that he classifies as just "Wasted Effort."

At first, when I had met him, all of those years ago—I think I might have been about 7 or 8—he did not seem that kind of guy who he is today, no heavens no. He smiled, played around on the swing set in the local playground, he talked, he even blushed when the girls in our class room would call him pretty or…or some other word—I can't really remember now, for a decade tends to be such a very long, long time—even now, as the seconds pass me by, I feel like years have just disappeared.

But I don't tell you—even if you were here—because, you would tell me in some broody superior voice that watching time is just wasted effort—"A true Shinobi never watches the time it takes to be what they are, the end justifies the means"—were your exact words I think—that had been nearly six years ago—so I might not have every word down.

But, you—where ever you are now—would scowl and tell that I am just wasting my effort, trying to remember such un-needed things—memories are created to hurt us—but you never realized is that they prevent us from becoming something that we ourselves are loathing of.

Now that, I don't think am too happy to say—it is such a terrible feeling—is something that you don't call wasted effort. Hatred, loathing, anything of the sort to you is not wasted effort. Because, hate is what you needed right? To kill HIM—"Hating him will be the only way I can destroy Him"—your words.

Sometimes, I wonder if everything that has led up to this day has been just "Wasted Effort" to you. I mean, most of it—it being the marriage and the proposal and the talk with my mother—must have been classified as wasted effort.

You knew—you sometimes scare me by how much you know—way before you came home that I would be the one. That I would say yes to you, that I would follow you and stand there on the altar. Never have you been wrong about me—and that scared me, gives me nightmares too—I am like a doll, you controlling my every move, bending me backwards, waiting until the day that I eventually break beneath your strong hands.

Then maybe, you might find someone who is not such a wasted effort.

I mean, how did this—after all of your careful planning—go wrong? You had made it clear what I would eat, what I would do, when I would sleep, talk, move, everything had been under your control. This was your child inside of me, and it was you who would one day train the said child to become the strongest of your clan.

That is what you believed in, what you had put all of your effort into.

Your future clan—anything that had to do with the clan—was never ever to be called a wasted effort.

But now, can I such as dare to call all of this a wasted effort?

Me, laying in bed in the hospital tubes all over me, and my once large stomach shrunken and my body now belonging to me once again.

The months leading up to the labor had been normal; I fallowed the schedule that you left on my bed in my bedroom like always. I rested the good three hours for meditation that you had requested I did. The chefs you hired made the proper amounts of the proper foods for me. I ate what I had to; I did everything according to your words.

The only thing—now I notice—is that I did not think how you wanted me to. I –still—believed that when you came home from your missions, that you would smile at me, rub my growing stomach affectionately and ask me to sleep beside you tonight—instead of going to my separated bedroom—and I thought that beneath those cold, cold eyes were soft loving glances.

But, I –never, I still fear what you would do to me—don't tell you. Affectionate gestures and words, anything of the sort is considered wasted effort. You do not ever never ever have time for affection or me.

But, getting back to what I was saying—"Wasting Time, is Wasting Effort"—I am not entirely sure how this happened.

The due date had been exact, just like you wanted it. And I had been up when my water broke, walked calmly over to you in the study—careful to knock and to make sure that I was cleaned up, of course—and you nodded, set down your book and grabbed my bag. The two of us—well you really, I was not allowed to walk, among other things—walked to the hospital and signed me in.

Nearly fourteen hours later—fourteen long, long hours in labor without you—I just barely gave birth to your son. A healthy baby boy—well if it had not been for the fact that I nearly died and took him with me—that you would name.

It had been so unbearably painful.

I am very experienced, I have vast knowledge, so, and when I was told to push I had expected the pain.

What I did not expect, was that and artery would break—that had been the second most painful part—and my blood poured from my body, nearly drowning my—your—baby in my blood—now that was most painful for I could hear him crying—and I could not do anything.

By the time the baby was safely removed from my body, then after losing nearly a gallon of blood—very painful shall I remind you—I was given the luxury of going unconscious—only after hearing the baby cry softly once more—and letting the darkness embrace me.

But, still I don't ever tell you—even though you are sitting beside my bed and starting intently at me—for that would be wasted effort.

You read the report, spoke to Tsunade and found out all of the details. Now, all I have to wait for is for you to blame me for what happened. Why our—your—baby is going to be held in special care for the next forty-eight hours. Speaking of what happened—even now that you are here and might want to know all of the details from me would be considered wasted effort—all you need is one look in my dead—oh so very long dead—eyes and you know.

I don't ask—"Wasted Effort"—what you had named your son. Because, I think that I might slip and say "Our Son" and that would be a mistake. Just like you had clearly said to me seven months ago, --"The child is an Uchiha, which you will never be, and that child is mine."—so I wait, hoping that you will speak soon.

"Uchiha Taro, meaning first born son will be the name of my son." That's all you say to me and I nod.

Anything else would be wasted effort. You will not speak to me, I failed at having a perfect labor, I endangered your child's life, the child that means more to you than I ever will, so, there is no reason for you to speak to me.

"You nearly died." I look away, I don't think I am as prepared to take this now…

"You nearly kill my child" I can hear you move closer.

"You nearly died." You already said that—wasted effort—please stop coming closer to me.

"You almost made me worry about my child" I close my eyes, holding back the tears—All of the wasted effort in crying you use could be focused on training and being stronger, Sakura—please I plead within my mind, I cannot have you any closer.

"Do you understand? How much effort I had wasted…"Please—I don't stop the tears from falling now—"Thinking of how hard it would be without you?"

No…

"Please…" murmuring, I know is not what I am supposed to do—"Speak up when you talk to me!"—But, you have no clue what you are doing to me now.

Your hand touches my cheek and forces me too look at you—and I look you in the eyes, I never disobey you—and your thumb rubs away a fallen tear.

"Will you be alright to walk with me?" your voice is cold and emotionless—even your eyes seem so dead to me—and I nod, not really knowing if I am well enough to walk but I do.

Pain is what I am told to endure, so, I will endure it long enough to satisfy you.

Your hand is on the small of my back, guiding me as I walk through the hospital halls. We reach an elevator and you walk me into it—the elevator is empty and a part of me thinks that you have something to do with it—pressing the button with the letter 4 the doors close.

We are quiet through the ride—which I am happy for—and you help me—surprisingly—into an empty wheelchair. I let my eyes close and I doze off—those stupid painkillers, I swear, but I shouldn't wasted effort—and the sound of the wheels on the chair are starting to become so very interesting to me.

I am not sure how long it takes—minutes, hours, seconds—and then we are in front of a door and a nurse comes out and then ushers us into the room. I look around slightly—but it is not the sight that gets me, it is the sound—but hear a soft cry. In the corner of the room is my—his—baby.

I allow myself a tear, and you; Sasuke pushes me closer to Taro.

The nurse walks out of the room—and I am not sure why, but I don't want her to leave—and you gently—so much more gentle then I have ever seen you—pick up the child and bring him into my arms.

The child looks up at me—such bright green eyes—and I let another tear fall.

"I believe," and my most precious moment is shattered, "That it is appropriate for the mother to hold her child first"

But, tears—so much crying—are falling and you should be chastising me.

You come and kneel beside me, I look into your eyes and I am crying so much harder now. Your hand reaches—and I try so very hard not to flinch—and I flinch ever so slightly. You recoil but try again and this time you are caressing my cheek again.

"Do you know…" your voice is still hard and cold, "How much effort I would waste.." I know what is going to happen next…

"Just to make sure that you are still with me?"

Your words strike me, your words are so loving—why are you so loving now—and you kiss my temple and I realize something…

Loving you and being everything you wanted me to be—going through all of this pain—is not as much a wasted effort as I thought.

And I wonder if you feel the same.

FIN

Okay, I don't like the ending, but I do like the story.

If you did not get it, Sasuke married Sakura for a child. When they finally got married he acted cold to her and shaped her to be the perfect wife and mother. And during childbirth she nearly dies of blood loss and Sasuke after having his son born realizes that he needs her and that if he lost her it would shatter his very being. He then takes her to see their son and tells her the truth, that he would waste all of the time in the world just to see her happy.