Fire Upon Leaf
By: WhisperedSilvers
Prompt: "You build walls I can't knock down."
Summary: Confidence erodes with fear. —Sakura/Shikamaru
She inhales.
She doesn't smile when he realizes he can breathe again, it is far from safe and far from all right—the air in the room is thinner. Her chakra melds in blue not green, she is desperate, the wound that scabs with beige and not dark brown—it's not clotting properly and she can't be anxious, because she isn't useful and she isn't meticulous when she is apprehensive.
He inhales wetly, she can hear the blood that clouds his lungs, and she moves her chakra burning hand and presses deeper into his ribcage, her chakra sealing the thin walls of his lungs. They need to prepare for surgery she concludes, the blood isn't attacking his lungs like it did twenty minutes ago, it sits there waiting for further instructions.
"Shin, I need an IV refill. Prepare for surgery in the next hour, Have Shizune on standby." Sakura's words are cold and clinical. She doesn't care; she needs to get out of the damn room.
"Of course, Dr. Haruno."
And that is all that needs to be said.
She walks out of the room, pulling down her surgery mask so she can breathe in the clean, sterile air from the hospital walls.
"How is he?" Shikamaru asks, faithful, kind Shikamaru is still there, even after six hours; his eyes are weary, tired, but darker than the soot that clouds her patient's lungs.
"Stable," Sakura is curt and to the point, "We'll know after the surgery—one hour. They need an hour to prepare."
He doesn't hesitate when he pulls her into his arms and she doesn't flinch nor shy away. He smells fresh, like earth and clean water. He is warm, and she tries to breathe him in. She wants the warmth, the embrace of safety and tranquility. She does not shake, not anymore.
It's for a moment she tells herself, she pulls herself away from him. He can't help her, she knows that he can't help her; she has to put herself together and gather the will to focus. He feels helpless, because he wants to something—sometimes she thinks she can't do anything.
It comes down to the matter of chance; the logistics and the chances don't look like their anything along the lines of hopeful. She has to try, she knows that and Shikamaru drops a kiss onto the crown of her head—it gives her hope, and as nice as that is, she needs something stronger.
"You can do it." It's not the words that have her standing straighter, her eyes clearer and her mouth that presses into a forced line. It's the commanding, finality, known as confidence—it makes her feel invincible.
Shikamaru's hair is spiked into his usual ponytail; his eyes are dark and strong. She feels less helplessness, and more of something that's stable and sturdy. He isn't slouching, it's like he's the one going to fight the battle.
She feels kind of silly.
"I know," Sakura speaks blankly, her fists are tight, a white knuckled-grip that digs crescent-moons into her palm.
He cracks a grin and it's like starlight that dances in her smile.
"I'll be right here."
She repeats, "I know."
An hour passes by without her consent; she's back in the operating room.
Sakura looks back at his chart. It's a fairly complex poison, she had Shikamaru analyze and breakdown the compounds, whilst she was slowing down the process of the enzymes and platelets that decides to spontaneously combust, making his blood a lot more thicker than she needed it to be.
She looks over Shikamaru's math; one of the compounds had too much oxygen and mercury—lethal. Another counterpart had too much zinc—causing the platelets to disperse in his blood—and copper metal that wore a hole in his lungs. Her husband broke down the compounds once again, trying to group the bonds and the DNA sequence.
He has a list of possible symptoms on one side and it makes her want to scream—it's only a few symptoms that affect her patient—it's not making any sense!
She has to breathe.
She doesn't have time.
Sakura focuses her chakra into the mid-section of her palm, the chakra pulses in waves, it flickers for a bit, from strong and steady to weak and fumbling—focus. She has the medics make her herbal concoction—magnetic to metals; the leftover oxygen should give him enough air without needing a breathing mask.
Her hand glides over the herbal concoction—lavender, mint and aloe—along with the chemicals that are harmless to blood. Picking up the bubble of herbs, she motions for the medics to hold him down, he gasps, and yelps—doesn't open his eyes. She presses the burning liquid into him—focusing on collecting the metal, extracting it and then pulling it out.
"Again."
They hand her another basin.
It goes on for some time.
The surgery is over and she is tired. Her patient is breathing fine, his skin his brighter, not the sickly ashen color that he had earlier. He should make a full recovery, the poison has left his bloodstream, his lungs are healed, but the scar of the poison dart will be on his left arm forever.
Shizune is running rounds; she asks if she wants to be relieved of her duties, she shakes her head. Sakura is off shift, but then again, she is never off-shift. Shikamaru is now in the room with her and she leans against his shoulder. Her patient needs to wake up soon, the surgery finished an hour ago, but it feels like it's been days.
It's true that she puts too much stress on herself—she couldn't help it.
Naruto and Hinata visit.
An hour later, Kakashi and Sai comes too.
Ino and Chouji comes an hour later too.
Its nearing dusk and Sakura can't help, but feel the anxiety. It's dark, with the purple sky looking more like winter, and darker clouds with threads of cobalt streaming in the sky, the sun saffron and gold.
Three hours.
It's been three hours.
There is a strange gurgling sound, a groan and a choked breath. It's clearer than the one he had earlier, but she ignores it and shoots up along with Shikamaru.
Green eyes meet hers, and it's a lazy drawl that has Shikamaru sigh in relief.
Koji grins sheepishly, "Hey Mom, Dad."
She exhales.
Koji: Little one.
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