A/N: I'm guilty of neglecting the fandom…whatever I prefer bleach and Sakura has no point yet. If she ends up killing Sasuke I might consider watching when it becomes animated.

It's not that I have something against the guy, which I do; its that Sakura is virtually useless to the actual plot as much as I love her. So I know she was created for something.

Mood music: You Wanna Make a Memory by Bon Jovi

Of Reality and Memories

It wasnt pouring. And it wasnt cold. Nor was it poetically anticlimactically sunny. On the contrary it was warm and drizzling and instead of poetic it made my skin chaff against my clothes and itch.

It wasn't the kind of night you'd expect anything actually important or interesting to happen in a movie or book but it was exactly the type that it would happen in reality. Because the truth is that reality doesn't give a shit about the weather so any day anything could happen. Morons.

I stood on top of an electric pole-which admittedly wasn't the smartest place to be when it was raining- in the center of the city, letting the drizzle slowly but surely drench me as I looked out over the virtually empty streets. Only a few stragglers ducking into a store or stoop were left loitering.

My mission in this pathetic little town was done yet I couldn't find it within myself to leave.

I chocked it up to exhaustion.

Leaping to the ground I searched around me for a potential haven. A dumpy bar caught my eye. Warmth and booze; who was I to refuse?

As soon as I was under the cover of an actual roof I pulled my hair in front of me and wrung it out before stepping around the puddles left by the leaks in the ceiling and sat myself down at the bar.

I felt like a drowned rat and reminded myself to never ever sit out in the rain (even if it was just a drizzle) for more than an hour.

I pulled out my fake ID, slammed it onto the counter, feeling inexplicably depressed and demanded the strongest stuff they had.

"You sure you can handle that stuff Missy?" the bartender asked condescendingly.

"Watch me," I snapped viciously taking a swig. "I can drink you under the table any day." He didn't argue.

I drank in silence until that fucking bitch Fate decided she was bored and that we hadn't had a playdate in a while.

The stool beside me scraped against the linoleum floor, making god-awful screeching noises.

I tried, I really did. I tried not to look at him. Knowing I wasn't mistaken, knowing that I knew that chakra signature like the back of my hand.

"Sakura," he acknowledged, never looking at me. I wondered if I was dreaming, it was too easy.

I pinched myself; nope, inebriated but awake.

He didn't seem to know why he was here anymore that I did. That pissed me off.

So I did what I always do in an awkward situation. I laughed. Hard. I'm sure everyone in the general vaccinity including Sasuke thought I was utterly imbalanced…which was probably true but they didn't need to know about my crazy yet.

"Hn," he scoffed, "What is your problem?" he demanded. "It isn't the least bit funny."

I wiped a tear from my eye, noticing for the first time that I was crying. "No…no it really isn't." I paused, thinking on what I wanted to say next and how I was going to phrase it. "It's just that after all this time; all the blood and tears shed over you. And not just by me, you have the audacity," I was surprised by my eloquence while drunk. It's a good thing to know about. "to waltz right in here, not even knowing yourself what you want."

He didn't say anything, he simply raised the glass to his lips and downed it all. The bartender (sexist bastard) filled it right up again.

"Screw you." I laughed again, hard and short, "What the hell do you want?"

"…I want to drink."

"and I want you to come home." I stole his glass, "-and that's not happening either is it?" he took my drink then and downed it too.

"What were you expecting Sakura?"

In all honesty I wasn't sure. I wasn't the little girl who had wanted a fairy tale life with a husband and kids and the whole shebang. I'd grown out of that. I wanted more now what I was older. I wanted to be strong, I wanted to be good and I for once wanted to fucking rest. But in that moment I wasn't really sure what I wanted from him. Because there was a time when it would have sufficed just to be around him. "Absolutely nothing. You're the one who came to me," I looked him in the eye then, "What were you expecting?"

"I'm not sure I know either." We were being civil, that was good. Strange and different but good.

"How about this;" I smiled softly but turned away and looked up at a crack in the ceiling that was leaking into a jug of ale and no doubt diluting it horribly and not only that infecting in with asbestos and who knows what else. "let's just see where the night takes us, hai?"

"Hai."

That night I made my first memory of him in years that didn't involve any daggers, blood, missions or tears.

It was a night I wouldn't trade for the world; where he talked and I talked and the unspoken was said.

The night ended with us shitfaced, staggering into his hovel of a hotel room, each gripping onto one form of reality and each other as hard as we could.

Nails scraped against flesh, sweat left a sheen on our bodies.

We were violent, angry and drunk. We'd lost our inhibitions even if for one night.

I'd like to tell you he came home with me after that. That when we returned to the village that was our home he looked me in the eye and told me he loved me. I'd love to tell you all that I told him the same back and that we lived happily ever after.

But reality doesn't work like that. And the truth is a bitch. And the truth was that I did love him…just not in the way I wanted to and thought I did. And the even more truthful; he didn't love me like that either.

I'm sure we felt something for each other. I like to think there was something that connected us that made me jump into bed with him but I honestly don't know and I'm not sure I ever will.

Reality strikes again: He's my friend. Through thick and thin and just as precious as Naruto even if he deserved it far less.

So I don't know if he'll ever come home or if that love I thought I felt will ever become true, but I do know that whatever happens will forever be really and truly real.

I take comfort in that.

So in the morning I woke first and slipped out into the early dawn knowing he wouldn't remember but never ever wishing I would forget.

Because that night I made a memory.