Title: Clandestine

Prompt: July 26th / Loss

Note: I'm rather happy with this piece.

Summary: This is intimate and of what she witnesses she can never tell.

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She sits in the car, staring at the house for a good five minutes before she finally unbuckles her belt.

"I'll tell her."

Not like there was much choice in the first place. Sasuke is incapable of handling situations like these, despite his own first-hand experience. Swallowing, she steps out and onto the sidewalk, trotting up the short path to the door.

A quick rap and she buries her hands in her pocket, shivering slightly despite the warm breeze. Inside, she can hear the distant sounds of footsteps and yelling before the door quickly opens and a harried woman looks out at her.

"Hello?"

It's an awkward moment and she brushes it off with a short smile. "I'm from the Konoha police department. I'm here about your daughter."

For the briefest moment, there is a flicker of hope on that face. It passes when she notices how quiet Sakura is, the lack of daughter behind her. Suddenly the mother looks older, more tired, as though each stain on her apron and the ladle in her hand is too heavy for her to bear.

"Oh." The mother moves back, out of the way and leaving the front hallway empty. "Come in."

-x-

Of what goes on in that room, of what words were spoken, Sakura could never tell. Not even to Sasuke. It's impossible to repeat the sobriety of the scene, the quiet that pervaded each pore until she felt like an onlooker to the scene.

It's a very intimate knowledge she has, to be privy to someone's grief. There's vulnerability and anger and a hollow understanding that your world is one less now. An almost perverse feeling overcomes her, for this is not something she should be witness to.

She leaves the house with the taste of smoke and salt on her tongue.

-x-

It's dark when she emerges from the house, her notes in her hand. The moon is hidden and for once she's glad for the cigarette that hangs limply in Sasuke's hand. Glowing a faint red, she can almost make out his face as he leans against the car, his hand raised to take another drag.

"She didn't add much." Her voice sounds stronger than she feels. Death is something she can face, something she has faced, but not this. Not the ragged gasp of life, the single wail of death that comes from the survivors.

"They found another body."

She starts at that, staring up at him. He remains silent, exhaling softly. A stream of smoke escapes his lips.

"There's also a tip of where a third is."

Gritting her teeth, she turns away. There's no time to waste. "You drive."

Before she can get in the car, he drops a hand on her shoulder. Gripping her shoulder firmly, it anchors her. She relaxes slightly and closes her eyes.

These moments were private in a different way.

"Let's get the bastard. I'm not doing this again."