*A/N: This chapter is for the first day of ShikaTema week 2016 :) Enjoy!*

It was foolish of her to have left her fan at home. It was foolish of her to have left without sending a letter to her brothers. It was foolish of her to have expected anything but the shake of a head coupled with an "I'm sorry". And while she knew it was foolish, futile even, to hope for his recovery, she continued to wait.

From the uncomfortable chair, she had the opportunity to interact with every soul in Konoha who seemed to have heard the news.

Ino hurried in at noon, a bumbling mess (one of the nurses probably believed Ino to be the "poor soul who will lose her husband within weeks of their marriage", what with her streaming torrent of tears), and after giving a Temari a comforting - and extremely wet - hug, she rushed into the surgery room. In that moment, Temari had to admit that she was angry at Ino; she wanted nothing more than to barge through that maddening door and make sure he was fine. Or maybe it was just an urge to punch that idiot for being so careless.

Chouji, bless him, brought her food, despite the fact that she probably wouldn't have been able to eat anything at the moment. He said nothing and sat next to her for a while until Karui led him away with an apologetic smile.

Naruto, being the rambunctious fool he was, crashed and shoved and shouted his way in, demanding to see the patient, threatening the nurses with his hokage status (which no one really took seriously, on account of his silly behavior), until he finally broke down crying. While Temari appreciated his concern, she began to seriously contemplate the best way to knock him out without leaving any lasting injuries. Hinata finally managed to lead him away before Temari kicked the man out of the village.

She sat there, waiting and listening, accepting everyone's "condolences" and "sympathies" in her usual tense fashion. She once heard someone say to their friend that she did not seem like a very nice person, to which the other replied that she must not love her husband. Temari was very tempted to punch the one who dared to imply that she did not love him. Him. The one she has been with through war, oppositions, family matters, and the one whom she should be with for the rest of her miserable life as well. Yes, she wanted to hurt the fool who insulted her so badly, but she did not. No, how could she? That fighting part of her, the lively, vibrant part of her, had already fled her body when her partner, the man she pledged her life to, entered surgery.

Finally, finally, after a long time passed, the doors (the very ones she had been wanting to kick down for the last hour) opened. Sakura, looking as though she'd fought in the War again, walked up to her and gave a tired smile.

Temari simply closed her eyes for a second, then bowed to the medic in front of her. Sakura (who knew Temari enough to understand that this was the deepest form of respect the kunoichi could show her) grinned.

Ino, who had been assisting Sakura for the entire time, nudged Temari toward the door.

"He's been waiting for you, I think," she said softly.

During her twelve hour wait in the hospital, Temari had imagined all sorts of situations. Most scenarios involved her pummeling her husband (I heard it wasn't the mission that killed him, but the "warm welcome" he received from his wife afterwards); some involved her breaking down and passionately kissing him (which was solely for her entertainment and scorn, because honestly, she would rather face Kaguya than dissolve into a blubbering fool); and others, she tried to stay away from (who would want to imagine the death of their partner?).

But now that the moment arrived, she hesitated. Would his face be marred in an exact replica of his father's? Would he have some disability that would forever end his ninja days (although he himself, the lazy ass, might enjoy that)? Would he still be the boy she fought in the chuunin exam, the one who vowed to be the hokage's advisor, the man she chose as her partner in creating the new generation?

She entered the room.

He was lying in the bed by the window, which was now illuminated by the moon.

He was on his back, mouth slightly parted, a stubble appearing on his pointy chin.

His arm was in a cast, his legs obscured by the white sheets, and his neck was slightly red (the enemy's fire jutsu, she later discovered).

Shikamaru was - oh, what a glorious word - breathing.

And for the first time in what seemed like ages, Temari started to breathe again.