He'd kept his promise.
He'd come home—just not the way she'd wanted him to.
Someone must have cleaned him in the field, because she's there when they bring his body in, clean and pale, in the morgue, touching his icy skin, kissing his icy lips, screaming at his icy ears.
"You selfish bastard, you were supposed to come back alive! We were supposed to be married and live together and be open and tell everyone together and…and…how is it going to look when I take your death harder than anyone else?! You left me to face this alone! I have to raise our child alone…now…"
Her voice fails her and she collapses to her knees, sobbing so hard she shakes—with pain, with fury, with the hatred she wants to feel toward him but can't summon because she just loves him too damn much and she can't blame him, really, for dying—he accepted and understood and embraced the risks but she thought—no, knew, dammit, she knew that he kept himself alive for her and—
Warm arms slide around her waist from behind, warm hands grasp her wrists, warm weights press against her sides, warm voices fill her ears.
Everyone she loves in one room. Naruto hugs her from behind, Ino has her wrists, pulled forward into her chest and petting her friend's pink hair, Yamato/Tenzou (because she could never figure out which to call him, but she thinksit will be "Tenzou" now, because that's what her lover had called him) and Sai (who really doesn't know what he's doing exactly, just that this girl offered him warmth when all he knew was coldness, and he now he returns it, because that is what friends do) lean against her sides, offering their strength. Tsunade, Shizune, Hinata, Lee. There are more people, but the tears blur them away.
"Sakura, did you really think we hadn't realized?"
That's Tsunade's question.
She can't manage words through the tears, so she says nothing.
And the warm presences of her living loved ones serves only to thrust the knife of the absence of her most dear one in deeper, even though he's right there and she can see him touch him taste him but he's coldcoldcold and deadgone and no matter how hard she tries she can't bring him back and ohgod it hurts.
Because she fell for him, and when she falls, she falls hard nothing left out all pure all true allallall and passionate and consuming and no, hereallyisgone notcomingback.
Where has his voice gone? His heat?
It leaves the prison of her throat with a brutal tearing sound, like her very soul is wailing its protest.
No one says anything.
No words. Silent comfort.
No tears.
It rains the day they bury him.
The clouds cry for them. Lashes out in anger.
Cold gray skies. Lightning. Thunder.
She swears she sees him silhouetted against the lightning, hears him in the thunder.
He visits her at night sometimes.
No words.
Silent comfort.
Sorry, the angst bug bit me last night, listening to Comatose. I don't think I'll be able to work on The Promise, for those of you waiting for updates. I'm sorry, but I'm in over my head with the sobsob stuff and it doesn't look like there's an end in sight; I don't want any angsty Promise chapters because it's too fluffiness.
I know I switch styles a lot, and that it drags towards the end, and I apologize for that, I really do. But it's stuck. Let me know what you think, please.
XO
--Wolfie-lou