**I do not own "Naruto" or any related characters**

The shinobi looked at the pink haired kunoichi sitting on the couch near him. She had lost so much. A few years back, it was Sasuke when he attacked the village. After him it was her sensei, Kakashi; he had died when Akatsuki came after Naruto in full force. Even the man they replaced Sasuke with had died. He vaguely remembered it had something to do with an organization called "Root." And now… He had been all she had left. It was unthinkable that he could really be gone. The knuckle head ninja had seemed indestructible, simply due to his refusal to give up or give in.

Naruto had been on a mission with ANBU in Grass. Of course they would never know the details of the mission or what went so terribly wrong, but they were told that the entire team had been wiped out. He had heard that the battlefield was so destroyed they could not even find Naruto's remains. Well that wasn't completely true; they had been able to find his blood stained forehead protector. It had been given to Sakura at his funeral.

The entire village and a bunch of people from all across the Five Great Nations came to mourn him. Naruto would have been happy to learn that so many people came to respect him, to love him. It was evident that day that many were pained by his death. Hinata had been a sobbing mess. Tsunade hit the sake with ferocity attempting to numb the hurt. Even those who hardly ever showed emotion succumbed to tears. Shikamaru had let his tears fall freely. He remembered Choji trying to comfort Ino, both sobbing softly. Neji had even said how unfair the whole thing was; it was Naruto's destiny to be Hokage, to live, but the unthinkable happened. It was obvious though that none had loved him more than she. She was perhaps the only one to hold back her tears. But still her pain was nearly palpable as she stood still as stone at her best friend's funeral.

"Thanks for pulling me out of the rain, Kiba" Sakura broke the silence that had lingered over them and pulled him out of his memories.

"No problem," the hound-nin looked down into his mug. He couldn't help but notice she was still shivering. "Maybe you should get out of those wet clothes," he suggested gently.

Sakura seemed to be pulled back to reality. "Oh, yeah." She rose and disappeared to her bedroom.

He sipped his tea quietly in her absence. It was hard to believe that the creature before him was the same adorable, cheerful, lively girl he had known since his days at the Academy. Was that girl lost forever? He pondered these things as he looked into his mug. She returned, clad in baggie flannel pants and a sweatshirt at least two sizes too big for her frame. She sat across from him on her couch. Her gaze wandered to the streams of rain slipping down her window. She stared blankly off into the wet world outside.

"It's not fair you know." Her voice was devoid of emotion, as blank as the gray clouds above. "I finally came to my senses about him. We were falling so wonderfully in love. We had the real thing. He even teased that he was going to marry me too, after he became Hokage of course. I don't see why he had to be taken away from me too. I know I sound so selfish." He sat there listening intently to her. She was releasing the hurt slowly. "Part of me still believes it isn't true, that he's alive somewhere and we'll be together again." Finally her voice began to break. Pools of water formed in her soft green eyes. "I don't know if I can do this without him. What do I do? How am I supposed to live without him? I've lost everyone. He meant so much to me." Fear crept into her eyes. She looked exactly like a toddler whose security blanket had been snatched away: bewildered, scared, exposed, completely vulnerable. Kiba took a moment and just looked at her. Why did God see it fit to put this angel through hell? Sakura began to shake softly; instinctively the young man reached out to her. He took her into his arms and let her cry. The young woman's hands clutched onto his shirt; she buried her head into his chest. Gently he rubbed her back, attempting to comfort her. She curled up into him; he let her sink into him. Mumbled words of agony tumbled from her soft lips.

"Shhh. I'm here. I've got you." He whispered in her ear. She cried herself to sleep in his arms. He dared not move for fear of waking her. He rested his head against high back of the chair. His thoughts swirled within his mind. He was angry, sad, confused, and numb all at the same time. He could only imagine what she was going through. He looked down on the girl curled up in his arms. At least she could escape in sleep; she could dream of happier times. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable in his arms. He had never really taken the time to realize just how beautiful she was. She was stunning even in sleep. Her long dark lashes gently closed over her enchanting green eyes. Her lips parted slightly as she slept. He smiled; nothing less than an angel lay in his arms right now. He would do everything in his power to protect and comfort her. The small, broken angel had found a guardian to watch over her as her broken wings healed.

The woman in his arms stirred lightly. She was probably uncomfortable scrunched up as she was. He debated momentarily as to what to do. Slowly and without waking her, the shinobi shifted his hold on her and rose from the chair. He carried her into her room and lay her down gently on the bed and covered her with a nearby blanket. The sleeping figure stretched in appreciation. He quietly cleaned up their tea mugs. He jot down a quick note and turned to leave the apartment.

He took a final look at the sleeping kunoichi before leaving her to her peaceful reprieve. "You should never have had to experience this. I know I could never fully understand your pain, your loneliness. Wish as hard as I might, I cannot make it all just go away," he clenched his fists as he spoke half to himself, half to her. It was torture to know he was completely unable to fix it, to dry her tears. "But this I can do," he continued, "I will be here, whenever you need. Anything you need, just name it- even if it's just standing in the rain with you." His voice trailed off. He desperately wished he could do more. He longed to save her from this hell, but he could not. His head dropped in defeat. "Sweet dreams, Sakura."

Sakura tentatively stretched her sore limbs. It was incredible how emotional pain could translate to physical pain. She rolled herself over attempting more sleep. Her stomach let out a low rumble. How long had she been asleep that she was now hungry? Blindly, she groped for her clock. Reluctantly Sakura opened her eyes to check the time; she had been asleep for a few hours now. It was indeed time for dinner. She frowned. She did not want to deal with cooking tonight. Maybe Ichiraku delivered, she thought wishfully.

Sakura reluctantly wiggled out of the safety of her bed. She sat on the edge and pondered her choices for dinner. Kiba had obviously slipped out when she was asleep. He was certainly being compassionate and helpful, but he was no Naruto. Naruto always seemed to know the right thing to say or do to make her feel better. He knew her so well, so completely. She doubted if anyone else would ever come to know her as deeply. Would she even allow herself to open up that much again? A surge of loneliness crashed upon her. Tears began to well up anew.

She was alone in her room. She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. She felt numb, physically, emotionally. Pictures adorned her walls. She need not look up at them, she knew those pictures by heart. The pair at the Ichiraku, the ramen shop where they had their first date—they had most of their dates there actually. A sunny spring day down by the river. The summer matsuri where he won her a tiny goldfish. The two of them playing in the snow on one of Konoha's rare snow days. And of course, her faded picture of Team 7. Naruto's smile weighed heavily on her heart. The pictures would need to come down; she would not be able to have his smiling face around her without breaking down into sobs.

She mechanically removed the pictures. She could not put them away for good just yet. Her desk was basically clutter-free, so she gently composed them into a pile atop it. The young woman retreated back to the security and warmth of her blanket. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms about her legs. She was alone-desperately alone.