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Chapter 3: Venting

The blow sent him reeling backwards to a nearby tree. He grunted as the bark bit sharply into his back, sending a shot of pain up his spine. For a split second, he remained slumped against the tree, shocked by the sheer strength of her tiny, ineffectual—at least he'd thought it was—fist.

Then anger coursed through him and he straightened, his hand instantly flying to the kunai he'd always kept at his side. He should have known this was coming; their confrontation was inevitable. But he hadn't expected it to be so soon. He hadn't been having a good day; he'd woken up with a pounding headache and a cold flush that he hadn't been able to shake off, and Sakura's sudden fist-happy episode wasn't helping. She'd caught him off guard. He didn't like it.

Quite frankly, he was pissed.

He crouched into a fighting position, his shoulders tensed for attack. Black eyes narrowed with warning as they met fiery green orbs.

"What," he growled, "the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She was breathing hard through her nose, her arms crossed at the wrists in her own battle stance. She returned his glare, fury radiating from every pore. Finally, she was going to voice the thoughts that had been plaguing her since she came to.

"Why did you save me?" she demanded heatedly. "Why did you buy this place? AND WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU COME BACK?"

He stepped away from the tree, kunai held firmly in his hand. His Sharingan whirled wildly, his handsome face red with anger. "Did you rather I leave you there for the animals to tear apart?" he yelled back. "Would you have rather died?"

"That's not what I meant, Sasuke, and you know it!" she snapped. She held her hands up beseechingly, eyes filled with desperation. "I've looked around the house and it's beautiful. I can't come up with any reason why you would want to leave it—and that scares me to death."

There was a lump in her throat and her heart pounded rapidly inside her chest. "Why didn't you come back, Sasuke?" she asked in a harsh whisper. "We never gave up on you, but this—the house, your land, everything—tells me that you have. My God, I want to murder you! Don't you know how much you've hurt us? Naruto . . . even if you never cared about me, what about him? He waited for you. We waited for you. We've been waiting for you for ten years. Ten years!"

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he remained silent.

Sakura drew in a shaky breath, biting on her trembling bottom lip. She looked away, blinking rapidly against the sharp sting in her eyes. "You know," she rasped, "honestly, I'd rather you hadn't saved me. At least then, I would still have hope that you were coming back. What am I going to tell Naruto?"

Sasuke clenched his teeth. "You tell him nothing," he spat.

"That's it? You're really not coming back?"

He didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. She watched as he deactivated his blood limit and pocketed his weapon, his face still somewhat flushed. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and for the first time since his abandonment, she knew there was nothing left to say. The painful knot in her chest tightened and she wanted to find a safe place to hide and cry until her tear ducts emptied.

No, her inner voice objected. No. She was no longer the little girl who could do nothing but weep. She was a kunoichi.

She wouldn't give up.

She took a determined step toward him, noting the way his shoulders tensed. "Sasuke," she said beseechingly. "I—I know you've killed Itachi—"

"Don't," he interrupted, his tone rising. He whirled around to look at her and she could see the red whirls reappearing in his coal-black eyes. His voice was so cold, it frightened her.

"Don't," he repeated. "Don't say his name."

She held her ground. "Stop it," she pleaded. "Stop this. Don't you see it, Sasuke? You're still living in his shadow. Kami, let him go already. I know you've killed him. I know you've avenged your clan. I know—"

"You know nothing!" he roared, his voice echoing throughout the clearing.

He moved so suddenly, he was less than a blur. Before she could barely blinked, she was stumbling back, the gleaming tip of his kunai held firmly at her delicate throat.

He stood in front of her, so closely she could feel his hot breath on her cheek, smell the faint hint of soap he used. Her pulse raced madly, her green orbs large with fear as she looked up at his red face. "Itachi—"

"Don't you speak his name," he spat furiously. "You know nothing, Sakura. You think you got me all figured out, but you don't. You see a lonely, pathetic boy who needs to be saved, but I don't need to be saved—especially not from a weakling like you."

Her breathing hitched. "That's not true," she choked out.

His eyes flashed unsympathetically. "It is true. What, do you think just because you can break a couple of mountains, you're a hero now? Get over yourself, Sakura, you're merely Konoha's bitch. You're the pathetic one, Sakura. You always were and you always will be."

She bit back a sob, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.

He smirked cruelly. "No comeback? No more wisdom to share?"

She drew away her hand, rubbing away the tears from her eyes. "Sa-Sasuke," she stuttered, "sit down."

He frowned at the sudden change. "What?" he barked in confusion.

"Sit down, you idiot."

It was the last thing he heard before he felt the ground beneath him slip away and darkness took over completely.

The arrogant bastard had a raging fever.

Sakura glared at the unconscious, prone form as his shaky pants filled the air. She'd carried him into his bedroom, infinitely grateful for her super strength because, Kami, he was heavy

Among other things, she thought ungraciously.

Naruto, she decided firmly, had had it right all along. Sasuke was a bastard. After the hateful things he'd said to her, she should just leave him alone. She should just take her pathetic medical skills and let him fight the fever alone.

But it wasn't a normal fever. After making a quick check on him, she'd discovered that he had somehow contracted some of the poison that had previously attacked her. But unlike hers, the amount of dangerous toxin in his system wasn't as high or life-threatening, and would, she believed, gradually disappear. Therefore, she didn't need to heal him, the stupid jerk.

She stood over him, torn between leaving him with several souvenirs on his face courtesy of a marker pen and her natural instincts as a doctor. After being so cruel to her, he didn't deserve her help.

But he had helped her. Without owing her anything, he had helped her. Regardless of what he thought of her, he hadn't turned away and left her for dead in the middle of the forest.

She let out a long sigh and decided to look for her backpack, where she kept her medical supplies.

But first. She smiled deviously and went in search for a pen.

His fever didn't last long, especially aided by her healing chakra. By late evening the next day, Sasuke woke up with a dry throat and clammy skin, feeling slightly lightheaded. His head turned on the pillow to see Sakura sitting next to the bed, her eyes watchful, her face carefully void of emotion. It was the first time he had seen her so indifferent and it was strangely jarring.

He swallowed, grimacing at the slight difficulty of it. Silently, she passed him a glass of water.

He took a small sip, blinking to clear away the fog of sleep from his eyes. "Did you poison me?" he asked groggily after taking a sip.

An impatient frown crossed her pretty features and she rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sasuke, I did," she answered sarcastically. "I poisoned you in the hope that after I saved you from a fatal disease, you would fly into my arms with gratitude and love."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "I knew you had it in you."

Sakura chuckled softly, oddly pleased with their light—and unusual—banter. She ran her gaze over his blanket-clad form, searching for any disturbance in his chakra. "How do you feel?" she asked quietly.

"Like I just had a fever."

She snorted. "Actually, I did poison you." At his questioning look, she elaborated, "You must have had a small cut on your hand when you took care of me. My blood entered your system, bringing in a little bit of the poison the enemy-nin gave me. It was a tiny dose, which is why it took so long to affect you. It was hardly life-threatening, but it did prompt the fever."

He frowned. "I didn't even notice it."

She clucked her tongue. "That's the beauty of it. To be honest, I'm glad you got some of the poison because I was able to replicate it. Now we have our own dangerous weapon."

"I'm glad to be of service," he snarked.

She let out a light laugh and reached for the semi-empty glass from his hand. He took the opportunity to look her over, noting that she was dressed in her own clothes. He glanced over her shoulder and saw the brown satchel placed by the door.

She followed his direction and sent him a brief smile. "I'm leaving at dawn," she declared. "I was just waiting for you to wake up."

He studied her face closely, silently wondering at the odd expression on her face. "You didn't have to stay," he said quietly.

"And you didn't have to save me." She smiled crookedly and shrugged. "But sometimes we do the things we don't have to, because sometimes—sometimes it's the right thing to do."

"Thank you," he mumbled.

This time, her smile was brittle and there was a hard edge in her voice as she spoke. "It was nothing. Even I could handle it."

He frowned, painfully aware of the twinge of guilt he felt. "Sakura, the things I said . . ."

"Don't," she interrupted curtly. She shook her head at him. "Don't apologize for what you feel."

She took a deep breath and slowly released it, pushing back her chair as she stood. "Maybe you were right," she admitted softly. "Maybe, subconsciously, there is a part of me that wants to be your savior. But I can't and honestly, I don't want to want to be your savior." She reached out to touch his shoulder briefly. "I hate to admit it, but perhaps we've been wrong all this while. You don't owe us anything, Sasuke. I—I hope you can find peace here, Sasuke, I really do. Please don't worry—I won't tell anyone you're here. I'll leave by first light in the morning."

He nodded tersely. He should be glad that she was leaving, that his life would return to normal and he would no longer carry around the confusion of emotions he'd had since he brought her here. She would go and he would return to his solitude, not having to answer the occasional silly questions or forced to make conversations during meals.

He should be pleased at the prospect of being alone.

He should.

He watched her turn to leave the room and felt his heart stuttered. Maybe, just maybe, he admitted to himself with great reluctance, she was partly right and he was somewhat lonely. In the days since she'd been here, even while she remained unconscious, he'd felt an odd sense of . . . comfort. She was loud and annoying and Kami, she still talked too much, but he'd liked that his house wasn't so silent anymore. She'd even begun to help wash the dishes and although he had to resist the urge to throw water at her as she prattled on while she dried the plates, he'd enjoyed the old feeling of being part of a team. A family.

He should let her leave. No good would come out of prolonging her stay. She was extremely talkative and could be overly emotional and she disturbed his normal balance. It was better for her to go. He should—

"Sakura."

She turned around, looking at him expectantly. "Yes?"

He stared at the ceiling above him for long moments. Finally, he spoke. "You don't have to leave so soon."

Her eyes widened and her heart began to thud painfully in her chest. She reached out and placed a hand on the door to steady her suddenly trembling knees. "Then," she whispered, and there was a quiver in her voice, "ask me to stay."

He made an impatient sound and glanced at her, his eyes darker than usual. "This won't change a thing," he declared curtly. "I won't go back."

Her hands curled into tight fists as she became overwhelmed by the intensity in his black orbs. "Say it, Sasuke," she rasped. "Give me that much, at least."

Silence filled the room for a long time, and when he at last spoke, his voice was so quiet, it was barely audible.

"Stay."

Her fingers tightened around the doorknob.

Sasuke sat by the open shouji, a blanket wrapped loosely around his bare shoulders. The sun had set, but there was enough moonlight to cast shadows on Sakura's slim figure as she stood under a tree, her pale pink hair gleaming in the dark.

He watched as her hands moved in a series of signals and then there was soft pop. Sasuke couldn't hear what she said to the knee-length slug, but a few minutes later, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

She turned around and spotted him. A small smile appeared on her face as she made her way across the backyard to him. "Did you manage to get everything off?" she said teasingly, gesturing at his face.

He scowled and gingerly touched his cheek, which he'd nearly rubbed to raw to wash off the doodles she'd made. "How long do you have?" he asked, ignoring her laughter.

"A week," she answered. "And don't worry—I made sure the message is untraceable."

She sat down next to him, gracefully folding her legs underneath her. He glanced at her. "A week," he echoed.

"Yeah. I couldn't ask for more without raising suspicions. As it is, I've been gone too long."

He nodded and his gaze moved away to study to the night clouds. A week. They had a week. He didn't know what would happen, nor did he expect anything to happen. But a week was enough. Maybe, just maybe it would be enough to repair any damage that had long been done between them.

He wouldn't ask for more.

To be continued