/CH-6/
It was so novel an experience to see Gaara,..no the Kazekage, making tea, that Sakura forgot the rightful surge of indignation and mock outrage – to cover up her embarrassment- that followed once Gaara had reached his suite, motioned for her to sit and proceeded to the open kitchen, of all places.
Apart from a flummoxed nod on Gaara's polite query of "Jasmine?", Sakura had yet to say something, anything to fill the overbearing silence. Perhaps, she should apologise to Gaara, for the inconvenience, probably make light of what had happened at the bridge, offer her thanks and leave. And go..where? To whom? Despite the absence of trivial conversation, Sakura appreciated the fact that Gaara refused to put her under microscopic scrutiny, or worse still, offer pity. And yet, his astute countenance prickled her. What would he do next? Hand insights into her situation? Perhaps a quid pro quo session with her green-eyed saviour would heal her, she thought bitterly. A relatively sane part of her mind scoffed at her, even as a disbelieving chuckle left her lips. They made little sense to her- her actions, Gaara's actions, Sasuke's actions.
She felt alternate hot and cold flashes, felt them seep through her bones and wake up the part inside that desperately wanted to retaliate, to hurt and still, even after all this, ask why.
Once she was graciously handed that aromatic cup of herbal tea, Sakura felt hot,tiny pins stabbing her eyes. She choked back on a sob and hurriedly moved her gaze to Gaara's very own, fearing the contempt, the pity ...that weren't there. The calm in his gaze eroded her paper-thin barriers.
For the first time, she cried for lost opportunities, for dashed hopes, for herself.
For the last time, she cried for a person who would never cry for her.
Sakura woke up disoriented, but the unfamiliar carved ceiling cleared her haze quickly. When she recognized the guest suite, she relaxed..and then tensed again. A swift chakra sweep declared the suite vacant; a cursory glance brought into focus a curt note, more ordering than asking, her to rest and eat well. Make use of the spare key as per your convenience.
That's when she noticed the heart-shaped shortcake and the key dangling with a panda forming the key chain. Who knew. Temari and Kankuro were crazier than Gaara. Despite herself, she grinned. That grin stayed only until her short trip to the living room. It eased into a blush when she recalled how she'd clung to Gaara as she cried, how he'd tensed for a moment before clasping her to himself, murmuring sweet nothings till her shudders subsided. She'd swear that she hadn't just imagined the brush of cool lips on her temple as she'd collapsed into an exhausted sleep after her draining outpour. As she left the suite with her key in hand, she was unaware of the radiance of her demeanour, the lightness in her step.
Meanwhile...
A harangued Naruto oversaw the repair and reconstruction of a demolished bridge in the Konoha central district, with a smirking Temari and a stoic Gaara for company.