It was the type of day that had people running for shade to get away from the hot sun only to find that the almost-cool breeze under the trees could offer no escape from the air saturated with humidity. But that didn't stop them from trying it anyway. Well, her. He'd just been dragged along. She had been positive the ice cream would help. So she had told him and so he had further protested before giving up at her insistence and followed behind.

As he'd known, their tree's shadow – large, though it was - would not give them the refuge she was seeking.

"I-I just wanted to thank you for…you know, the other day," she said sheepishly into her iced treat. Hearing no trademark hum – perhaps even sensing his confusion – she chanced a glance to her side at him. He was granting her some rare direct attention by way of one extremely compressed eyebrow. She could read it clearly as the grossly humid day: What?

Looking back into her lap with its cradled ice cream, she explained. "You know," she broke off to bring it up to her lips, "…for the bar…thingy," she whispered around a well timed lick.

His features fell, exasperated. "Sakura," he huffed out, fingers of one hand scratching at the hairs covering his neck, "that was over three months ago."

"Yeah…but I never really thanked you for it. Not really…" Her voice was almost…petulant. He was fairly certain he could see a slight pout under all that cream currently at her lips.

He sighed and shook his head. Honestly, if they hadn't talked about it until now, didn't she understand that nothing needed to be said? There were times where he just never thought he'd figure her out. Did women always dwell on things for so long? He thought it resolved long ago, as something understood between them. Apparently it had been bothering her for all this time.

"You weren't completely in control of yourself," he said in his way, sliding a side glance over his pages at her. "You should have known I wouldn't have held anything against you."

Her cheeks flushed. The statement 'should have known me better' was horribly transparent in his forgiving tone. She felt more the little school girl now for having been called on an old fault - one that ran back to her academy days - of dwelling on things past too much. She frowned into the frozen cream in her hands and tried to be angry at him rather than herself. But he paid her embarrassment no mind and went back to reading, his ears forever attuned to any forthcoming reply. She still had a lot to learn about him.

How the hell did he always manage to let slip her fury so easily? Damn that attitude of his! Damn his too nice…guyish-ness! She shook her head at the horrible train-wrecked thought. Unable to take her frustration out on such a kind person – a part of her mentally scoffed at that– she instead took a vicious bite of her treat.

Take that ice cream! Cha! Bastard cream!

It seemed things were back to the old routine. In, out; out; in. More out than in, really, where Kakashi was concerned. She…didn't understand the sudden urgent need for his skills; the seemingly overwhelming importance for a ninja of his level for this extended a period. Tsunade had really been running him hard for the better half of the year, especially so for the last few months. And she didn't know – didn't know if she wanted to know – if they were internally or externally originating missions. Was he off working for home or out 'improving' foreign relations? She'd be interested to see what his mission ranking tally was at now given all the activity these past four months.

She'd come to plea to Tsunade for his sake. She wasn't asking that he stop going on missions, just that they not be so close together… The signs of fatigue he'd been showing lately were beyond those a good night's sleep would remedy. She feared he was exhausting his body's limits. She didn't want any fatal encounter to have been preventable by only a few solid hours of sleep. Not only would his spirit be forever in unrest for the embarrassing death – she could see him moping around the village in his eternally ghostly form – but he would haunt her 'til her own end for not having intervened on his behalf.

While that was slightly amusing in its morbidity, there was a deeper vein of thought that gave her such unease. They were supposed to be together…together together. So why was it that they rarely saw each other? What was really going on that Hokage-sama kept him running about like that? There was obviously something behind the scenes but she didn't know how much stock to put into the direction it was likely to take. Her chest tightened every time she stopped to think about it. She was sure this couldn't be good. But she just had to hope that all this effort was worth it; that it could prevent something with all this scurrying about. She knew Kakashi was not the only ninja subjected to such activity, but she feared for him most.

And the thought that he was not alone in this undercover activity made her pause outside the Hokage's office. She stood with fingers wrapped around the handle, biting her lip in indecision. What right did she really have coming here to ask what she was going to, knowing others were being subjected to the same thing? She bit down harder and squeezed her eyes shut, knuckles whitening.

She didn't. She couldn't ask that Tsunade spare him the misfortunes others were put before. Her fingers slipped from the handle. She turned from the door, preparing her retreat. She would have to rethink her request. Yes. She would withdraw for now and more carefully analyze exactly what it was she thought about this whole scenario before self-righteously marching in to defend his honor only to rain down on her own parade with such insecurities.

She was only trying to look out for him, was all.

She guess she…just wanted to save him.

Like he always did for her.

He just gave her that woefully dorky blank look, hands stuffed in pockets and shoulders hunched, blinking slowly at her. What? What did she want? He'd just gotten back. There's no possible way he could have done anything to have upset her while only having been in the village for not even two hours. No way.

…Was there?

Why was she staring at him like that?

"Kakashi?"

He blinked. Such a timid voice. His eye narrowed. What was she up to?

"Hm?" he hummed, sliding cursory glances left and right before warily returning to her. He was only gathering information of possible impending ambush. This reeked like one of their old pranks to unmask him. When she didn't answer right away, he raised his brow at her. 'Yes?' it said in his place.

"…I think we really need to talk." Her body dropped all its insecurities and he straightened as her eyes grabbed his.

He blinked again as he gauged her. She was serious. Really serious. Something must have happened.

Was this the boiling point?

The weather had turned against them in their training field and with her ice cream long finished, they had decided to head their separate ways only to have the sky hastily remedy that and trap them under a tree with a torrent of rain. They had talked in the…relative dryness about what Tsunade had said, about some of their thoughts – as if Kakashi would reveal anything at all; about nothing, again. But things eventually come to a point that must be passed to determine the direction of the evolution in a relationship. And theirs hit that point this night. All the talk combined with the wet, the weather, their exhaustion, and the rollercoaster of emotions with the expectations of the now eleventh month old 'mission', her mental state got the better of them both and came bearing down. Mostly on him.

He didn't even remember which particular topic or response had triggered her temper, but he'd been aware of the steadily building tension that was now erupting before him. To say she was alone in her frustration would be a lie. He didn't lie. Truth was a convenience carefully omitted in some circumstances, but he despised lying. Yet there was equally and frighteningly growing aggravation on both sides and it pained him to know that some of it was mutually directed.

What was happening to them?

Was their friendship decomposing?

Would their repertoire be the cost of this venture?

His very core quivered to think such a price might be paid. But then again he couldn't help thinking that maybe she was making a bigger deal out of this than was necessary. It couldn't be that bad, could it? That…topic. Or was that the continual mistake he kept blinding himself to? He thought he knew then.

"I haven't even seen your face and you and everybody else expects me to have sex with you! Tell me, Kakashi," she lightly sniffled and threw her hands up into the air, chest heaving from her previous expense of energy. He didn't see how she wouldn't be heaving after that yell. "How am I supposed to get around that? How am I supposed to just ignore that!?"

He remained quiet. Really, what could he say to that? There was nothing. There was nothing he could say. Nothing existed that would suffice to ease the kind of borderline betrayal he was sensing in her tone. Of course he trusted her – with his life – but this was something strictly personal. Her explosion had revealed the heart of the matter. But it was true, though. There was so much 'unknown' between them. How could they even possibly hope to pull this off? He still wasn't sure it was worth it.

However… His eye wandered around the space about her body, thinking on what he should – what he had­ to– do. It was raining quite heavily but he could still pick out the tears that beaded along her lower lids before they joined the rainwater coursing down her round cheeks. And the rain wasn't going to stop anytime soon…but neither was she.

Sakura…

This again…What was the difference between sex in the dark and a mask once they got to that stage? He didn't believe there was really any 'if' at this point in time. It was apparently so very important to her; enough that she couldn't even think about basic things without resorting back to this. It wasn't the first time this had been brought up, although past references were never this grim.

He didn't want to hurt her.

He didn't.

He didn't want to.

And so, he would give her this; something so of himself that the ache of its loss was already pushing his survival instincts into overdrive and tensing his muscles for flight. This was fear he was feeling. What would come after this, he didn't know. He hated not knowing.

Her arm was lifted to wipe the back of her wrist against her cheek and he moved, falling heavily to kneel before her. Fear had to be fought immediately before it was allowed to take hold. Here he was on his knees on the edge of grassland and forest, face up-turned in submission and about to drown in the onslaught of nature as she only sniffled and looked down at him. Did she not realize the significance of this? How hard this was for him?

The point in which her crying paused was obvious as she fixed him with a confused stare. His eye only closed for the brief amount of time it took to tilt his chin up towards her. Go ahead.

"Kakashi?"

There was wonder and a quietly simmering excitement in her eyes, mingling heavily with surprise and slight anticipation. She seemed to be gaining control of herself as her arms fell to her sides, overcome with emotion. Was it real? He could read the question clearly in her bright eyes. Her arms came up slowly, haltingly as if he might jerk away at any moment when she got too close. His eye fluttered closed as tentative fingertips brushed against his skin at the border of his mask. The rain against his lashes proved too heavy to keep open.

So he told himself. Indeed.

She ran them hesitantly along its edge, indecisive. He pushed the headband up off his eye - oh, God, what was he doing? – so very slowly opening up. Two fingers traced the portion of the scar just above his mask, running slowly over it, back and forth as she deliberated in wonder at what was being presented to her. He wished she would decide one way or the other. The light touch was tickling more than one sense. His eyes tightened even as he fought to keep the muscles from clenching shut when soft fingertips dipped below. Slim fingers delicately held the cloth from his face, the tenting of it against her knuckles letting air flow in and complicating the sensations scurrying over his skin. She wondered at the feel of what she could not see.

It was and wasn't what she'd been expecting. Resting them against his face made his skin feel cool and soft. But when she grazed the pads across the surface even the tiniest of distances, she could feel the course little hairs pushing their way out from under the epidermis and-- It felt like she was being watched and she shifted her marveling eyes to see that he was peering vacantly from slit lids and underneath long lashes, his deep irises prominent against rain-paled flesh and natural coloring.

She was looking for any warning in his blank stare, for the final alarm that would halt her actions. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries in the action she'd taken as encouragement. Although she wanted this – badly – she respected him greatly and didn't want to sacrifice his friendship for it. Seeing nothing either way, she slid her fingers downwards until her tips curled underneath the hard line of his jaw. And with a final look to seal any last chances, she flattened her hands on either side of his face and slowly slid the heel of her hand down his cheeks, the material of his mask bunching at her wrists as she went.

She slowly released a deep breath, ingraining this event – its purpose, its meaning – on the list of important happenings in her life. She took her time gazing at his bared features. Her eyes had automatically gone to his lips. Why do eyes always go there first? Maybe it had to do with the fact that she still cradled his head in her hands, his prominent chin propped up and the cloth bunched near them holding heavy visual weight.

As it was, they were pressed in a straight line. She knew he was trying to be as nonchalant as possible but could now clearly see that he couldn't quite get his body to cooperate. If she knew anything it was muscle structure and she could see how the corners of his mouth pulled, however slightly. And even if she didn't, the tense jaw resting in her palms was evidence enough.

It was a good line, his jaw, and her thumbs freed themselves to travel a ways along it absently. Her gaze meandered upwards, taking in the nose, cheek one and cheek two, continuing to trace the scar that took her all the way up past his eyebrow. That had been a nasty cut at one time, painful, too. Her thumb stretched to trace the ridges, cataloguing the fine medical points on its infliction and healing. He'd lost the eye, he'd said. She saw how it easily claimed it. Her thumb brushed over the lid hiding the implanted organ lightly. Such pain there. Her brows furrowed at the thought.

She paused for some time and Kakashi opened his eyes briefly for a gauging peek at her inaction. He'd kept them closed to better allow her to…adjust to him as he was. It was better that way, easier…for him. She was still studying him, her brows drawn close in the analysis. He let his eyes fall half-lidded, her torso filling his vision but staring at nothing. She continued undisturbed.

The first thing that hit her about his open features was that he was definitely striking. The shinobi part of her mind knew this could be – and probably had been– used to a sickening advantage on the mission front. But what kept her staring was disbelief and ethereal wonder. By the Hokage, he looked like a boy. Was he really in his thirties? He…couldn't be, not with this face.

She had asked Tsunade sometime long ago in one of her many attempts to glean information on Kakashi's mask. Her wording had been more like 'what's he look like?'

Tsunade had only thrown a wide-eyed and baffled look at her saying in a voice equally bewildered, 'What would you want to see that baby face for?'

Baby face?

Baby face, indeed.

And yet…the blush boiling just under the surface of her own cheeks should have told her that something much more mature was skirting the chimera before her.

The youthful apparition wavered when his eyes opened to peer at her. They were much too sharp and experienced to maintain that particular illusion. No, he only looked childish when his eyes were closed. When opened, he was something else entirely…and she couldn't find the words to describe his appeal. It broke her trance and she shivered once in the cold rain before her hands slowly slid along his face to grasp the back of his head. They pressed on the crown, drew him in, and held him to her. His lids were heavy as she exhaled and wrapped her arms around to keep him in place. She bent closer, whispering a soft 'thank you' into his hair, and his eyes fell closed, the warmth of her soft body and encompassing grip lulling him into an odd calm, she now sheltering him.

He wasn't sure if the hiccups meant she was still crying but his arms remained at his sides. She was comfortable, after all. And the rain still fell.

He was setting himself up for disaster, he could feel it.

He never did return the embrace.

She thought she'd made him angry. Three days had gone by and she had not yet seen him. Or even heard from him. Of course she was nervous. While it was undeniable something had been irrevocably changed that day, it was unclear in which way, to what effect. Would this be for the better or would this further rend them apart even as it seemed they were growing closer?

Or felt that they were getting closer. At the very least, close enough to have let last night come to be.

No, they'd changed. She understood him better than she ever had; felt that he was even beginning to trust her with things not otherwise revealed to others. Those few occasions in the clearing where he actually unwound and deemed it – her – safe enough to recline upon were profound. They were rare enough that each occurrence still surprised her and held more significance each time.

He hadn't wanted to do it. She knew it then – would always remember that – but had wanted so badly that she let him do it, what he felt had to be done. And she hadn't been sorry. There was trust now between them as people that had never even come close to being present before. As shinobi – teammates – undoubtedly and assuredly their steps danced around each other. But as individuals – friends ­– there had been only stumbling and the awkward motions to rejoin that dance.

But now – now after everything – she could say she knew him a little better…as a man. And she wouldn't trade that for all the trouble it would have saved her in the future. And she planned to make sure Tsunade-sama knew it. Because while Hokage-sama looked out for the soldier, the man underneath was often trampled upon. If Tsunade was trying to make her choose a side, she would leave no doubt that she was slowly coming to stand firmly behind Kakashi's line.

Fifteen days and three missions later found her trying to catch up with him at his apartment. Tsunade-shishou had mentioned something about an exchange of words along the lines of him hiding from sight lest she confine him to a numbered room for the length of his illness. Both knowing quite well his aversion to the hospital, she knew where he'd quarantined himself and made her way there. The Hokage was less likely to have him dragged in for observation if she thought he was at least attempting to rest. She wondered how long it would last, this round of avoidance, if he still had Tsunade-shishou concerned. Still, though, she supposed he at least deserved to be checked up on. Tsunade-shishou wasn't one apt to worrying and especially not over Kakashi. And as she climbed the last of the stairs she couldn't help but think that a short house call wouldn't hurt. Just to make sure.

…Would it?

Her knock was gentle, not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping and wanting to give him a way out if that's what he wanted…although she really shouldn't enable him like that.

Nothing. She knocked again.

And when there was still no greeting or even shuffling of feet she frowned. She knew he was in there, could feel it. So why wasn't he at least telling her to go away?

There was a sound – a very familiar sound – and her eyes widened. She couldn't wait, felt an urgent need to see him right this instant. After strong-arming the door – it was only a little chakra, the door could be repaired easily enough – she let herself in and followed the faint chakra trail through the apartment. She came up short as soon as she entered his bedroom at the sight beyond.

Kakashi hurriedly threw up his mask, only able to throw a baleful and sickly look her way, too ill to rise in normal defense and face her…even after her forceful entry. He was bent over the receptacle in which he'd deposited the amount of food he'd tried to get down. He looked weakly from his coveted vessel to her and back again. He'd been losing weight from lack of appetite and had reached the point where he had to literally force himself to eat or he would soon enter shock and die. Or close to it. The hospital was as good as death. Attempts to gain sustenance had been largely unsuccessful thus far. Perhaps he should try a nutrient saturated broth again?

Her face fell. He looked terrible. It was obvious he was not feeling good at all. She knew he didn't want to, but maybe he really should go to the hospital. She bet he was horribly dehydrated. But still, even with all that, he still had the presence of mind to cover his face. Her lips struggled not to frown. Instead, she motioned with her hand, unmoving from her initial arrival in his entryway, and said lightly, "Do you really need that now?"

He looked away from her gentle motions and countenance to some points in between several times, cradling his container as he sat on the floor. She was trying to be as unobtrusive and undemanding as possible, he could tell. And he appreciated it. He just didn't think much could be done about it. It was obvious he needed a little more help than his body alone was providing. Glancing once more out the corners of his eyes at her, he came back to rest on his bin of less than desirable contents and gave a pitifully weak and sheepish shake of the head, yielding to her unspoken offer.

A fleeting smile fled from her lips as she turned to close the door, Kakashi focusing intently on his receptacle. His mask remained up, however, and she was disappointed that it didn't immediately come down. In fact, they stood as they were in their respective slightly uncomfortable spaces for a few moments. Kakashi was the one to break it as the mask flew down and he bent over in another round of Stomach says Fuck You, Body.

He coughed twice in attempt to purge the lingering bile from his throat. He spit to remove the last from his mouth. Her heart went out to him. She struggled to say something meaningful but words escaped her.

No. She squeezed her eyes shut and fists closed, pulling herself together. She was here to help and right now she wasn't. Detouring around useless thoughts and habits, she approached within acceptable proximity, halting at the feel of something disturbingly wrong from him. His weakened state was most shocking and she could feel the immediate forming of an ulcer in her own stomach at the sudden stress that had sprung forth at seeing him in his truly appalling condition. How long had he been hiding it?

Well, she and Naruto had suspected – Sasuke pointing it out to her – that he'd been unwell for some time. She really meant to what extent had he been hiding this particular degree of severity? He'd never looked as he did now. She couldn't get her brows to unfurrow, so great was her worry. She wondered how long he'd been fighting this. Had it just finally culminated into what was currently before her or were his symptoms indicative of something greater? She didn't know… But something was truly wrong. The first step to finding what that was was to treat what she could and go from there. She would have to take baby steps. And right now that consisted of questions.

"Have you gotten anything down?" A weak shake of his head. She nodded, having suspected as much. Alright, then, first thing's first: food. Taking a look around at the few ready-made containers, she got an idea of exactly what he had failed at keeping in him. Instant ramen? Sushi? She shook her head in bewilderment. What was he thinking? She felt slightly pressed for time for some reason, although she didn't know why. But she knew of a slightly quick fix.

Moving the last remaining steps closer, she knelt beside him and brought a hand up to reach for his face. She stopped short as he jerked back, ever on the defensive and eyeing her hand the whole time. She couldn't stop the small frown from springing forth at that, but she did acquiesce to his predisposition and brought chakra to her hand first before moving forward again. He visibly relaxed at the healing glow and allowed her to finish her motion. His survival instinct was so strong! Sometimes she didn't see how he and Gai had all those challenges if he was so afraid to let anyone close.

The look of relief playing on his features after her short healing session impacted them both so profoundly that she could only hold him as he sighed and slumped, utter exhaustion winning out. She let it go on for almost ten minutes, feeling comfortable enough to leave him lay on the floor while she fixed some ramen. She strained the noodles, collecting the broth in a low-rising bowl and sat beside him, lending support as he slowly downed the liquid. This would help to settle his stomach and allow his body to rest so that his mind might as well.

When the tremendously trying task was completed, she set the bowl aside and allowed him to fully lay out beside her – despite her strong aversion otherwise – and pillow his head upon her lap. He was so weary that once he was positioned she gave in, but not completely. She let him unwind, even found herself combing through his matted hair, lightly stroking her fingers against his forehead and then his cheek. She remembered her mother doing this for her on occasion.

A final gentle pass of the backs of her fingers against his face and that was it. She brooked no argument as she stirred him and forced him to get in the bed. He would not be sleeping on the floor. She stayed long enough to see his return to slumber before pulling the comforter up a little higher and taking the bowl from the floor to return it to the kitchen countertop. As she began to make a few simple ready-made 'meals' for throughout the week – she wanted to maximize his opportunity to rest – she thought hard; about what was; what happened; what is; and what she could see was coming. And as she finished washing the last of the used dishes, she formulated the wording necessary to illustrate to Hokage-sama that mandatory rest for him was not an option.

It would be done.