Sakura had difficulties falling asleep that night. Knowing that Kimimaro was just on the other side of her bedroom wall gave her a bit of a rush every time she thought about it. In the past two years, she'd wasted more hours of sleep than she cared to admit on little nighttime reveries involving a certain quiet presence, and now he was actually here…

Again the realization hit her and made her heart skip a beat, again that rush of happy excitement coursed through her.

She tossed and turned until two in the morning, at which point she decided that she was not only restless but also starving because of her annoyed hunger strike the night before.

She pulled an oversized hoodie over her tank top and panties and made for the kitchen. By the light of a crescent moon, she cut up an apple and munched on a few slices.

The door to her office – Kimimaro's room, now – was ajar; she could see it out of the corner of her eye as she ate. She resisted the urge to look in on him, though she wanted to, because it might be rude, or weird, or creepy…

But, somehow, trying to focus on not looking in that direction made her want to look even more, to check in on him (why? What could he need that couldn't wait till morning?), to see if he was asleep (and if he was? And if he wasn't?), to… what else? What other dumb excuses was she going to come up with?

Sakura shook her head. The truth was, she just wanted to be near him – with him. But there was a fine line to tread between being with him and being with with him. It was a line she wanted to touch, dance along, explore, but not actually cross, not yet – she had other things to resolve first. Things like Sasuke and a heart too afraid to try again…

She finished her last apple slice and it was time to go back to bed. And again that half-open door drew her attention. In a moment of self-indulgence (not to say, weakness) she walked past it under the pretext of going to the bathroom – maybe he would be awake – and glanced in.

Kimimaro was sitting up in his bed, shirtless, his hair undone, his knees drawn up and his arms crossed over them. Sakura's breath caught in her throat. The soft glow of moonlight diffusing through closed curtains made him even more dazzling than usual.

Their eyes met as she passed his door. He'd known that she was there, of course – he had probably sensed her the minute she'd gotten out of bed.

Sakura tugged at her hoodie to make sure her bare thighs were more-or-less covered (they weren't, really) before looking in and trying to act nonchalant, like this hadn't been what she had hoped for.

"Hey – you're up."

"Yes," said Kimimaro.

"I hope I didn't wake you…?"

"No."

"Oh, good," said Sakura. "Um – how's the bed? Are you comfortable enough?"

"Yes," said Kimimaro, passing his hands over the sheets. "Very. Thank you."

"Okay, that's good…"

Sakura cast about for further things to ask him and her brain – her brilliant, much-vaunted brain, that had mastered all poisons and pioneered modern bladeless surgery and otherwise revolutionized medical ninjutsu – came up with absolutely nothing.

"Well," she said after a beat, "if everything's okay, I guess I'll – I'll go back to bed…"

"I cannot sleep," said Kimimaro.

Sakura pushed the door open a little wider and thought, join the club.

"How come?"

Kimimaro looked around the cozy room with its mismatched assortment of furniture and Sakura's book-laden shelves lining the walls, and the stacks of his new clothes piled on the dresser. "It is so strange to me. To be here."

"Strange…?"

"I am far away from Orochimaru," said Kimimaro. He looked down at his hands. "My body is mine. I have never been so strong.

"Now I am in a foreign village," he continued, gesturing to the window where Konoha sprawled sleepily on the other side of the curtains. "But. I do not have a mission. I am not here to kill anyone."

Kimimaro looked at Sakura and it seemed to her that his eyes shone with joy in the dark room. "I am with you – that is the strangest of all. I am with you. In your home. In Konohagakure. And I am permitted to be here. Welcomed, in a way. By the village. By you. I cannot believe it."

From Kimimaro, this unexpected verbosity approached actual enthusiasm, which was a novel thing to witness from someone so reserved.

Sakura smiled at him. "It's strange for me to have you here, too. In a good way, I mean. You're like a – well, something from another life. From that life in the Sound that feels like ages ago. I never thought I'd see you again, honestly. And – and never like this."

She looked down and tugged at the sleeve of her hoodie. "But – I'm glad you're here. You're safe…"

(She wanted to say, 'and with me,' but that was too much.)

"I am glad, too," said Kimimaro. He propped his chin into his hand and studied her. "Will you come in?"

"Um – n-no," stammered Sakura, "because – because we're being watched–"

(The curtains were closed, right, of course, she knew that.)

"–and I'm trying to be a good host and give you your space, you know," she finished lamely.

"I do not want space," said Kimimaro. "Not from you."

Sakura couldn't help the smile that dimpled her cheeks. That goddamned heartfelt sincerity did things to her. And besides, she had wanted this to happen, hadn't she? She'd walked past his door on purpose; she'd hoped that he'd be awake.

But why – why did she oscillate so madly between wanting to be with him and being so afraid? It was killing her, this back-and-forth, this relentless uncertainty; god, why couldn't she make up her damn mind, why did Sasuke haunt her with fear of repeating a disaster, with guilt…

Sasuke was back now. Kimimaro had found him, like he promised he would, the man he thought she loved. (She'd told him otherwise, but.)

Sasuke was back. Maybe now she'd be able to get some goddamn closure and move on with her life.

Sakura took few steps into Kimimaro's room, emboldened by the thought.

Kimimaro observed her where she halted at the foot of his bed, her fingertips peeking out from her oversized sleeves, her hair falling over her shoulder, the one inch of tummy that was visible between her tank and the top of her panties when she moved and the unzipped hoodie opened at the front.

"A little closer," said Kimimaro, a glimmer of something like mischief in his eyes.

Sakura raised an eyebrow; she might've been being teased, but sometimes his teasings were too subtle…

"This close," said Kimimaro, holding out his arm. "I am told this is normal."

And Sakura laughed because those were her words from earlier – so yes, he was teasing her, in his quiet Kimimaro way.

"Fine," she said, taking a seat on his bed. "There. Better?"

"Yes," said Kimimaro.

Sakura settled herself against the wall and looked at him. They were treading so carefully around each other right now. He knew her well; he was reading her nervousness, her twitchiness, her avoidance of his touches. And he must've been so confused because, prior to his departure on the retrieval mission, when he was in that cell, she was all over him, as far as those bars permitted.

But there lay the difference; at this particular moment, she had no barriers, physical or otherwise – and somehow that was the biggest barrier of all.

And yet – despite these fantastically mixed messages that she was sending him – he wasn't forcing the issue. He pulled her in only as far as she had shown him she was comfortable, this silly arm's length thing, and he politely continued that 'normalcy' pretext, this 'best behaviour' thing, even when they both knew that right now, no one was watching.

He was so patient in the face of her indecision, her faltering, her vagaries. Personally, she found herself exhausting.

"You must wonder what the hell is wrong with me," said Sakura.

Kimimaro took a breath as though to answer. Then he let it out again and didn't say anything at all.

"I'm trying to – I've been trying to – straighten out some personal issues, but…I'm having trouble. I've been burnt before, really badly…"

(She was being so vague and talking in such wide circles about her issues that he probably had no damn clue what she was even talking about.)

"…I just need time," said Sakura at length.

"I do not mind."

Sakura stared at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because one day I'm all over you and the next I'm not even letting you get close to me. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"You are the least stupid person I know," said Kimimaro.

Sakura managed a tiny smile at this statement.

A companionable silence fell between them. Kimimaro produced a slender white blade and toyed with it – to keep his hands occupied, probably, though he would no doubt have preferred them to be occupied by her bare legs crossed at the ankles in front of him, or her hands where they fiddled with the cord of her hoodie – yes, no doubt he would prefer to be doing that. But he wouldn't push her; he would wait, because she told him she needed more time, because he loved her, because he respected the hell out of her…

It would be nice, though…

"What are you thinking of?"

Kimimaro's even tones surprised Sakura out of a pleasant reverie. He was studying her and her daydreamy eyes with curiosity.

What was she thinking of? Oh, that was easy – that she wanted him to put away the knife and pull her gently under the sheets with him so they could lie there together and see what happened. And he'd do it, too, only she couldn't thaw out enough to let him…

"Oh I was just – thinking about what you said," said Sakura. "About me being the least stupid person you know. Now I'm curious – who's the stupidest person you know?"

(Good save. Fantastic save.)

Kimimaro snatched the blade out of the air and blinked at her. "Oh. I can answer that. However… I do not wish to offend you."

"I promise I won't be offended," said Sakura, actually finding herself interested in his answer now.

"Very well," said Kimimaro. "Perhaps not stupid. Not really. But. Naruto…"

Sakura couldn't hold back a laugh – she should've figured. "Oh, yeah. You're kind of opposites on the personality spectrum. How did you get along?"

"He is very…very…"

"Loud? Boisterous?"

Kimimaro nodded. "However. He has grown. When we last fought, he was full of anger. No control, only rage. Now he is learning to control himself."

"He has been working hard on that," said Sakura. "He doesn't get riled up quite so easily as he used to…"

"And he is learning to control the beast inside him," said Kimimaro. "So. He is stronger than when I last fought him. Much stronger. This was good to see."

"How do you know? Did you two have a tussle?"

"We had a few…disagreements," said Kimimaro. "It was not serious. He is not often serious, Naruto."

He flipped his knife and caught it. "Until it comes to the Uchiha. Then, he is serious."

"They're best friends," said Sakura. Then she looked at the floor, uncertain, suddenly, of the veracity of this statement. "Or – they were. I don't know anymore."

"Yes," said Kimimaro. "I believe that he does not know anymore, either. When the Uchiha turned on him, he was angry. Bitterly."

"I can only imagine," said Sakura.

There was a pause during which Kimimaro seemed to be remembering something. "The one called Neji. His taijutsu… I have not seen such a technique before, this Juuken… It was good."

"Oh, yeah. They have an interesting kekkei genkai, the Hyuugas. They're one of our oldest clans."

"Neji helped me," said Kimimaro, "when Kabuto thought to backstab me. That was not expected. I am thankful to him."

Sakura pulled her knees up and crossed her arms over them. She found herself oddly fascinated by Kimimaro's opinions of these people who she'd known for so long, and who were so new and strange to him.

"What'd you think of Gai?"

"Oh," said Kimimaro. "That one. He is also loud. But his taijutsu was very strong. He fought Kabuto after Neji could not. He did well."

His white blade, which had found a resting spot between two of his fingers, once again began its spiralling dance. "I would have liked to fight Kabuto. I have a score to settle with him. But. I was occupied."

Sakura gave Kimimaro and his blade a sidelong look. Occupied, yes – occupied with disemboweling some Sound ninjas at that point, if Kiba's recollection was correct. Which was odd to think about because to her, Kimimaro was the personification of reserve and gentleness and quietude. That side of him – the shinobi in action, the killer – was unknown to her, understood only in theory (she'd read about him, she'd seen him train) but never actually witnessed firsthand…

Kimimaro lifted his shoulders and let them drop. "Anyway. I will meet Kabuto again. One day. Then we will settle it."

He was talking about killing Kabuto. So calmly, so matter-of-factly. Again Sakura studied Kimimaro in the dark – those hands with their gentling touches that were capable of much worse. She remembered what Ino had seen and felt in Kimimaro's head during those final moments in the Sound; Kimimaro's anger at discovering that Kabuto had drugged her, to the point that Ino had thought that Kimimaro was going to kill him. But he didn't, in that moment, out of self-control and who knew what else – it wasn't the right time, it wasn't the right place…

Now he was ready to do it. It was a marvel, really, the way Kimimaro's desire for redress, this score settling business, was expressed in such serene terms. The way his words evinced no sign of the true intensity of his feelings. Just this little shrug and this quiet certainty; we will settle it. (So different from another who sought revenge and who declared it so grandiosely whenever he could, who styled himself an Avenger with a capital A…)

Kimimaro resumed his knife-play. Sakura watched his deft movements, the spinning of this lethal thing sharper than her scalpels from fingertip to fingertip, casting twirling shadows in the moonlit room.

"Kiba said you saw Orochimaru out there," said Sakura.

The blade spun once more and then stilled.

"Yes," said Kimimaro.

He fell silent for a long moment.

"He was so angry when he saw me," he said at length.

And then he wasn't a killer any more. He looked vulnerable, this young man with his bowed head, his downcast gaze, his hair falling across his face, whiter than the moonlight that touched it.

Sakura wondered how hard that moment must've been for him – to see his former master, whose opinion was once everything to him, who he'd devoted such a large part of his young life to, out of his mind with rage…

It couldn't have been easy. Sakura shifted closer to Kimimaro and broke her own rules by putting a hand on his knee. (The justifications came fast and easy: no one could see; this was fine, it was platonic; besides, just look at him…)

"I made my choice," said Kimimaro. He put his hand on hers and looked up at her. Then, with the utmost certitude: "It was the correct choice."

"It was," said Sakura. "You have a chance to live your life. You have a chance to be happy."

"A chance…? I am happy."

It made her smile, that statement and all the conviction that accompanied it. "Good."

"Are you?" asked Kimimaro.

"Happy? Right now? Yes."

"Oh," said Kimimaro. "Good. You were not earlier."

Sakura blinked at him. "When do you mean?"

"When you first saw the Uchiha," said Kimimaro. "I thought you would be happy. But you were…something else."

Sakura remembered that look that Kimimaro had given her in the OR when she'd knelt beside Sasuke – the unspoken question when their eyes had met. "Oh. Yeah. I thought I'd be happy, too."

Kimimaro regarded Sakura contemplatively in the semi-darkness. She fiddled with the drawstring of her hoodie, wrapping it around one finger, then the next, then the next.

Outside, a cloud passed across the moon. The shadows around them deepened.

Sakura breathed out a sigh. "I thought it would've been a moment of pure joy, that moment when Sasuke was back. It's been such a long time coming."

"They said it has been ten years since he ran away. To join Otogakure."

"Yeah." Sakura leaned back and studied the ceiling. "Have you ever wanted something so much, for so long, that when it finally happens you can't really believe it? You're afraid to believe it?"

"Yes," said Kimimaro.

Sakura hadn't expected an answer to this vaguely rhetorical question. She looked up at him. "What was it?"

"This," said Kimimaro.

It wasn't fair, how he could make her blush with a single word. She turned away and felt his gaze on her, on her mussed-up hair, pale pink in the moonlight, on her bare legs stretched out across his bed, on her hands busying themselves with the drawstring.

"There were times, after you had left, that I did not believe you were real," said Kimimaro. "Even now, when you are here…"

He reached for her; his fingertips curled around a strand of her hair and then let it go. "You are like something from a dream."

Sakura blushed further; for a guy with such limited social skills, Kimimaro could be goddamn smooth…

"I thought about you a great deal after you left," continued Kimimaro after a beat. "I told myself that perhaps I should forget you. That it would be for the best. But then…I kept forgetting to do that."

"I'm glad you didn't," said Sakura, unable to hold back the smile that his candid words evoked. "I didn't forget you. I missed you, actually. I missed the stupidest little things…"

She trailed off, not daring enough to say more. "Anyway – you're right about Sasuke.

I wasn't happy. I felt sorry for him. And I was – relieved, I guess. Because that chapter is finally over."

She pulled her hoodie more tightly around herself. "What's important is that he's back. He'll be safe here. Things are going to be better for him…"

Outside, the cloud passed and again the moonlight diffused its white glow through the curtains.

"You know, I just realized," said Sakura, looking up. "I haven't even thanked you. God – it's been one thing after another today, but it's the first thing I should've said to you. You did it. You found Sasuke. I owe you a huge – huge – debt of gratitude, Kimimaro. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for doing what you did."

Kimimaro lifted a shoulder, like this was hardly worth mentioning. "It is only a partial repayment of my debt to you. A very small part…"

"A very small part?" repeated Sakura. "No. You need to understand – finding him has been my goal – Konoha's goal – for the last decade. You accomplished something that I never could. That this whole village never could. And not for lack of trying, either. This is major."

"He was not difficult to track," said Kimimaro, toying with his knife again. "It was nothing…"

"It's not just the tracking that I'm talking about," said Sakura. "You ran into Orochimaru. You risked your life for him. Things could've been so much worse…"

Sakura frowned. She hadn't yet had time to process the full ramifications of the fight, and it was just dawning on her quite how badly things could've gone. "If Orochimaru had got you… God, I don't even want to think about it."

"But. He did not."

"I know, but he could've. He was right there. How would I live with myself?"

"Nothing happened," said Kimimaro again. "This was nothing—"

"Stop saying that."

"—compared to what I owe you."

"Kimimaro."

"Nothing."

They stared at each other, then, not quite a glare, but almost – willful green against obstinate darker green.

"We aren't going to agree on this, are we?" said Sakura.

"No," said Kimimaro.

Sakura settled her back against the wall and huffed. They eyed each other, too convinced of their respective correctness and too certain that the other was wrong, to back down.

They were both right in a way, of course. After mulling it over for a few quiet moments, Sakura could admit that to herself, if not to him. Because yes, she'd been instrumental in giving Kimimaro his life back – and he was right, that was a big deal. But he'd been instrumental in helping her achieve a goal that had obsessed her for the last 10 years, which was also a goddamn big deal…

Kimimaro's knife spun in perfect circles between his dexterous fingers. Sakura lost herself in watching the whirling blade as she mused, the white flicker in the moonlight, the way he made it look easy.

He saw her watching and, eventually, gave her the knife – a kind of peace offering, perhaps.

Sakura took it and passed her fingers over it. It was a beautiful thing – so simple in design and yet the perfect size and shape to slide between ribs and into a heart.

She flexed at the blade with a little chakra in her fingertips and it did not give at all.

And it was familiar, that moment. She'd done this before, this curious examination of one of his weapons. This was a kind of déjà vu. As she passed her fingers along the flat of the blade, she found herself once again back in Otogakure, back on her cot with engraved walls rising around her, and Kimimaro on her cot with her, showing her the Shikotsumyaku for the first time. And she was toying with the bone senbon he'd just produced, and marvelling at his strength, and marvelling at him…

Only back then he could barely get a dozen words out in her presence – and now they'd lingered in effortless conversation for an hour. Back then, he was enslaved by the seal and still healing from his surgery. And now he was free, and healthy, and beautiful.

Back then he wanted her a little, though he didn't really know it – and now…

"This reminds me of that time…" began Sakura.

She didn't need to specify. Kimimaro nodded. "I remember."

"Such a long time ago," said Sakura, setting the knife aside.

She scooted closer, positioned herself in front of him, sat back on her heels, and looked at him playfully. "I was like this? I think?"

"Yes," said Kimimaro.

She reached down to untangle his legs from the sheets. "And you were like this. No. Like this."

Kimimaro looked down and nodded.

"And then…. this…"said Sakura, her hand pressed to his chest. She sent some chakra into his system, just for the hell of it, because why not replicate the moment perfectly…

Kimimaro reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Sakura emerged from her brief chakra scan to find his hand on her cheek. His palm was warm against her skin – warm and setting her a-tingle.

Their eyes met. And then something in the air changed: it grew charged with wants long-standing and long-unvoiced, with a deep-rooted tension, with memories of things left unfinished…

"I wanted to kiss you, then," said Kimimaro. Their faces were close together now – so close that she could feel his words flutter across her skin. "It was – so confusing to me. I had never had such a feeling before."

(What feeling? Oh, this feeling? This crazy, thrilling impulse to lean in right now and finish what they'd started all those years ago? That feeling…?)

In a voice hardly above a whisper because she hardly dared ask, Sakura said, "Do you still want to?"

Her question took a while to sink in – or perhaps Kimimaro didn't believe he'd heard her correctly. Either way, he looked up at her in a kind of daze before speaking again.

"Yes," he said. "More than anything…"

Yes. Yes, he wanted to. And she wanted to too, of course; it was why she had fabricated a flimsy excuse to come into his room and why she had lingered there; it was why she was on her knees in front of him right now, as close as it was possible to be without actually sitting on him.

More than anything. Sakura wasn't quite seeing straight anymore. Her head was spinning, her blood coursed with a strange buoyancy, and all that existed was his hand on her cheek, and his parted lips before her, and the breaths that they were exchanging more quickly now…

She leaned in and nudged the side of his nose with hers, then took a breath and closed her eyes – and, simultaneously, the little space that remained between their mouths.

Against her lips came an intake of breath – and then a sigh that might well have been the word, finally…

His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck and pulled her more closely into the kiss – and then came that surge of light-headedness and that racing pulse that she hadn't experienced in years. Not since she had last felt his lips on hers…

So they shared a long, slow succession of kisses, gorgeous moments frequently daydreamed of and long anticipated. His mouth was warm against hers and, after a time, smiling. And she was smiling too, but she also kind of wanted to cry, though she wasn't sure why.

They pulled back, bumped noses, breathed. Kimimaro looked at her with dream-filled eyes, not believing that this was real, perhaps, or perhaps having done this in dreams so many times that now he was, for all intents and purposes, in one again…

After those few breaths, they found that breathing was less important than finding each other's mouths again – a deeper kiss, this time, to taste (toothpaste; apples).

He passed his hands over her hips with a slow adoration that approached reverence (and oh her heart raced) and slid one around the small of her back, and pulled her towards him. She moved up closer, clambered onto him, and tangled her fingers into his hair, and granted him another kiss, soft and gentling, that held all the things she couldn't yet say to him but wanted to.

And he kissed her back just as gently, as though she truly was some dream-vision that might vanish if he went too fast. His eyes were alight; he seemed on the verge of saying something… But he could only pull back and look at her with such longing and love that it made her heart wrench.

They breathed at each other, thrilled, uncertain.

"What are we doing?" asked Sakura in a breathless whisper.

"I do not know," said Kimimaro in a whisper just as breathless.

Sakura pressed her forehead to his, searching his eyes, but there was no answer there, unless love was an answer…

There they remained for a long, breathy moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning around them.

"You need time," said Kimimaro. "I am sorry. I cannot – cannot always think straight when you are close…"

He looked down at where Sakura was nestled against him, at her bare legs on either side of his waist. She felt his hand on her thigh tighten; his forehead found a resting place on her shoulder. "…And you have never been this close."

"Don't be sorry," said Sakura, running her fingers over his bare shoulder. "I'm not. Not even remotely…"

They held each other for little while more, savouring the slow-burning thrill of the moment, that delicious pull of mutual longing.

Slowly Sakura untangled herself from him, first one leg, then the other, and sat back. "I – I should go. It's really late. Or – early, I'm not sure…"

Kimimaro nodded at her, once again the picture of quiet impassivity.

Sakura climbed off his bed. "Goodnight Kimimaro."

"Goodnight."

She pulled her hoodie more tightly around herself as she left his room. Without his arms around her, she was so cold…