She stirs when she feels movement, eyes fluttering. There's moonlight streaming in, bouncing off of leaves and cabinets, reminding her where she is. She sees him when she turns, seated next to her, outlined in silver. He notices her waking, meets her gaze, eyes aglow in the dark. She can sense his disquiet, written in fine lines casting shadows—a bad dream, perhaps? She doesn't speak, instead lifts her head, turns, and rests it in his lap. Offering him a smile, she takes a deep breath, feels it in her lungs. He studies her, like he's done many times before, always observing. She's surprised when he touches her, gently parts her hair. She tries to hide the shiver running down her spine, forces herself to maintain eye-contact, watches the passing of thought within his gaze. His lips part, and she finds herself drawn to the shape of them, the slightest glint of teeth catching her attention.

"Why do you trust me?" he asks, fingers running down the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek.

Her eyes flick between his, wishing she could unearth every concern buried beneath. "I don't know," she breathes truthfully, hands folded atop her chest, sheltering the pitter-patter of her pulse, "just something about you." Something familiar. Her eyes travel the structure of him, take in every detail, then reach that scar, etched deep enough to remain a bright red—like blood. She lifts a hand, observes the quick movement of his eyes, reaches for its jagged pattern. She allows her fingers to travel along its grooves, trace its edges. There's pain there, soaking into her skin like pinpricks. "You see me," she reasons, wishing she could reach through and into the being of him, touch his byzantine soul and soothe it.

"I've hurt a lot of people." It's a statement, nothing less. "You among them."

She can tell it gnaws at him, eats tender thoughts when given the chance. "You've helped me more times than you've hurt me." She's been hurt before, by people closer than he—though they feel miles away now.

He takes in her answer, digests it before speaking again. "There's many things I wish I could take back."

She sees it then, like she did in his office, feels herself welcomed beneath his skin. She takes his hand, keeps it pressed to her face, watches shadows cling to his features. "You were a child." She can feel his breath, senses the slight tremor of it. He closes his eyes, hides whatever passes behind marks of black—reminders of what he used to be, what part of him will always be. "Either way, you've earned your forgiveness." She smiles, squeezes his limb, feels confident saying these things knowing what she knows. He opens his eyes, studies her in return, and she sees herself reflected within pools of jade.

"Thank you," he answers, though in the following silence she can tell he's between moments—lost somewhere she can't follow.

She wets her lips, gathers the courage to push closer. "What are you thinking about?"

He seems surprised, at first, uncertainty flashing across his features. She wonders briefly if she's overstepped, their friendship new and still lacking any real barriers. Then, his shoulders slump, a weary smile on his lips. "I tend to go astray in the silence; nothing but my own thoughts to occupy my mind. I still have to get used to it at times." Though she doesn't say, she thinks she knows a little what that's like, sometimes lost with her inner voice gone, her every thought unanswered.

"If it helps, you can always talk to me."

"It does," he admits, resting his head against the wall, "and it doesn't."

There's a nervous jitter beneath her skin, itching, restless. She doesn't know if she wants to ask or not, isn't sure she's ready for whatever answer might follow. Still, she braces herself, tightens her grip around his hand. "Why?"

He smiles, but she can tell it's self-deprecating as he averts his gaze, studies the room instead. "I'll miss you."

She isn't sure what she feels, what to make of the shudder in her breath, or the blooming of energy—how she'll sleep again is beyond her. She wants to tell him he won't have to, wishes she could afford such a promise. But she's a guest in foreign territory, and she'd be silly to think she could fit right into this life, this existence she's only just gotten to experience. So she doesn't speak, too afraid of making promises she can't keep, offering a fond smile instead, relieved to see it's comfort enough, for now.

"Eh, no fair Temari. Why do you get the first day with Sakura-san?"

"Because, you ill-mannered idiot, that's how calling dibs works," Temari says, sending her brother a look of disgust.

"You can't-"

"Swallow before you speak!"

Kankuro slumps in his chair, grumbling as he continues shovelling down his breakfast, narrowed gaze still pointed at his sister.

"Besides, I'm sure she could use a spa day after traveling here."

Sakura smiles at that, nodding eagerly. "It sounds lovely."

Temari's smirk turns into an excited grin, her features lighting up. "It's amazing, I go every week—it helps me survive these two." She nods at either brother, receiving offended looks on both sides.

"What did I do?" Gaara frowns, food paused mid-air.

"You're a work-a-holic insomniac who's going to end up a perpetual bachelor if you go on like this—I have my reasons to worry." Gaara's frown only deepens, lips parting to further protest her claim when she cuts him off. "Sakura's the first girl you've ever taken home, and she had to cross a desert and storm your office to get an invite."

Kankuro bursts out laughing, only to receive a sharp look from the blonde.

"Don't think you're any better—you're never going to find a decent partner whoring around."

"Gee, Tem," Kankuro grouses, "in front of the guest too."

"Better she knows the truth."

Sakura chuckles at the puppet-master's disgruntlement, his breakfast momentarily forgotten.

"I refuse to let the both of you turn this home into a complete man-cave." Temari crosses her arms, eyeing her brothers. "Best the two of you learn something from Sakura's visit, since you never listen to anything I say."

"I'd love to—but how am I supposed to when you're calling dibs?" Kankuro whines.

Temari narrows her eyes, finishing her bite before pointedly speaking: "I wouldn't throw her to the lions on her first day."

"She's Gaara's guest anyway, doesn't he get any say?"

"Sakura is free to decide for herself."

"Gaara makes a fair point." Temari nods.

All eyes turn to her, and she can feel the blood rushing to her face. "I think Temari's right," she says quickly, feeling a smile pull at her lips. "A day of relaxing will do me good."

"Then it's settled!" the blonde cheers, taking another large bite as she smirks at her brother.

Sakura's gaze finds Gaara's, feeling her smile deepen, happy to think no matter where she goes during the day, he'll be there at the end of it.

Though it's still early, already the heat has her breathless. Both unaccustomed and unprepared, she finds herself throwing jealous glances at her company; the blonde looking perfectly at home in this unforgiving climate. Thankfully, the spa isn't far, and during their walk she can sense the respect people have for Temari—it's evident in their many greetings and polite bows, in the simple way they light up when she passes. Smiling to herself, Sakura watches as the other woman addresses the personnel with familiarity, and before she knows it they're led down a hallway filled with herbal fragrances. They're handed a set of towels and robes, as well as something to wear on their feet, before being directed into a changing area. There they undress, each taking a quick shower before wrapping themselves in a towel. The water alone is relief to Sakura's skin, feeling the morning heat wash off. Refreshed and reawakened, she feels more like herself.

When she emerges, she finds Temari waiting, a bucket of what appears to be mud beside her. "Now comes the fun part," the blonde says, scooping two handfuls of the dark substance, lathering her arms, shoulders, face and eventually her entire body. Albeit a bit shyly, Sakura follows her example, allowing the towel to slip from her frame. Soon, they're both covered heads to toes, and though she's still very naked, Sakura feels less exposed behind her layer of mud—the blush staining her cheeks rendered invisible. Temari takes her to a small room, where two benches are hewn from the walls, decorated in intricate mosaic. It's beautiful, and she doesn't even notice the brightly coloured drink she's handed until it touches her arm.

"Oh, thanks," she smiles, accepting the cold glass.

"It won't help keeping you hydrated, but it'll definitely help you relax." Temari winks, settling on one of the benches.

Sakura follows, sitting down opposite of her as she sips her beverage, surprised to taste alcohol. Still, it's deliciously refreshing as it sweeps over her tongue, tasting of fruits she isn't sure she's ever had before—assuming it's made of such.

"The mud needs some time to dry before the steaming period starts," Temari explains, "then it's important we take in plenty of water."

Sakura nods, smiling into her drink as she leans against the wall, enjoying the rich scents surrounding her. "This is so different from Konoha's bathhouses," she admits, allowing her eyes to travel her mud-covered body.

Temari releases a gentle laugh, taking a quick sip before commenting: "lots of water you guys have."

Sakura chuckles in response, thinking of how true that is, how humid their summers are and how refreshing their lakes—how nice it is to take a swim with the right red-headed company. She crosses her legs, fingers finding the small necklace she hasn't taken off since.

Temari continues talking, filling the silence between them and leaving no room for awkwardness—for which Sakura is grateful. "I'll definitely miss this once I move, though I'll still be able to go during my visits."

She chews her lip, empathises with the blonde before her; she's wondered what it'd be like, too. In fact, the closer she gets to Gaara, the more she wonders if she could do it: abandon Konoha, her home. "Must be difficult, leaving everything behind."

Temari nods, staring into her drink, and Sakura can sense there's plenty she doesn't say.

"Think you'll manage?" she dares ask, shifting in her seat, feeling as if she's speaking for both Temari and she. "Missing your brothers?"

The blonde's eyes shoot up, stare directly into hers, bolder than she'd expected. "You know I'm not one to beat around the bush," she starts, causing Sakura to straighten her back, bracing herself for whatever's to come, "want to tell me what's between you and Gaara?"

She's taken aback by the directness of it, at a loss for words beneath Temari's analytical gaze. "What do you mean?" She picks at the mud on her arm, looks down at her drink, then back at the blonde.

"Like I said before; he's never brought anyone home."

Sakura nods, takes a swig, feels it burn her dry throat. "We're friends."

Temari tips her head, the corner of her lips lifting. "Just friends, huh." Though there's no accusation in her tone, it's still strangely rhetorical.

"Yes…" It's then steam starts to fill the room, heating Sakura's skin, emphasising the heavy throb of her pulse.

"Then where were you last night?"

She has to recompose herself, nearly dropping her drink as her eyes go round."W-what?" The heat washes over her, steam sticking to her skin, forming droplets.

"I stopped by the guest room to see if you needed anything, you know, extra clothes or something."

There's thoughts running through her mind, too fast too grasp. "I…"

Temari leans forward, briefly takes her hand in a reassuring gesture. "I'm not here to condemn you." She smiles, relieving some of Sakura's tension. "No need to look so scared."

She releases a breath, tucks a strand of muddy hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, it's just-"

"And don't apologise—I just want to know if you're the reason he looks healthier than he has in years."

There's a surprised flutter in her chest, her eyes taking in the blonde's earnestness. She smiles despite herself, glad to hear there's been a notable difference; it's what she was hoping for, after all. "I've been helping him sleep," she admits, feeling increasingly confident in the other's presence.

"He's been sleeping?" Temari sounds more shocked than she'd expect, emphasising the severity of her brother's insomnia.

She's reminded of their separation—how he'd refrained from sleeping, raising concerns for when she's bound to leave again. "Somewhat, yes."

"That's not why you're here though, is it?"

Sakura pauses, taken aback by the blonde's perceptiveness.

"Don't worry, I understand," Temari chuckles, "don't think I haven't considered throttling Shikamaru from time to time—they're men , they can't help it."

Though the blonde's cheekiness earns a laugh, there's still a surge of guilt gnawing at her gut, reminded of her own brashness. "It truly wasn't Gaara's fault though, my anger, that is," she quickly tries to rectify, shaking her head, a frown pulling at her brow. "It was my own stupidity, I-" she falters.

"Here, have some water."

She nods, accepts the glass, gratefully takes a drink, relieving the dry sting of her throat.

"You know, I'll miss my family terribly—to be honest I'm not entirely sure how I'll manage yet," Temari says, fingers running down her own glass, following its curve. "Kankuro and I, we've always had to rely on each other, and well, we've only just gotten our little brother it feels like." She pauses, plays with a strand of mud-covered hair, momentarily faltering in her confidence."I'm actually really glad you're here; I don't have anyone else to talk to, not about this." Though the blonde had admitted as much, Sakura still finds herself surprised, thinking it hard to believe with Temari's outgoing personality—but that's where she rethinks her assessment, finding there's a shyness to her she tends to hide a bit too well. "It's hard enough as it is on my brothers, I wouldn't want to burden them any further, and the last thing I want for them is to be unhappy in my absence."

Sakura inches forward, grip tightening around her glass—how would her family and friends feel if she'd decide to leave? "I'm sure they'd want you to be happy, be it here or in Konoha."

Temari takes in her words, mulls on them before speaking in a more subdued tone: "I feel it's my responsibility as the eldest to watch out for them, to be there when they need me—like mom would have been."

She understands that feeling, knows what it's like to want to protect those close to you—which is why she also knows the toll it can take on a person. "You're not their mother though," Sakura tries, careful in her approach. "And it's okay to admit if you need them too." Who does she need?

Temari nods, releases a shaky breath, hands balled to fists in her lap. She opens her mouth, then closes it several times, searching for words Sakura knows aren't easy to grasp. "I love them so much," she admits then.

Sakura smiles, confident in what she's about to say. "They know." She can tell from their shallow bickering, their constant fussing over each other; there's a lot of love between these siblings, even if they might not easily admit so. "What does Shikamaru say?"

Temari releases a sigh, slumps in her seat as she takes another gulp, then says: "he's told me he wouldn't mind moving here—it's just all his friends, his family, everyone lives in Konoha. Compared to me he'd have a lot more to give up. I don't want to ask that of him."

Sakura considers it, watching her water move within its glass. She feels like she has a lot of friends too, as well as two parents who love her—but, if she's honest, most of her friends have moved on without her, and she doesn't have any siblings either. "But maybe that's why it's more difficult; it's just the three of you, take one away and the impact is much more significant." She looks up, meets Temari's gaze, watches as the blonde puffs up her cheeks before releasing another long breath.

"Please stop making so much sense."

She chuckles at that, happy to see a smile dawn on Temari's lips. She likes the blonde, can easily see why Shikamaru likes her too; she's brave, beautiful, and above all she's kind. If Temari were to stay in Suna... would Sakura feel more welcome here?

"I'd always wondered what kind of person Gaara would take an interest to,"Temari says through an amused smirk. "Somehow you make perfect sense." She pauses, smile growing, adding a mischievous flicker to her eyes. "And you're pretty too."

Sakura can feel the familiar flush of her skin, warming her cheeks, the steamy air stuck in her lungs. "It's really not like that..." she tries; after all, wasn't it Gaara who'd said he didn't want a relationship? Still, she's no fool either, and she doesn't doubt she's the first he's been this affectionate with; he's hers too. Never before has she spent the night with a man, or allowed any to touch her the way he does. When she thinks about it, she's surprised at the level of intimacy between them, going beyond any type of friendship she's ever had.

"If that's what you believe then you haven't been paying attention." Temari sits back, crosses her legs. "Either way, he's unusually fond of you."

Sakura manages a shy smile, sees the truth in Temari's words. Swallowing her nerves, she hesitantly allows herself to be honest. "I'm fond of him too." Fumbling with her necklace, she tries to muster the courage to go on. "You're not afraid I'll hurt him?"

Temari smiles warmly, tipping her head. "We're always at risk of hurting each other, we shouldn't let a fear of it come in the way of something potentially beautiful—after all, no life worth living comes without its troubles."

She's right, Sakura thinks, and she's left feeling lighter in its certainty.

"Now come, let's get this mud off."

Temari's comfort sticks with her throughout the day, as they shop for clothes and take their time to enjoy what Suna has to offer. Sakura thinks she can get used to their cuisine, already developing a preference for their many spices and flavours. Though she and Temari weren't close in the past, their friendship now feels more familiar than she'd expect—perhaps it's the blonde's resemblance to Ino, who tends to have a similar knack for seeing right through her. Either way, Sakura enjoys her company, finding the both of them share a similar sense of humour. Temari teases her in a way she can appreciate, lightening the mood as the blonde continues hinting at something more between the Konoha kunoichi and her little brother—which, though Sakura continues to deny it, instils her with a giddiness she hasn't felt in a long while.

And despite her continued denial, she allows Temari to talk her into buying underwear that's slightly flashier than she's used to, laughing as the other insists a good set of lingerie is as important as any article of clothing—be it seen or not.

"A woman should be permitted to feel beautiful," the blonde reasons, "besides, there's nothing better than having a fun little secret." She winks, earning another giggle from Sakura.

"To be honest, the idea does make me feel…" she hesitates, bites her lip as she feels her cheeks heat, "sexy, sort of?"

Temari releases a disbelieving snort. "Sakura you are sexy!" The taller woman wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulls her closer. "It's time you start seeing that too."

She feels a grin pull at her lips, Temari's playfulness rubbing off on her. "Who are you wing manning here; me, or your brother?"

The blonde releases a hearty chuckle, squeezes her shoulder. "Why not both?" It's then Sakura notices where she's been led, the Kazekage tower looming over her. "Speaking of, he should be done right around now."

Before she has time to process, she's pushed through double doors and taken down familiar hallways. There's a nervous flutter in her stomach, her hand firmly grasping her bags of purchases, hoping they might offer her some semblance of support. She's in front of his door before she knows it, watching as Temari knocks, then enters without hesitation.

"Get up slowpoke, I brought you a snack."

Sakura follows, eagerly takes in the sight of him behind his desk, tries to keep the excited drum of her pulse under control. His eyes lock onto his sister, take in the bags she's carrying, then shoot to Sakura.

"Did you have fun?" he asks, stacking whatever he was reading, a stiffness to his movements.

"We did, didn't we Sakura?" Temari grins.

She nods, feeling a smile stretch across her lips. "Yes, absolutely—I feel wonderfully refreshed."

Gaara nods, offers a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. She frowns, feels her stomach drop at his change of demeanour. "Actually," he starts, schooling his expression—she's surprised by her sudden inability to read him, "I do have something to discuss with Sakura, if you could leave us, Temari?"

The blonde glances between them, throws her bags over her shoulder and nods. "Alright, don't be too long though; I made reservations." She turns, sends Sakura a reassuring smile, then leaves without further comment.

Sakura watches the door close, hesitates to turn back to Gaara, wonders whatever has affected his mood. Her gaze slowly travels the floor, takes its time to lock with his. There's a nervous pit in her stomach, pulling at her limbs.

"I've spoken with Naruto..." he starts, leaning back in his chair, the news causing her to inch closer—could it be she's in trouble? "You're allowed to stay," he immediately continues, relieving some of her tension. She smiles, parting her lips to comment when he adds: "on one condition." She closes her mouth, tightens her grip around her bags, wonders whatever condition Naruto could possibly propose. Gaara remains silent for a while, perhaps weighing his words as he observes her, his gaze unusually aloof. He takes a breath, wets his lips, then says: "Sasuke's coming."

Excitement, that's what she should be feeling, right? Then why is it she can't breathe, can't think through the ringing in her ears? She swallows something thick, shifts her weight, tries not to let her emotions win. "Why?" is all she asks, shaking her head in disbelief.

Gaara leans forward, folds his hands in front of his face, remains silent for a second too long. "Naruto thinks it in your best interest you resolve whatever's troubling you."

"By sending Sasuke?" She can't believe her ears, blinks away the anger fogging her sight.

He averts his gaze, stares off into a corner, tension still evident in his features. "Perhaps he's right," he offers.

"What?" she snaps, feeling her temper flare.

His eyes return to her, take her in with an uncharacteristic detachment—but it quickly fades beneath her stare, a hint of worry returning to his features. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know, you could punch him at least."

She freezes, feels torn between a laugh and a scoff, notices Gaara appears to be in similar conflict, and deflates. She knows what's going on here, recognises his offering her an out. "Who knows. I might." She crosses her arms, her bags bumping her hip. He studies her, reluctantly lowers his guard, and she steps closer in response. "What else did Naruto say?"

"Just that he wants what's best for both of us."

In an unprovoked surge of confidence, she sits down on his desk, pinning him with her gaze. "And how would he know?"

He doesn't shrink back, meets her head on, unflinching beneath her scrutiny. "He wouldn't."

She nods, wets her lips, studies his features. Her gaze trails the places her touch has been—where he's consciously allowed it—and she once again wonders what, if not friendship, this odd intimacy between them represents. "So let's catch that reservation," she half speaks, half breathes, feeling the air leave her lungs as she pushes closer to him. She can't help the smugness settling over her, feeling a self-indulgent sense of satisfaction—she's planning her own journey, and she's more than happy to welcome the right company along.

"I'm glad you're both still in one piece: I'd hate to miss dinner."

Gaara frowns. "Don't be dramatic."

Temari raises a brow as she pushes through the double-doors, exiting the building. "I'm pretty sure Sakura nearly shat herself."

She snickers, happy to feel that familiar lightness, gaze darting between the siblings as she plays along. "I'm glad I didn't, I just got these panties."

Temari hums knowingly. "Be a real shame, they're so pretty too—you'd love them Gaara."

Sakura watches his frown deepen, confusion crossing his features. "Her underwear?"

"lingerie," Temari corrects him, "you know, like Kankuro's raunchy magazines."

He blinks, appears non-plussed at the mention. "But you just said they were pretty."

"On Sakura, yes."

His gaze darts between them, then returns to the streets ahead, clouding over with thought as his face reddens.

Sakura can't help the laughter escaping her, happy to have some payback. "We covered ourselves in mud too," she adds, inching closer, teasingly bumping his shoulder. "I think my skin might be as soft as yours now."

He hums, his face regaining its normal colour as he watches her with interest. Raising a hand, he runs his fingers down her cheek, lingering against her jaw. Her breath catches in her throat, her feet nearly tripping over themselves as they walk. He returns the limb to his side, closing his eyes as he nods. "Indeed."

"Want to feel mine too?" Temari chimes in, slapping her cheeks.

He sends her a deadpan look, crossing his arms. "No."

Sakura would have laughed hadn't she been so caught up in her own thundering pulse, her gaze taking in the surrounding people, knowing they'd all been witness to the gesture. What would they think of their Kazekage being so familiar with her? Would they welcome her here? She chews the inside of her cheek, feels flattered by his public attentions—yet at the same time wonders what might happen once Sasuke arrives. She has no idea when that could be, but knowing Naruto it's sooner rather than later. She wonders what Gaara thinks of it all: does he expect her to run to Sasuke first chance she gets? If she's honest with herself—which she hasn't been nearly enough—she doesn't know either. Such a large part of her life has revolved around him; helping him, saving him, loving him... could those feelings ever cease to be?

She dares a glance at the redhead beside her, feels her eyes drift to his lips, thinks about all the times she's wanted to kiss Sasuke's—and wonders, not for the first time, what it'd be like to kiss Gaara instead.

"What'd I miss?"

"You're looking fancy. What's up with that?"

"Well it's a special occasion."

"And?"

"And what? I can't dress up for Sakura-san?"

Temari narrows her eyes. "I know those shoes, you only wear them when you go clubbing."

"Fine," Kankuro throws up his hands, "so maybe I did have other plans. You guys should join." He turns his gaze to Sakura. "It'll be fun. Suna has some of the best bars."

Sakura looks up from the menu, eyes darting between the three siblings. "Um," she starts, lowering the paper in her hands. "I suppose I could?"

"Awesome!"

She smiles at Kankuro's enthusiasm, feeling only slightly bad for potentially disappointing him as she continues: "but only if Gaara comes."

The redhead in question wrinkles his nose, sending her a disbelieving look. "Why?"

She crosses her legs, sits back in her chair as she turns to him, the menu all but forgotten. "Because I'll be needing my escort—and besides, I could teach you more dances. It's a win-win."

"Kankuro could escort you, he's probably better at it too."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Temari says, raising a brow.

Sakura doesn't take her eyes off Gaara, tipping her head. "I don't want to dance with anyone else."

"Come on, she's your guest," Temari adds with a smirk.

Gaara crosses his arms with a frown, about to speak when a waiter comes to take their orders. Kankuro's the first to list off his choices, doing so with a fervour implying they come here often. Sakura's never heard of these dishes, opting to play it safe by ordering the same as Temari, who compliments her on her excellent taste. She smiles at the blonde, relieved she knows they have similar preferences. When the waiter leaves, all eyes return to Gaara, who stiffens in his seat.

"What?" he asks, glancing around the table.

"Well?" Kankuro pushes with a grin.

"Are you coming or not?" Temari smirks.

"You'd be doing me a favour," Sakura adds, smiling innocently.

His frown deepens. "I don't thi-"

"See that's the problem, little brother," Kankuro interrupts, leaning closer, "you think too much. Sakura-san is right, you should come, let loose a little."

Temari nods. "For once, I agree."

Gaara closes his eyes, sighs, runs a hand through his hair, then looks at Sakura. "Fine," he concedes.

Kankuro cheers, pumping a fist in the air, ignoring Temari's complaints at him bumping the table.

"Thanks," Sakura smiles, genuinely excited, "I'll make sure you won't regret it."

He studies her, probs his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. "I'm counting on that." There's the makings of a smile on his lips, directed only at her.

"You'll never want to go home after this, Sakura-san," Kankuro boasts, a grin baring his teeth.

"Just Sakura is fine," she offers, waving a hand, flattered by Kankuro's persistent show of respect.

"Nonsense," he quickly dismisses her, "you saved my life, remember."

Sakura falters, about to insist it wasn't a big deal when she stops herself—because it was, and it is, to him. He would be dead, simple as that, had she not been there.

"You have my eternal gratitude," he continues, smiling warmly.

She nods, wrings her napkin as she searches for what to say.

"I also wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," Gaara adds, her eyes shooting to his, shaking her head as she shrinks beneath their sudden praise.

"I didn't do that much," she offers, smiling weakly. "Lady Chiyo was the one to save you."

Gaara frowns. "She couldn't have beat Sasori without you."

"He's right," Kankuro says, distracted as their food arrives, hungrily eyeing his steaming dish.

"Like it or not, our family is indebted to you," Temari grins, squeezing her hand affectionately. "You'll always have a place with us."

Sakura is stunned to silence, gaze traveling the table, taking in their welcoming faces. "I don't know what to say," she admits, swallowing against the sting of her throat, realising that no matter what she ends up deciding, they'll support her.

Gaara's smile reaches his eyes now, reshapes the black around them into an expression of tenderness. "You don't have to say anything," he reassures, his hand wrapping around hers, placing a set of chopsticks in her hold, "just eat."

A/N: I know this took a while, it's always hard to continue after such an emotional shift, so I really had to think very hard on where Sakura is right now, and of course where she'll be going these coming chapters. My pneumonia has also reared its ugly head, so I've been pretty miserable, but luckily it's only been one lung this time. I'm back on track now that I've figured out where to go from here, so hopefully updates will be faster. Thanks for all the tremendous support so far! Your comments have all been so kind, it means the world! Stay safe, and until the next chapter. (Will Sasuke be there? WHO KNOWS!)