A/N: Ahh, this update is way overdue! My schedule has been crazy, and it's been hard finding time to write (I'm honestly upset about my lack of a writing routine). Expect slow updates for a while, especially since I have to make time for another project for the upcoming GaaSaku Fan Fest.

Ok, enough said. Here is the chapter most of you, if not all, have been waiting for!

Chapter 17

He sensed a pair of eyes bear down on him, as he recited his recommended provisions to the sponsorship agreement for the Chuunin Exams. The supposed bilateral discussion about the events' logistics in the Hokage's office was starting to devolve into a monologue from his part; silent scrutiny, the other.

Productivity wasn't on the Hokage's agenda today, Gaara surmised, as he drew his focus from the written bullet points in his hands to his equal sitting across the table. The unheralded halt in his speech didn't ruffle the Leaf's leader, nor did the fact that he'd caught the blond in the middle of his overt observation. Auroral turquoise leveled with electric blue. Naruto's stare was unapologetic, intentional.

Neither retreated from the contact, and this exchange triggered Gaara's recollection of their recent interactions. The peculiarities in Naruto's behaviors over the past couple of weeks were perceptible. Collectively, they along with the delegates from the other villages were making headlong progress in outlining the sponsorship requirements; but the process seemed to stall when it came to fleshing out individual requisites for each village, or rather Suna's in particular, as far as he was concerned. Not that he was too bothered by the pace of work they've lapsed into—which, in turn, could delay his departure from Konoha...

Nonetheless, these oddities in his counterpart's mannerisms didn't sit well with him. In their private meetings, Naruto often appeared disconnected from their discourse. Gaara was on the receiving end of either glazed looks from him or unshaken appraisals such as the one he was subjected to now.

There was something simmering in those sky-like eyes, which have evidently strayed from the notes on the table too long for Gaara to believe his own input was of any value. It was time to intervene, the Kazekage decided, if any barriers were to be cleared for their communications to be meaningful. More importantly, it was his duty as a friend to engage Naruto candidly and extend a helping hand in the likelihood that his peer might be harboring some type of stress.

The papers in his hands now lied flat against the table surface. Gaara positioned his entwined fingers before him.

"Your thoughts?"

He'd purposely made his question ambiguous, yet open-ended to cue his welcome of any contributions that might not even be related to the topic at hand.

A twitch flitted across the pensive line of Naruto's mouth. His lips tightened before they parted. Still, words didn't come ready to him as he dithered in his muteness and pivoted on accepting the implicit invitation for a honest conversation.

Naruto's face twisted. The quiet struggle behind the blond's expression told Gaara that a bit of encouragement from his end was in order. "Naruto—"

What cut him short came from across the room, knocks in a set of two distinct firm taps on the door to the Hokage's office. Their privacy was disrupted, as Naruto tore himself away from their eye contact and tilted his head toward the entrance. He answered curtly, "Yes?"

The noise of the door cracking open dragged both of their focus to the source. The instant that the unannounced visitor made his appearance was the instant that Gaara went stock-still. The tension that immediately brewed within him pulled one by one the muscles in his body taut.

The person that imposed his presence on them was one he hasn't seen for the better of a decade, one he didn't expect to see, and one he had no desire whatsoever to see. The face of the man looked weathered from travel, with its tint of tan and faint lines prematurely forming by the corners of his mouth and the lonesome eye that was unhidden by the wave of jet black hair. The visible changes that added some years to his visage did nothing to obscure his ominous identity, nor did the long cloak that camouflaged his tall figure.

There was no mistake.

"Sasuke!"

Naruto shuffled to rise from his chair. Palms pressed against the table, the blond uttered with awakened enthusiasm while the redhead remained a statue in his seat, as well as a radical contrast to his friend's warm demeanor given his frigid expression and callous gaze.

"It's great to have you back!"

The buoyant greeting from the Hokage was met with a crisp wordless nod, before the visitor set his obsidian eye on the one seated.

"Kazekage," with a monotone he acknowledged, a favor that Gaara most decidedly did not return as he assessed the foreign company in his enduring silence.

Sasuke Uchiha. He growled voicelessly. His spine painfully straight, his jaw locked hard, he fought the involuntary need to seethe with conscious control. It was without question that his initial distaste for the dark-haired man has evolved over time, swelling tenfold at the very moment; loathing for the Uchiha came natural to Gaara now more than ever. It became an instinct.

Given his current environment, however, Gaara could only bridle these impulsive feelings underneath a mask of composure, leaving no outward signs to his unrest.

He was not spared another glance after, as Sasuke rested his attention back on the Hokage. He spoke and trailed off in his sentence consciously, "Naruto, your summon..."

Naruto nodded to the reference, a small smile lighting up his features along with his instruction. "We'll talk later. Go home first. I'm sure Sakura-chan will be thrilled to see you."

What finally loosened his rigid posture was a wave of tremors that ran through his body. The urge to clench his hands made his nails scrape marks on the papers beneath. His reaction wasn't stemmed from fear, Gaara ascertained. He had nothing to fear from the man that he didn't welcome. Yet, logic dictated that he had every reason to fret from Sasuke's sudden return, precisely because of his own unsanctified relation with Sakura Uchiha.

The inner demons that Gaara didn't know he hosted sprung forth to perceive the dark-haired man as a threat—one that would undoubtedly uproot his routine, strip him of the sense of normalcy and comfort that he'd gotten himself used to. One that could stake his claim over these indulgences that he, in reality, held no rights to...

Gaara's eyes narrowed.

The rising dark impulses were perhaps symptoms of his vices, the selfish desires that he could no more abandon than the reality that was his loneliness even into adulthood.

There was no denying that he'd grown envious of Sasuke, whom he deemed unmerited for the blessings in his life. It was easy to breed hatred from envy, much more would be to give in to this tantalizing feeling and let it be the whole of him.

Yet his higher brain compelled him to stay grounded, to analyze, as he was trained to do in any trying situation. It was certainly trying to have to suppress the rush of malicious sentiments while maintaining an air of calm in concert. He had no right to to judge, to covet, the voice of reason in his head insisted over the subconscious demand to act on his animus against the Uchiha. In the end, his continued immobile state was the product of the clash between his rationality and his emotions for control. Given this impasse that seized his concentration, Gaara had hardly registered his surroundings until the sound of the footsteps in the direction of the exit made him aware again of his present setting. Sasuke was leaving.

He had brief seconds to take in the sight of the departing man's back before the door to the Hokage's office was open and shut. The Uchiha was gone. Yet, jade eyes seared the spot where the dark-haired man once stood long after he'd taken his leave.

From the other side of the table, a clearing of the throat finally forced those seafoam eyes back on Naruto. The Hokage was again seated in his chair, in his hands were the documents that he'd neglected during the beginning of their meeting.

"Now where were we?"

A grin played at the blond's lips, and Gaara simply stared; only now mildly mindful of his increased heart rate, as well as the irony that was now his heavy, ailing reticence versus his counterpart's reanimated countenance. There was a sheen of something stirring in his cerulean orbs, but as Naruto lowered his gaze to the texts in front of him, it'd disappeared too quickly for Gaara to try to decipher.

These days lethargy plagued her again. Everything she did she took more time, more energy, and more mental effort. It felt as though gravity's effect on her body had amplified, and there was an unliftable weight over her chest suffocating her. Her green eyes dropped to her hands that lagged in their assignment on the chopping board. Really, as lacking as her cooking skills were sometimes, it shouldn't take her more than ten minutes to dice one tomato.

She wasn't supposed to be like this; not now, when she should be rejoicing in her salvation from the loneliness-brimmed misery that would normally make her feel this way. Those rose-colored lenses given by her savior that framed her world into an idyllic scene were snatched away. Instead, she was dumped over the head with a ice cold bucket of reality.

And it was all thanks to her cruel friend.

In her bitterness, Sakura blamed him, cursing him within the privacy of her mind with all the colorful language she could conjure up. Still, she knew Naruto deserved none of her surly words. She hasn't seen him since their confrontation in his office days ago, going out of her way to avoid even the general vicinity of the administration buildings. But this episode between them has constantly loomed over her like a dark premonition, sapping away her spirit and filling her with mind-numbing dread.

There was no point now to obsess over how or why she'd been discovered. Her dirty secret was out, and that was the bottom line.

More than the curtailed conversation (if one could even call it a conversation) they parted at when she mutinously stomped out of his office without having any more of it, what rattled her was her friend's stone-hard expression that seemed to foretell his resolve for action. Just re-picturing his harsh gaze could have her wilt so easily.

What was Naruto going to do? She shuddered thinking about the possibilities, her mind refusing to dwell on the one that would cause all sorts of horror surge through her.

Finally taking notice of the tomato that was rather mangled from her distracted knife work, Sakura chewed on her lip and her face formed a grimace.

Things might have been simpler if she'd chosen the path of alcoholism instead of infidelity to slap a bandage over her problems. At least there was still a good chance that she could be functional in her life without as much anxiety and guilt chaining her down. Her former mentor, the awe-inspiring Godaime Hokage, was an emulatable example.

While she remained tight-lipped about her side of the news, Sakura was antsy to know if Naruto had similarly approached Gaara. Given the inter-village meetings that were taking place due to the preparations for the Chuunin Exams, there was no doubt that those two have interacted face-to-face. Has Naruto said anything to Gaara? During her time with the redhead, however, he hasn't indicated anything was amiss; his gestures were still as affectionate as ever...

So she stubbornly clung to the status quo, without so much as whispering a syllable to her red-haired lover about their mutual friend's knowledge of their illicit affair. Whether her silence was out of denial or stupidity, Sakura didn't know.

It was probably both, with the latter being more in the mix.

Maybe Naruto had realized it wasn't his place to get involved and decided to keep quiet? She'd like to fantasize that this was the case. This way, she was also clinging to her hope that things would just blow over in time and she could still emerge emotionally unscathed from all this mess...

At this notion, Sakura cringed with some exasperation.

This level of ignorance? It flabbergasted even herself, and she wondered just how far her denial could carry her…

Came then the announcement of a guest, a few clear knocks on the front door that snapped her out of her pensiveness and her head perked up. Speaking of the meetings for the Chuunin Exams, Gaara had mentioned that he'd stop by this evening if his appointments at the Kage tower were to wrap up early. The thought of seeing him spurred a soft smile to break free despite her gloom; so she contently wore it on her expression, choosing to be resigned to this incongruity between her moods. He just had this kind of unexplained effect on her.

"I'll get it!" Half across the room, Sarada volunteered as she sprinted toward the apartment's entrance, her voice merry.

Hurriedly, Sakura scooped up the unevenly cut pieces of tomato from the chopping board and mixed them with the rest of the vegetables in the salad bowl. Wiping her hands on her apron, she proceeded to set up the dinner table, grabbing several serving spoons out of the drawers along the way.

As Sakura exited the kitchen to make her way to the dining table, she was made to pause by the audible high-pitched gasp that went through the foyer.

"What's the matter?" Curiously, Sakura slanted her body into the hallway, expecting to be greeted by a certain redhead and his infectious smile that she'd been missing.

But when her eyes darted over her daughter's form and toward the figure that occupied the door frame, she felt all the blood drain from her face. Nothing had prepared her for an appropriate reaction at the sight before her. She was instantly struck motionless. Her eyes rounded achingly; and her brain was starting to short-circuit, unable to process the situation.

As unexpected as he was familiar, the visitor appeared before them, in all his stark monochromatic features. The fine details of his visage that had become blurred in Sakura's memory over the years were now displayed anew in front her in high definition: His jawline was sharper; his chin, more pointed. His black hair had grown untamed and longer, covering more of his face than she remembered. The hollowness under his dark eye told the fatigue of his long journeys.

With a protruding hand gently rested on Sarada's head, the man soon lifted his gaze toward Sakura. The ends of his lips quirked up ever so slightly into a smile that did not warm her heart. His deep voice penetrated her hearing, one that instead chilled all of her insides:

"I'm home."

Her grip loosened, sending the utensils in her palm clattering to the floor by her feet.