.

.

FIRST INTERLUDE

Found the Place to Rest My Head

.

.

November, 6 years ago

Naruto and Kakashi wait outside the hospital for him in typical fashion: Naruto grinning and waving (as if Sasuke could possibly miss them, when they're ten feet from the exit) while Kakashi reads one of his beat-up Icha Icha novels. Sakura, however, is not in typical fashion.

Because she isn't even here.

It feels like his insides have been wrenched slightly to the right, throwing him off-kilter. Or maybe he's simply overbalanced because he only has one fucking arm now.

Naruto's wide smile falls. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sasuke says tightly. "Let's go."

Where's Sakura?

The question burns on his tongue, but he can't ask it. After everything he's done to her, she owes him nothing.

Kakashi closes his book, slips it into his pocket, and says, "You look better."

Than what? Sasuke thinks.

Better than the sorry state he was in a month ago? Malnourished, battered to hell, with a fresh amputation? Not exactly a high bar.

Sasuke just nods.

He glances left and right, searching for a flash of pink hair. Sakura hasn't visited as often as Naruto since he was discharged—those damn jinchuuriki healing abilities got him released remarkably fast—but she has been around more often than Kakashi. So why is his lazy sensei here and not her?

"You looking for Sakura?" Naruto asks.

Sasuke reaches to rub his forehead, only to realize for the one thousandth time that he doesn't have a left hand. And that he apparently touches his face a lot.

"No," he lies.

"It's okay."

Naruto claps him on his shoulder. His left shoulder, and Sasuke hisses.

"Sorry! I forgot you…"

"Don't heal at the speed of sound?" Sasuke asks dryly.

Naruto scratches the back of his head, a gesture so reminiscent of a simpler time that Sasuke's irritation dulls down to something smaller and sadder.

"It's not that Sakura doesn't want to see you!" Naruto says. "It's just that she got back from her mission at like midnight, and she's been up ever since cleaning her house, 'cause it was kind of a wreck—"

"It's fine. You don't have to explain."

He really, truly, does not want to hear about how Sakura prioritized household chores over him.

"Uh, the thing is I kind of do have to explain…"

Sasuke waits, but Naruto is hesitating. Naruto almost never hesitates.

"Well, what is it?"

"Yanno how I said you could live with me after you got discharged?" Naruto asks.

"Yes," Sasuke says slowly.

"I was out-voted."

Kakashi strides forward, without looking back, and says, "Get a move on. The sun is out, and I burn easily."

Naruto jogs to catch up to Kakashi. Sasuke follows at a more sedate pace. He's not running after anyone ever again.

"What do you mean out-voted?" Sasuke asks. "Out-voted by who?"

"By me and Sakura," Kakashi says. "You just came home, and we don't want to scare you off by leaving you in that dump Naruto is renting."

"Hey!" Naruto yelps. "My apartment isn't that bad. It's just—"

"A dump," Kakashi says again.

"So I'm staying with you?"

Even as Sasuke asks the question, he knows the answer is one he's not going to like. No more than he likes the way his sensei is smiling. He can't see it, but Kakashi's dark eyes crinkle at the corners, a sure sign that he finds something funny.

"Ah, no," Kakashi says. "I like my own space, and Naruto and I don't have spare bedrooms anyway."

Sasuke stops in the middle of the street. The villagers rushing around him sound like waves crashing against a cliff, there can't possibly be a thousand birds singing overhead, and the wind is rustling through the trees at defeating volume. Everything is too loud and too close, here and there, real and not real—

Naruto grabs his good arm, jolting Sasuke back to earth.

"Hey," Naruto whispers. "Sakura is happy to have you. It's gonna be fine."

Happy to have him. Because he's so worth having, in any capacity.

"I can feel my face freckling," Kakashi calls back to them.

It seems he never stopped walking.

Naruto hurries after him, saying, "That's bullshit, Kakashi-sensei! You're covered from head to toe."

"I'm very pale, Naruto. I can burn through this mask."

"No, you can't! Wait… can you?"

Sasuke takes a deep breath, sighs, and follows the idiot half of Team 7 toward the only one of their squad with any damn sense.

Although, if she's letting him live with her, maybe Sakura still isn't so sensible where he's concerned.

.

.

An alarm goes off while Sakura is kneeling on her guest bathroom floor, scrubbing the tub. The tinny sound chirps through her whole house, like an angry, aggressive bird.

"Dammit," Sakura groans.

It's 10 a.m. Which means Naruto and Kakashi must be picking up Sasuke right now. She's been up for a day and a half, first on her mission, then awake all night cleaning. It's not that she lives like a pig (like some knuckleheaded ninja she knows), but she can only afford this airy, two-story house six blocks from the hospital by making a few compromises. Namely, that she'll be spending time and money on home improvement so the owner won't have to, because the family who rented here before her absolutely wrecked the property, inside and out. And the guest bedroom—formerly the domain of two small children—got the worst of it.

She only moved in after the war ended. Which feels like a hundred years ago and yesterday at once. The reality is three weeks and six days, which hasn't been nearly enough time to turn this house around entirely.

And now Sasuke will be here in ten minutes.

She needs to speed shower and change into the casual-but-not-too-casual outfit she picked out last night. Maybe throw on some lipstick if she has—

The doorbell rings, cutting through the noise of the shrill alarm clock.

Naruto picked up Sasuke early. Naturally.

Sakura scrambles to the living room to shut up the alarm, take off her apron, and toss it into the coat closet. She's not even sure why she's hiding it, and doesn't have time to figure it out, because Naruto is now knocking on her door and shouting, "You home, Sakura?"

She yanks open the front door and snaps, "Yes, I'm home."

Naruto holds up his hands, blue eyes wide. "Sorry!"

Kakashi looks her up and down, chuckling. Probably because she's wearing her rattiest clothes, which are covered in dirt, dust, and grease. She gives him a stony smile, and his chuckle roughens into a cough. Then he taps the top of his head, and Sakura snatches the kerchief off of her own.

She leans around Kakashi and Naruto to find Sasuke lingering well behind them. Standing on the sidewalk rather than her stoop. It's absolutely criminal that a man just discharged from the hospital, still recovering from a grievous injury and dressed in donated clothes, can look so beautiful. His hair is a mess, he's too thin, and dark shadows encircle his eyes, but he's still handsome enough to put other men to shame.

Be brave.

She's not a scared little girl anymore, who trailed behind him begging for scraps of affection. But he won't know that if she cowers in her own doorway.

"Hi, Sasuke," she says, in a clear, welcoming voice. "Do you want to come in?"

He looks at her, something flashing in his mismatched eyes. She's not used to that yet, the rinnegan that has stolen so much expression from the one part of him she could read.

Sasuke climbs the four steps up to her door, and then they're standing on even ground. Not quite eye to eye, because he's so much taller than her now. She's not used to that either.

Sakura steps aside, letting him by. When Naruto starts to follow, Kakashi grabs his shoulder and turns him around.

"Hey! Why can't I visit too? I wanna—"

Kakashi whispers something too low for Sakura to catch, but whatever it is immediately has Naruto changing his tune.

"Oh, yeah, okay." He waves at Sakura over his shoulder. "I'll come by tomorrow. We can get Ichiraku for breakfast—"

"Dinner," Kakashi corrects, half-dragging him along.

"Wait!" Sakura says. "You don't have to…"

But Kakashi is already gone, leading Naruto behind him like a fluffy-haired, orange puppy on a short leash.

Which leaves her alone. With Sasuke.

Sakura closes her front door, shutting out the bustling noise of the village. Autumn sunlight fills the living room, gilding motes of dust caught in its rays.

Many motes of dust.

"I'm sorry for the mess," Sakura says, gesturing helplessly at the cleaning supplies and stuffed trash bags. And the cardboard moving boxes she still hasn't unpacked, because she doesn't have room for her things until she clears out the previous renters' junk. "The people who lived here before me left this place in awful condition, and the landlord is more of a slumlord to be honest, so I'm doing all the work cleaning it up—"

"Sakura. It's fine."

She shivers, though it's not a cold day, either inside or outdoors.

Sasuke just said her name. For the first time since she saved his life, he said Sakura, and she doesn't know how to interpret that tone. Soft, gentle, understanding. Nothing like the mad, vengeful man she tried to kill, and not much like the cool, reserved boy she fell in love with either. She has no idea what to make of this new-old Sasuke, or if she should even try.

"You're probably tired," Sakura says. "I made sure to get the guest bedroom in good shape in the time I had, but the bathroom still needs work—"

Sasuke shakes his head. "I'm not tired. I've spent most of the last three weeks in bed. The last thing I want is to rest more."

"Oh."

Well. She's no better at predicting his desires than usual. At least that hasn't changed.

"Are you hungry?" Sakura asks. "I'm very familiar with the hospital's food, and it's not going to win any prizes."

"No, it's not," he agrees.

There's a touch of dry humor in his voice, and an even subtler smile curling the left corner of his mouth. Sakura swallows past the lump in her throat, then walks toward her kitchen, blinking back tears. She is absolutely not going to cry over this. Over having Sasuke in her home, alive and (mostly) in one piece, smiling at the lamest joke she's ever told.

.

.

Sasuke's first night in Sakura's house is strange. He hasn't slept in a real bed in an actual home in four years. Not since he laid that photo of Team 7 facedown and left his village—his whole life—behind. And it's been far longer since he slept in a house he shared with another person. With his family.

He turns onto his right side, then his left—

Sasuke jerks up, cradling his stump against his chest. He clenches his jaw to keep from shouting. It's not that the pain is unbearable. Sakura healed his initial wound expertly, considering the circumstances, and the other medic-nin and surgeons he's seen since have helped too. But what's left of his arm is still tender. Which might all be in his head.

Crazy.

Mad.

Not all there.

Those were the words he used to hear, when his father or uncle had something cutting to say about weaker shinobi. The ones who couldn't keep it together after too many bloody battles. Who jumped at loud noises, or kept their lovers awake as they screamed through nightmares, or attacked innocent people over simple, unthreatening touches.

Is that what he is now?

The truth about his clan broke something in him. Snapped the single, fragile thread that held his sanity together. He'd like to think he's more balanced now, but maybe his instability has just shifted in another direction, harder to see but no less dangerous. One wrong move, and perhaps he'll try to shove the chidori through Sakura's heart.

Again.

Sasuke climbs out of bed, strides to his window, and tries to open it. It's stuck, completely jammed. Without two hands, he can't jiggle it free. He's certainly strong enough to force it open with one arm—but not without tearing the damn thing out of its frame.

"Fuck!"

He didn't mean to shout or curse, but he's done both, and he can't take it back.

Sasuke isn't very surprised when Sakura knocks. He was loud enough to disturb the neighbors.

"Sasuke? Can I come in?"

Instead of answering, he opens his door.

Sakura's green eyes flick from his face to his chest, widening. He forgot to put a shirt on, and when she glances at his stump, Sasuke turns sideways, shielding his arm from her view. Which is absurd. Sakura has undoubtedly handled a hundred injuries worse than this. Hell, she handled this injury at its worst, used her own healing chakra to knit his ruined flesh together. The only reason his amputation looks as neat as it does, when it could have been truly gruesome, is because of her.

But some vain part of him hates for Sakura to see him this way. Broken, mangled, weakened. She used to look at him like he was perfect.

She doesn't look at him like that anymore. These days, she barely looks at him at all.

Sakura stares down at her own bare feet, her voice quiet as she says, "I can't sleep either. Do you want some jasmine tea? I was about to make a pot."

"Sure," Sasuke whispers. "Go ahead. I'll be along in a minute."

Sakura nods shakily, her gaze darting toward his chest again. Then his shoulders and stomach, lingering at the waistband of his pants. Nowhere near his left arm—and not because she's trying to be polite. The hungry, nervous way she's gazing at him is worlds away from being polite.

His heart pounds and his hands—hand—shakes. He curls his fingers into a fist to hide the trembling, but he can't do anything about the blood thundering through his veins. Because, despite everything, Sakura still wants him. She wants him. At least enough to look at his body with open interest, and maybe in other, more important ways too.

"Sakura."

She jumps, and Sasuke almost does too. He didn't mean to say her name that way: too low, too soft, too intimate.

Loving, even, if you know to listen for it.

Sakura turns away, hurrying to the kitchen as she babbles about how if he doesn't like jasmine tea, then she has ginger green and plain white as well…

"Jasmine is fine," Sasuke says, without giving it much thought.

How in the hell can he focus on tea when a hard truth has just been laid before him? That the love he felt for Sakura—that he thought died with Itachi—hasn't gone anywhere at all. It's been with him this whole time, buried beneath his rage but not killed by it.

And it only took one night under the same roof with Sakura for that love to flare to life, consuming him all over again.

.

.

Authors Notes: I know I said there would be one flashback chapter, buuuut it now looks like there's going to be a few interspersed throughout the rest of this fic. Which is turning out longer than I anticipated. (Because of course it is…) I put together a very thorough outline, and if I stay on track, this fic will be about twenty chapters, plus an epilogue.

If you enjoyed this little interlude, please let me know what you thought!