She takes a deep breath. Counting as she does. Five and she moves on, leaning fully on the wall for support. She locks the door and somehow she makes it back into the kitchen, to the bar. With trembling limbs she sits. She's made everything worse. She tucks her head in her hands. So much worse.

Eventually her breath evens out, her vision clears enough to stare at the white styrofoam, the burger and fries. She's not sure how long she stares, but only when her stomach rolls violently does she move. She shuts the container. Her eyes land on Madara's unfinished container, and she closes that too. Anger returns, and she snatches both containers and dumps them into the garbage.

But the smell of grease doesn't seem to leave and it just makes her want to vomit. She rips the garbage bag from the can and goes outside.

She freezes on her porch steps. Madara's back, leaning over her railing smoking a cigarette staring at the tree in her yard. He acknowledges her by tapping his ash off into her bushes. He doesn't turn his head, but his gaze follows her from the corner of his eyes.

She ignores his presence, her grip tightening on the bag, no sign of weakness, and continues with the chore of taking out the garbage, slamming the can lid with a bit more force than necessary. When she turns around, she realizes her show was for naught. Madara is gone. And he isn't in his car.

He's back in her house.

How dare he.

Sakura takes the steps two at a time and rips open her door. He's not in the foyer. Not in the kitchen.

She finds him on the couch, his head in his hands massaging his temples.

She presses a hand down on the arm rest, leans directly into his face. "When I said to get out of my house, I meant stay out." Her fist behind her is curled, ready to strike. Every part of her wants to grab this man out by the collar of his shirt.

He raises his head. He looks tired, judgment and anger gone from his eyes. "I've very few rules I live by. But one rule is that I don't leave people like this."

"Like what? Angry?" because she's got a lot of fury bubbling in her stomach she wants to let out. And -

"I don't leave people when they aren't thinking clearly, and they're not themselves. I leave people angry all the time."

Sakura removes her hand and leans away. She straightens, makes herself taller. "I am thinking clearly and am myself; I need you to leave."

His head drops back into his hands, he's back to rubbing his temples. "You got back to your place after 12 am, that's four hours of unaccounted time. Either speaking to… Sai… or doing who knows what. That isn't thinking clearly. And no offense, I truly don't mean it, you look close to a mental breakdown, even your hands are shaking. They have since you got home. It's two am, you've been like this for at least an hour, likely over an hour."

It makes her look down. Her hands are trembling. She hadn't even noticed. She tightens them back into fists, it helps just a little. "I'm just angry." No, underneath the bubbling anger, she's terrified. Terrified that Madara knows the truth and he doesn't have a good track record of trust. She's so stupid to have even spoken about it. She'd just been gutted by his laughter. And then to have continued the conversation about it. That had been incredibly stupid. Well she made her bed, she has to lie in it now.

He raises his head again, gaze meeting hers. "You must see that no friend would let this go."

Friend. Right. "You don't understand. If you just knew Sai."

"I do understand. This is half my job, most of my job if I'm being honest. Finding out what is really going on, why a daughter or son has weird bruises. Which inevitably leads to the nice husband or wife that everyone adores being shown for what they really are. Or I get paid to monitor and keep away people like him from people like you. Only the circumstances are unique, but this." He motions a hand at the painting. "He fucking painted you, yeah? That's an abuser, reminding the victim about control. Blackmail of nudes, a text, postcards, facebook messages, flowers dropped off at the office. It's the same script. That isn't an apology."

"If you knew Sai–"

He cuts her off. "I do know people like Sai and that's enough. I can imagine any one of them and be right on the money."

"You'd be wrong."

He ducks his head back into his hands, this time pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I used to think of myself above my clients who'd take a look at my photographs, hard evidence, and still not believe the truth. I thought to myself, I'd notice if something was off about someone, I could sniff it out. That there was no way I'd leave someone I cared about to be treated like a —" He cuts off whatever he's about to say, mouth clicking shut. He raises his head. He points at her, anger in his scrunched brow, "I got halfway to my fucking car, keys in hand."

"And you should have left. I don't need your help."

He extends his hand out, motioning to the seat on the couch away from him. "Let's chat about that."

She doesn't take a seat. Her glare, increasing in intensity. She has to stay angry.

"I'm trying to be a good person here. Please, let's just chat."

They'd already chatted. "Fuck off."

"Alright, how about you answer this for me, and we'll call this done and over. You what, spoke to him for an hour or more on your car ride telling him no and he finally got it or is he going to call you again tomorrow?"

The question takes the wind out of her sails. Her phone is in her pocket, still off. She is going to have to deal with all the messages, because it's Sai and he'd call back. Multiple times. She will need to call him back tomorrow. She dreads it. Her hesitation is the answer he needs.

"Why is he going to call again and what is he going to say?"

"I didn't call him back, after…" she lets her voice trail off. "So no, it's not over. I'll need to call him back and say no." The tips of her fingers feel cold and she crosses her arms.

Madara has become perfectly still, his expression pinched but there is no longer a glare. He looks old. He raises his gaze to track her as she starts to move. "But I heard you, on the phone, saying no already. I think I counted at least eight of them. What will make this no different?"

She does take a seat, as far away from Madara as she can on the couch. "It takes a few more times to get through to Sai." She pulls her legs onto the couch, as if to put a barrier between them.

He shifts as well, turning to face her as he gives a hum in the back of his throat. "I see. And what is stopping you from not answering the call and blocking him from re-calling you. A no, as I see it, is a no. Is your answer going to ever change?"

"No," she says immediately, her fingers digging into her armpits. "But he's in a different country; he doesn't have contacts here. If something happens to him… he would be one of those people on a street corner."

"Ok," he says. "Let's break that down. If something happens to him overseas, he needs a contact here to help him get home and back on his feet, right?"

She gives a nod.

Madara leans forward and she uses her heels to push herself further into the corner of the couch.

He motions with his hand, at her. "Why are you obligated to do this?"

"Because he is an old friend."

Madara points to the painting. "No, he isn't. Try again. Why are you obligated to do this?"

"I promised his father," Sakura bites out. "On Danzo's death bed, I promised I'd help take care of him. Make sure he'd be ok. Sai can barely manage on his own." The man had known it, too. It was why he'd ask Sakura when Sai'd left the room.

"So if someone else fulfilled this obligation, then what. Could you go through life happy to never hear his voice again?"

"Yes," her words come out like a hoarse whisper after crying. If she had peace of mind that he wouldn't find himself on the streets and dead, she'd be happy to never get a call or text from him again.

Madara extends his hand to her, tapping her leg."Alright. Give me your phone."

Sakura bolted back, butt moving to the armrest and further away from Madara."Wait, what?"

"Once I have his contact information, I'll check in on him weekly or more than likely will pay another PI to do so. You will get monthly status reports. In return, he doesn't get to contact you again without your expressed permission."

"I'm not going to have you pay-"

He drops his hand. "Then pay me. This is my line of expertise."

"But-"

"But what, do you want him to contact you or not? I've given you your out."

"No, I don't want him to contact me." Not ever again, especially not for the same reason, over and over. She slides back down and into the seat.

"Then take it. Take your out. Or some sick fucking part of you wants the call. Which fine, be honest to yourself then. How long has this been going on anyway, is this his weekly cadence?"

She drops her legs and pushes herself forward, clearing the space of the cushion between them. She snarls, "Just today, I've not spoken to him in at least a year."

"Good." Madara extends his hand again, this time not touching her or reaching very far. He holds her gaze. "Then that shows he doesn't need to ever contact you again. He sounds like he is doing fine on his own."

"But -" she shrinks back.

"He is attempting to exploit you."

Her body stiffens and she holds herself in place. "I am aware of that." How could she not be?

"Well, at least we agree on something." He heaves a sigh then, and drops his gaze from hers. "Look, I'll block his number, delete his info. It will be like he never existed. You get a call from out of the country, just stop the call. If he gets a new number, I'll show you how to do this for yourself. Okay?"

Madara pats the couch cushion beside him, just once. "You've got to see this isn't healthy. Not for him and not for you."

With some trepidation Sakura inches closer and sits on the cushion beside him.

"Your phone?" he asks, but he does not extend his hand for it. Instead he remains perfectly still.

She pulls out her phone and powers it on. The text messages are first. Ping. Ping. Ping. Over and over. Sai's retentive texting, six times before calling, came through loud and clear. She can see the notification for voicemails soon after.

Her nausea grows, but she unlocks her phone. 24 messages, 6 voicemails all from him. She really doesn't want to deal with this right now. "How do I block his number?"

"Send me his contact info first, and then I'll show you the steps."

She looks up and watches Madara. Would he follow through? Would he really help Sai? Unlikely. No, all she really wants to do is vomit.

"Would you prefer I recommend another PI business, or one of my associates? Aoi would love a new case."

Sakura inspects the floor, "How much does this cost a month?"

"$125 an hour is pretty average. Assuming you're right, Sai is not malicious and he'll let someone call and talk to him for ten minutes a week. From my PI business, $60 a month. Another PI business will round up the hour, probably only call once a month and send updates right after. I'll draw up a contract tomorrow if you want."

It almost seems too good to be true. She watches Madara's face for any sign of insincerity.

"I want a contract."

"Done, I'll have it for you by tomorrow. We can stop this tonight though."

With trepidation she sends the contact information to Madara. "How do I block his number?"

"I'll show you." Madara extended his hand out.

She hands it over.

But he doesn't block the number, at least not yet. He opens the messages Sai's sent.

Sakura

Sakura

Sakura

Sakura

Sakura

Ugly

Repeat. Repeat. She can almost hear Sai saying the words aloud.

"Interesting." Is all Madara comments as he scrolls up to see previous messages from years ago, all just the same as before. Sai preferred speaking on the phone rather than texting.

She feels the need to explain. "It's just a pet name."

His fingers stop on the screen, his gaze lifts to her face. "His pet name, for you, is ugly?"

She bites her lip. "It just looks bad."

"I'm sure it's the way it looks."

Her stomach reacts then, bile fills her mouth and she rushes into the restroom to retch.

Footsteps follow until she actually pukes. The footsteps pause at the bathroom entrance. "My bad, I thought you were just going to run away again. You've a flight instinct I've never seen before in my life, you just keep going. Figured at this rate, you'd be gone for a day or more."

She turns to curse at him, but instead is forced to lean back over the toilet and puke some more.

Her hair is swept up by a hand, getting it out of her face. She glances up. Madara is holding her phone to his ear with his other hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Listening to your voicemail messages from Sai. You've one from Kakashi as well, but I didn't listen to that one."

She tries to get to her feet but her stomach protests and she's back to upchucking nothing but bile. "Why? Just stop."

"I'm doing my job. I'm trying to understand what kind of person he is. I'll delete the messages after, unless you want to hear them."

Did she? She already knew what would be in them. She spits into the toilet to try and get rid of the taste. "Anything important?"

"A half-assed apology for inviting an almost stranger to Paris, unless he read it right and we are together. In that case he's more than happy to accommodate us, pay all our expenses and then some. He's got some nice satin sheets he'll have laundered fresh upon our arrival."

She vomits again, this time a bit more liquid comes up but her throat burns. She wishes she hadn't asked.

"The rest of the messages are more or less the same. Less of an apology and more of getting you on a flight to France."

She wants to slam her head against a wall, Sai, why? "Just delete them."

"Done."

Another hand is upon her then, a touch to the back of her neck and then to her forehead. "I think you're running a fever."

"Just stress."

"You almost projectile vomited, not sure if that is stress. More like you're sick."

"Fuck off, Madara," but it holds no weight, her heads is back in the toilet and she upchucks bile. Her stomach rolls even more.