Chapter 23

Sakura flung the door shut behind her and paced her living room, pushing her hands into her hair while fighting down the nausea that bubbled its way up her throat. Her heart clenched painfully, and she struggled to breathe as she looked around the home—memories of Sasuke everywhere: his favorite seat at the table, the picture of the three of them in the bookcase, the color of the floor she picked because she knew it was his favorite, the basket of tomatoes on the kitchen table. The smell of him still lingered everywhere, clinging to the fabric of the couch and the wood of the table, seeped into the very foundations of the house.

' It's over ,' Sakura realized. ' He will never be able to forgive me .'

Tears streamed over her cheeks as she stood in the middle of the empty home, the silence deafening. Unable to do anything, she remained there, wrapping her arms around herself as she wept for her marriage. Every time she squeezed her eyes shut, the memories of the kiss she shared with Itachi played like a movie, and for the first time, she cursed her perfect memory.

Her knees buckled beneath her weight, and she allowed gravity to bring her down, sobbing on the floor as she remembered how Itachi had pressed his lips against hers, how his hands on her body had felt, the look in his eyes, dark, desirous, and filled with so much warmth she feared it would burn her. Burying her face in her hands, Sakura wished desperately for the power to rewind time, or forget, or simply wake up from this nightmare.

A quiet knock came at her door.

"Go away," she called weakly, knowing the only person who would knock on her door at two in the morning.

"Sakura, may I come in?"

Itachi's voice was muffled, but he sounded like she felt, and the thought pulled another sob from her throat. Unable to respond, Sakura cried. Eyes widening as she heard the door open behind her, she looked over his shoulder to find him entering the apartment, an indescribable look on his face as he slipped his key into his pocket and closed the door behind him. In two steps, he was beside her, reaching for her.

"No..." she said, shuffling away from him.

"Let me help you up," he whispered.

"Leave me alone."

"I will. But not right now."

"What do you want then?" she hissed, wiping at her cheeks as she turned her eyes to him. He looked sadder than she had ever seen him before, even on the birthday during which he appeared somewhere in the night to tell her he was now his father's age. The sight had her breath hitching in her chest, but he simply reached out to take her hand and brought her to her feet, leading her to the couch. She tried to ignore the way his warm hand felt over hers, and the fluttering in her stomach, and how cold she felt when he let go and went into the kitchen.

The light in the kitchen clicked on, and she sat in silence as she listened to him fill the boiler with water and rummage through the tea supply while he waited for the water to heat. In a way, listening to him going through these small motions was calming; her tears abated, and the nausea that had threatened to overwhelm her seemed to fade away. The guilt remained, however, a heavy stone in her stomach, shame red on her cheeks even when Itachi returned minutes later with a steaming mug of tea. He placed it before her, careful not to touch her, she noticed, then took a seat at the other end of the couch, far enough to have at least two people between them.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered hoarsely.

"You ran from my home for the second time this week," he spoke, voice soft in the night. "I regretted not going after you the first time, but I knew you would be alright. This time, I wasn't so sure."

"You're always doing that." Sakura lifted her mug in her hands, watching her distorted silhouette in the tea. "Coming after me when you think I'm not okay. You always know where to find me if I ever feel bad, or drink too much."

He let out a humorless sound. "I pay keen attention to those around me."

"Those you're fascinated with?" She had meant it to be a quiet question, to confirm what she had suspected when he talked about Akari like that, but the word tasted bitter and accusatory on her tongue.

"Those especially."

"I'm sorry," Sakura said, still not meeting his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

A sad smile pulled at her lips despite herself. Of course, he knew. It seemed sometimes that Itachi knew her better than she did. She blew on her tea, finding it an adequate distraction from the mess that currently occupied her brainpan, and sipped. It slid hot down her throat, soothing the rawness, warming her belly. "What is it about tea?" she wondered softly.

"It is always comforting."

She nodded. "I got into fights with my mother a lot when I was younger. My father would always come up to bring me a cup of tea and bad-talk her until I felt better." She snorted at the memory. "In hindsight, he was a really bad husband, but also one of the best fathers."

"That sounds like Kizashi."

"I always wondered what Sasuke would do in those kinds of situations," Sakura said, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks and into her lap. In her mind's eye, she imagined telling Sasuke what had happened between her and Itachi—scenarios varying from him storming out of the house and vanishing, to him heading toward Itachi to finish what he couldn't all those years ago to him cutting loose from Sakura forever. Her cup shook in her hands as she carefully set it on the table before crawling backward onto the couch, curling up as small as she could. "What have we done?" she whispered. "Why did I go over? Why did I move my—"

"Sakura."

"What did we do?"

"Sakura... Look at me."

"No."

"Please."

The soft way he uttered that one word, combined with the imploration, had her raising her head and peering at him from over her knees before she fully realized it.

Moonlight pooled over the sofa where he sat, looking devastated. He held his cup of tea between his legs, thumbs stroking the rim absent-mindedly as he regarded her for the longest time, a brutal sadness in his eyes as he clearly considered what to say next. "I'm sorry," he said at last, so quietly she almost missed it. The despondency she tasted in those two words nearly had her on her feet to comfort him. "I swore to you I would never do anything to endanger your marriage, but my behavior was contemptible tonight."

"I..."

"Please," Itachi said, lifting a hand to gently silence her. It seemed he was organizing his thoughts and picking out his words with the greatest care as he paused for a moment before continuing, "Over these last few years, getting to know you and Sarada and returning to a normal life, I found myself becoming attracted to you." He lifted his eyes to her, raw honesty in his dark depths. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was because you were the first person who showed me what it could be like. I substituted for Sasuke where I could, but I found myself drawn to this life—simple, warm—and when I returned home in the evenings, I wished for more of it."

Sakura's eyes filled with tears, which she tried to blink away, listening with care.

"You're a beautiful and extraordinary woman, Sakura. And Sarada is a brilliant girl. Being with her has given me a purpose other than spending my life on the road, hoping to protect the village." He smiled then. "In spite of myself, I began to crave it. A life like this. A family like this. And while doing so, I began paying more attention to you."

"Itachi..."

"Please, Sakura," he said again, setting his cup on the table. He placed his forearms on his knees, observing her earnestly. "I was selfish. I knew this attraction I felt was only increasing with time. Worse yet, I realized you might feel the same for me. I thought if we never acted upon it, it would remain where it was, a pure hypothetical. But… it seems I can't control myself when I'm with you."

The words, softly uttered but laced with so much honesty and tenderness, took her breath away.

Unable to speak, she watched as Itachi drank his tea, Adam's apple bobbing in the moonlight, until he set the cup down again. There was a question on her lips, begging to be asked, but Sakura knew he would always be honest with her... and she didn't know whether she wanted the question answered.

"I won't tell Sasuke, of course," Itachi said finally. "I meant when I said I would never endanger your marriage." An ironic smile touched his face. "I'll stay away for a while, to make things easier. Of course, if you ever need help, I'm always here for you."

"What about Sara—"

"If it's alright with you, I would like to continue visiting her. I just need time."

She nodded. Her heart hurt at the thought of Itachi being gone, but he was right. They were attracted to each other. They couldn't even be alone without being drawn to each other like moths to a flame. No matter how much she would miss him, they needed to create some distance between them. She licked her dry lips, working up the courage to speak up, when Itachi stood and made for the door.

"Itachi?"

He stopped just as he opened the door a crack, moonlight spilling over him and into the apartment. "Yes?"

"Do you think we'll ever be able to go back to what we were?"

He smiled. "I hope so."

Somehow, the fact that he didn't immediately confirm they could wounded her more than anything else that transpired that night. Her breath seized in her lungs, chest painfully restricted as she watched him turn away from her and walk out of her home. When Itachi closed the door behind him, she reached for a pillow and hugged it to her face, sobbing as she dealt with the guilt and shame of kissing her husband's brother and grieved for the loss of her best friend in her life.

Throughout the next weeks, Sakura lived like a ghost.

She put up a brave face for Sarada when she explained that Uncle Ita would be a little busy the next couple of weeks, and thankfully, her parents were more than happy to take care of Sarada during the days she worked shifts at the hospital.

But despite the help, Sakura felt the hole Itachi left in their lives—a massive, yawning hole shaped like him, always on the periphery of her mind, even when she attempted to fill her thoughts with nothing but Sarada or her work. Her only recourse was to ignore the void in the same way she ignored Sasuke's absence, though it wasn't as easy as she had hoped. Where Sasuke was a wound she could forget until prodded, every breath turned to fire in her chest as she went through her routines, trying to forget about Itachi's presence only to realize how ubiquitous he had been in her life.

He had always been there, ready to drop everything for them, seeing her off to the hospital with a kind smile while he stayed behind, dinner made by the time she returned. She missed the days when she would return to the smell of his cooking, the sound of his voice as he read to Sarada, and the quiet moments they spent together in the evenings.

Sarada put on a brave face too, perking up every time someone knocked on their door and deflating entirely when she realized it wasn't Itachi. Sakura's heart throbbed for her little girl, but she forced herself to stay strong, not to contact him. He needed time, and time was the least she could do for him while she hoped that their friendship would still be salvageable.

And yet, as she lay alone in bed at night, mind and resolve eroded after staving off the memories and emptiness, Sakura realized that saving their friendship was something that was easy in theory, but much harder in practice.

The moment of passion they shared in Itachi's apartment refused to leave her, creeping in with the onset of night as she lay beneath her sheets and desperately tried to forget about it. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw his eyes heated with desire, recalling with devastating precision how his lips had felt against hers, on her throat and beyond, how his erection had been warm and thick beneath her fingers. The memories heralded nights in which she feverishly tossed and turned, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to recite all the shinobi rules, then some of Tsunade's most boring medical tomes, then ancient poetry, and finally Sarada's books. But none of it helped. Her nights belonged to Itachi now, and to what was possibly the most passionate moment of her life—a moment that was not shared with her husband.

On one such night, Sakura slipped out of her bed, opened up the window to let in a stream of cool air, and circled around the room as her brain continued to torture her with the memory. His touch was so clear to her that she could almost feel it right then—different from Sasuke, who held her tenderly, almost as though he feared breaking her. Itachi had no such qualms; he had held her with a kind of passionate possessiveness she found addicting.

"Oh gods," she whispered, sitting on the edge of her bed, hiding her face in her hands. "I need to stop."

' Stop what?' Inner said with a grin. ' Stop imagining Itachi? Stop comparing him to your husband?'

' Not helping.'

' I know. You can't blame a girl... it was wrong, but it was also sexier than all those Icha Icha books put together.'

"I'm a horrible person," Sakura whispered.

' No, you're not. Only human .'

Just as she was about to chastise Inner for finally being somewhat kind to her when she really didn't deserve any kindness, the presence of someone appearing in her home took her by surprise. Eyes wide, she sat still for a moment, probing, until Sasuke pulsed his chakra to assure her it was him.

Before her brain caught up, Sakura was running through the hallway, down the stairs, to the living room where Sasuke stood, unbuttoning his cloak. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, a small smile playing around his lips until he noticed her crying face.

"Sakura?" he asked as she leapt into his arms.

When Sasuke pulled her into his body, she clutched at his shirt, sobbing as she inhaled him, wanting him to possess her like Itachi had, needing to feel drunk on him like she had felt drunk on Itachi.

She pushed him toward the couch, one step at a time, until he let himself drop, taking her with him. With a sling of her leg over his, she seated herself in his lap. He held her without speaking, rubbing soothing circles on her back, threading his fingers through her hair, pressing kisses against her temple while he waited for her to calm.

"Sorry," she said when there were no more tears, moving her hands from his shoulders to his chest as she took deep breaths before pulling back so she could see his face.

Her heart broke at the sight of his handsome face—confusion, pain, anger for whoever or whatever made her cry. He frowned, reaching to wipe her tears from her cheek with his thumb.

She took his hand in two of hers and nuzzled his palm. "I'm sorry."

"Are you alright?" he asked, and contained within his words, she could almost hear the ' who did this to you?' tone he once demonstrated in the Forest of Death. She smiled and closed her eyes, nodding. If Sasuke remained with her, then surely the madness would someday end—she would stop thinking about her brother-in-law like she did, finally be able to clear her mind and not grieve for someone who was still alive.

"Yes," Sakura said, meeting his mismatched eyes. Guilt surged up with the ease of her lie, but she forced it down. "I—I'm sorry how things went when you left for the Summit. I shouldn't have—I know how hard it is for you to be in Konoha, and I know it's easier for you to be away, and I know you're needed for this mission." She reached out to pass a hand over his Rinnegan. "I just... It's hard being without you. I get lonely. Sarada gets lonely. This family isn't complete without you."

"I know," Sasuke said, pushing his hand into his raven hair. "Sakura, my answer is ' yes' ."

She sat still, fingers slipping to his stomach as she let the full weight of that one singular word sink into her. He watched her, eyes serious and warm. "Really?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said again, holding her close.

Warmth flooded her chest as she studied her husband. His answer being ' yes' didn't mean he wouldn't leave again. It didn't guarantee he would stay home. It didn't even guarantee he wouldn't stay away for a year or more again. But it meant that one day, he could, and would, stay with her and their family. And for now, that would have to be enough.

"Sakura... I'm sorry."

She nodded, taking his face into her hands. "I know," she said, leaning in to kiss him. He smiled against her lips, slanting his mouth over hers, and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

Sasuke tasted and smelled like she remembered him, his lips soft against hers, powerful but gentle, his tongue slipping past her lips with practiced ease. The longer he swiped his tongue against hers, though, the more Sakura realized she needed more. She rolled her hips against him, eliciting a soft gasp from him, but none of the fire she had hoped for. Remorse swelled in her chest as she realized exactly what she wanted from her husband, a crippling shame, overlaid with dejection, knowing that Sasuke would not touch her like that and she could never ask him to.

She let him carry her upstairs, let him undress her with care. Sasuke looked down at her, taking in every detail as though it were the first time all over. She hissed as he mapped her body with his fingers, fully bared while he was still dressed, on his knees between her legs. For the briefest of moments, Sakura wondered if Itachi would have been able to see the pangs of conscience as easily on her face as he spotted Inner, but she pushed it firmly down, focusing on her husband.

"Like what you see?" she joked as he circled a finger around her breast, then down to her navel.

"Sakura..." he replied, a shy smile lighting his face as his cheeks burned.

Part of her felt like a degenerate—how could she possibly want to make love with her husband after spending days thinking about kissing Itachi? But it felt like her entire body was inundated with Itachi and she desperately needed Sasuke to cleanse her of him, to allow her to think and sleep again. She gasped as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, his fingers slipping into the folds between her legs with ease. He pushed his finger into her, slowly stretching her, drawing a soft groan from her lips before he began pumping in and out, kissing the sensitive skin of her belly. She closed her eyes, hands finding his head as she reveled in the feeling of his finger and the sensation of stretching around his second.

"Sasuke..." she whispered, peeking to see him kissing a path down to her legs, then back up to the valley of her breasts, watching her as he continued thrusting his fingers inside of her, arousal coating his cheeks. "Sasuke..." she moaned softly, her groan turning into a cut-off shriek as he placed his thumb against her clit and slowly started drawing circles around it.

Sakura reached her hands above her head, watching the erotic sight of her handsome husband between her legs, fingering her to completion while he watched her with intense eyes, mouth fallen open as he began breathing harder, his erection straining in his pants. She bit her lip when she tumbled over the edge, hands fisted in the sheets as her back arched. Registering somewhere in the back of her mind that Sasuke was pulling himself out, she pushed him over with a giddy smile and grabbed him, enjoying the hiss that spilled from his lips as she guided herself on top of him.

The sight of Sasuke, sprawled over her—their sheets—raven hair a mess, cheeks flushed, breathing hard as she rode him would never tire her. Here was one of the world's strongest shinobi, here was the boy she had loved since she was a child, watching her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, his mismatched eyes heavy-lidded. She brought her hands to his chest, feeling his powerful muscles as she bounced up and down until her toes curled and her legs shook. He swallowed a groan, surging forward to wrap his arm around her waist.

"I'm co—" he managed, wrapping an arm around her and pushing himself deeper into her, coating her insides just as she reached her climax, her fingernails digging into his arms while she shuddered in his lap.

She smiled as he kissed her chest and fell back to the bed with him, rolling off him enough for him to slip free before snuggling against him and laying her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're back," she said.

"Me too," he said, smiling down at her. He stroked the top of her head, carefully removing some sweaty strands of hair from her forehead. "I enjoyed that welcome."

"Good," she said, kissing his lips. "Spoon me?"

"Hm," he said, already falling asleep. It endeared her that the only place Sasuke seemed to get any sleep was in bed with her, as though it was the one place he trusted in the world. Abruptly, her thoughts were back in Itachi's apartment and what had transpired there, the goofy smile slipping from her face. She turned in his arm quickly, hoping he wouldn't see, then pressed her body against him, feeling the familiar weight of his arm settle over her waist.

But while Sasuke soon drifted off, Sakura couldn't sleep. All she saw when she closed her eyes was Itachi's impassioned face, his elated smile when he held her in his arms, and the way he looked at her when he told her he wasn't fascinated by Akari.