A/N: Izaranna, nah I do this and that but at crunch time I stick to the plot like glue.

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Chapter 77

Shikamaru yawns, pulling his chair away from the dining table so he can sit down. A bowl of rice already set in front of him.

Shikaku, sitting at the head of the table, has already started. His bowl halfway full and a piece of fish caught between his chopsticks on its his way to his gaping mouth.

Temari, who's seated facing the younger man, scrunches up her nose, seeming to smell something unpleasant.

Shikamaru shrugs his shoulders. He picks up his own chopsticks, savouring the moment before Yoshino comes in from the kitchen with another dish and demands why isn't he eating—quickly— her damn food. The way that old woman says it's her food will make people think he's begging to be fed or something. Tch it's not as if he's freeloading. He's working his ass off too.

He picks a small fish from the main dish. He doesn't know what kind it is but it sure smells delicious. He has already tried the mackerel and he likes it. This one looks too small and fried. Kankuro will probably be envious for tasting something so rare—

Yoshino suddenly barges into the dining area followed by a flowery scent; her voice booming so early in the morning, breaking Shikamaru's thoughts about his brothers in Suna.

"I found this in the trash can," the older woman in the room growls, carrying the small pot of lavender. "This is a plant! Not a garbage! It deserves to be—"

Yoshino's rant is cut off when Temari abruptly pushes her chair backward. The sound of wood grating on the wooden plank is much too loud and all eyes fall on the younger kunoichi.

Temari, with the back of her hand on her mouth, pointedly ignores her mother's glare, Shikaku's questioning glance and Shikamaru's frown as she gets up and hastily leaves the room.

Yoshino's glare becomes a worried frown. Putting the lavender pot on the table, she removes her apron and is about to follow Temari.

"Yoshino," Shikaku's tone is meant to stop his wife. "You go, Shikamaru."

Shikamaru glances at the older man then at the fried fish. Sighing loudly, he stands up.

Yoshino is still frowning. The plant with purple flowers loses its significance to her as she sits down before the table opposite Shikaku. "Did you see how pale she was?" she queries at her husband.

Shikaku nods his head while taking Yoshino's hand to stop her from standing up again. "She's fine," he utters reassuringly.

But his father's reassurance didn't work on Shikamaru. With his own brows knitting, he hurriedly leaves the dining room to follow Temari.

No, he didn't take the time to notice how pale she was. He just immediately assumed she hated to be questioned by Yoshino about the damn flowers and chose to leave the room than to lie.

Damn it all to hell! What if she got what he had yesterday? Ino said it's a very virulent form of influenza. It didn't take too long for that woman's healing jutsu to cure him but she did say that contracting the virus is dangerous for pregnant women.

He'll never forgive himself if Temari gets ill…and loses the baby.

Turning the knob into their bedroom, he hears Temari puking whatever she just had at the breakfast table onto the ceramic bowl. Rushing to her side, pushing the already ajar door of their bathroom, Shikamaru instinctively lifts his hand, massaging Temari's back as she sits on the floor slump over the white, clean bowl.

The sick woman straightens, pushing his hand off her back. "Go away!" she scowls, her pale face becoming more pinched.

Instead of heeding her words, Shikamaru squats down to Temari's level. Pulling a tissue from the dispenser, he wipes her wet lips, removing the drool that clung on the corner of her mouth. "Do you want water," he asks softly.

"Just go away." Temari avoids Shikamaru's scrutiny. She must look like a total mess. Sweat on her forehead making her hair look stringy and on her face—muck. The sight and the smellof vomitmust be downright revolting.

But Shikamaru doesn't seem to be disgusted by it all.

Standing up, with him still persistently trying to help her, Temari flushes the toilet. Reaching the lavatory, she washes her mouth and face with Shikamaru handing her a towel.

She doesn't want to admit it but she feels like she's cared for...like a wife. And with no Yoshino watching their every move, she's not gonna contradict whatever the hell she feels.

"Thank you," she mumbles grudgingly.

Shikamaru simply nods his head, silently grateful that the woman has not pushed his hands away again as he helps her to a bedroom chair. He would have carried her in his arms if he's sure that Temari won't be shouting and demanding to be put down.

She is still pale but appears a whole lot better than before as she sits down on the chair. Closing her eyes, Temari leans back on the backrest while her hands lay on her lap.

"You can leave," she mutters softly, addressing the man she can feel is hovering in front of her.

"But—"

"Shhh. Quiet."

Shikamaru reaches for one of Temari's hands, grasping it tightly on her lap. "A highly trained medic should come and examine you."

Temari opens her eyes. Shikamaru, with his knees bent, crouches in front of her. He tries to hide it but she can still see his anxiety. His face is too close as he peruses hers looking for signs that's she's not well. Too close that she can see herself reflected in the dark orbs of his eyes; his concern for her clearly written there in the dark twin pools. "There's no need. This happened before since we got back here in Konoha. I'll be fine. Let me just rest for a while," she mumbles, a very slight smile tugging her lips as she closes her eyes. She still feels weak; an after effect of experiencing having her stomach forcibly evacuating its non-existent contents.

Shikamaru debates with himself for a while; still holding Temari's cold, clammy hand then wiping the extra moisture by rubbing her hand between his before returning the appendage back to her lap. Taking the other one he does the same slowly, watching her breathe as her head is propped once again on the backrest.

She admitted that this has happened before. He has not seen nor heard her vomit violently before. He doesn't even suspect that such a simple but horrendous thing is happening leaving her almost frail and defenceless.

She always woke up earlier than him but she's always there at the breakfast table. What happens in between that time…How much she suffers he's just starting to know.

The image he has seen today is so different from the image Temari projected in a battlefield.

But then it's her body that is changing, betraying her. She can't fight it the same way she can fight an enemy nin.

Shikamaru tightens his grip on her hand. "Let me take care of you," he whispers softly; maybe too softly that the woman resting her eyes has not heard him.

Or maybe she has heard him as the pinched look on her face eases.

TBC

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