The Fall

Visible clouds lazily expelled from her mouth as she exhaled exhaustion into the frigid morning air. An icy wind bit at her exposed cheeks as she sat alone on a wooden bench in a park near her apartment. Initial rays of light and muted purple and pink hues began to emerge over the horizon. Frost coated the dead grass around her in a white sheen. Despite the low light, oversized, black aviators rested over the bridge of her nose and concealed her eyes from public view. A cup of hot coffee rested next to her as delicate fingers unzipped her leather jacket, taking out a small silver flask. Impatiently unscrewing the top, she generously poured its contents into her morning beverage in an attempt to fight off an impending hangover.

In the distance she saw a flash of silver and heard the tinkling sound of dog tags. A young, bundled up boy whizzed through the park on a bright, red bike as a short cut for his paper route. The dead tree branches above her slightly swayed in the wind, groaning at the forced momentum. Bringing her coffee to her lips, she gently blew the liquid before taking a large, satisfying gulp. Whiskey and coffee burned through her. Every morning started the same: park, solitude, coffee (with whiskey, more often than not). It was how she grounded herself before she commuted to the precinct. It was how she retethered herself to reality – the reality that he died.

Today was five years.

Five years since Sasuke was murdered in an alleged mugging gone wrong. He was found bludgeoned beyond recognition a block away from her apartment in an alley behind the convenience store. They had spoken not even five minutes before he died according to cellphone records and the autopsy report. No witnesses. No suspects. Barely any evidence. A few wooden splinters embedded in his caved-in skull. His blood splatter that contrasted harshly against fresh, white snow. A ransacked wallet deprived of cash. Some unidentifiable boot prints that were contaminated when police secured the scene. The higher ups had described it as an unfortunate instance of 'wrong place, wrong time.'

'A senseless, random act of violence.'

It was all bullshit.

When she closed her eyes, she could still see his playful smirk, mesmerizing dark eyes, and silky raven hair that glistened with blue undertones in the sunlight. Sometimes she could still smell his citrusy and earthy scent that always calmed her. Sometimes she could still feel the warmth of his embrace and the gentle pressure of his fingers along her curves. Sometimes she could still hear the low, melodic tenor of his voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear or saying 'I love you' – his last words to her. When it became too unbearable, she fucked and drank recklessly to drown out the recollections… the sensations… the grief.

It was always too unbearable.

The hospital was where she first met Sasuke.

Mid-way through an extremely slow shift, she was killing time in the ER sipping a small cup of coffee. It was close to midnight. Glancing around the floor, nothing required her attention or expertise – a case of alcohol poisoning, a dislocated shoulder, and a sliced hand (the plastics attending on call was dealing with that). There was no life-threatening trauma. No one to cut open and save. So, she opted to catch up on updating patient charts and didn't bother to look up when the sliding doors chimed.

Meticulously writing her notes, her ears pricked up as fervent whispers and muffled giggles broke out. Determined to ignore the nonsensical chatter in favor of productivity, she continued scribbling away until a very loud, and unprofessional, squeal gushed from a receptionist. Narrowing her eyes, she snapped up her head to scold the girl when she caught sight of the distraction. He was… breathtaking, although nursing what looked like a nasty gash above his eyebrow with a bright orange hand towel.

She understood the initial shock of his appeal. How he caused such a commotion. However, she did not understand why the entire floor devolved into school children egging each other on to approach Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Patient care always came first. Sighing loudly, she dropped her pen and closed the chart she was working on, filing it away with one hand and discarding the empty paper coffee cup with her other hand. She swiftly stood up and made her way to the walk-in patient.

"By all means, let the poor man continue to bleed out," she scolded, startling the gaggle of enamored staff as she briskly approached the man. His dark eyes slightly widened at her sudden appearance and a small smirk emerged at her sarcasm.

She curtly addressed him, "Good evening, I'm Dr. Haruno and I'll be taking care of you. Please follow me."

"Hn," he acknowledged while trailing closely behind her. She didn't see how his gaze slowly dragged down her form.

Gesturing to an empty blue cot, "Please have a seat." He wordlessly complied.

Turning around, she grabbed hold of the yellow privacy curtain and heard a collective, disappointed groan from staff. Before closing it shut, she barked out to the floor, "Get back to doing something useful, before I find something for you to do!"

Frantic activity and a chorus of 'Yes Sakura-sensei!' exploded around them before being muffled by the drawn curtain.

"Sorry about that," she muttered while snapping on sterile latex gloves and grabbing alcoholic wipes and gauze.

He gave her an amused look, "Sorry for causing the commotion… Slow night?"

Turning back to face his exceptionally regal features, "Yes, but enough about that, Mister…?"

"Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha."

"Well, Mr. Uchiha—"

"Sasuke, please," he lowly interrupted. Fuck he had a nice voice.

"Right, well Sasuke," she started while gently nudging his hand away from his wound, "Can you please tell me what happened?"

His response devolved into a soft hiss as she began cleaning the laceration above his brow.

Giving him an apologetic smile, "This will sting a bit."

"A bit late for a warning?" He quirked his uninjured brow, staring deeply into her emerald eyes.

She broke off their intense eye contact. Dabbing the cut with a piece of gauze, "You seem tough enough."

"Are you an intern?"

Narrowing her eyes at the dig and the blatant disregard of her introduction just minutes ago, "I'm a trauma surgeon."

"You seem incredibly young to already be an attending."

Shrugging, "I was accepted into Konoha Medical University when I was 17."

"Ah, so you're a nerd."

Ah, so he was an asshole.

Huffing slightly as she whipped her eyes back to his with a glare, "A nerd who graduated top of her class with honors, was accepted into the number one residency program in the country, did her fellowship with the legendary Tsunade Senju, and was appointed as the youngest ever surgical attending."

Smirking at the way her face flushed prettily with irritation, "Hn, I misspoke… you're a mega nerd."

"Listen you little shit—"

"Is that a way to speak to a patient?"

"Would you like to file a complaint about my bedside manner?"

He gave her a small, genuine smile that took her breath away, "No, I find your lack of fawning refreshing"

She rolled her eyes, giving him an exasperated, small smile in return, "Well, you have two options Mr. Uchiha—"

"Sasuke."

"Right, Sasuke, you have two options. You're unfortunately going to need stitches to close the wound, however the face is a rather delicate area. You can wait an hour until the plastics attending is done with another patient. Or I can stitch you up now, but you'll most likely scar a tad as it's not my specialty."

"What do you recommend, Dr. Haruno?

"Well, it depends… The night is still young and if I stitched you up, I could make sure you get out of here as fast as possible. But if you wait for plastics, your wound will heal like it never happened."

Pausing a breath, she decided to mess with him, "Personally, I've always found scars to be hot. But in favor of self-preservation, your fangirls might maim me if I mangled your gorgeous face, so I'd recommend waiting for plastics."

A deep, soft chuckle erupted from him. She decided it was now one of her favorite sounds.

"I'll defer to your personal expertise and wait for the other attending."

Nodding, she snapped off her gloves and tossed them in a trash bin, "Works for me, I'm going to get you started on your admittance paperwork. I'll be right— wait, you never told me what happened."

"That's correct."

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

Pure frustration marred his features as he let out a groan, "An idiot. An idiot is what happened."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Deflecting in favor of getting to know her better, "Why trauma surgery?"

She gave him an incredulous look at his non-linear thought process.

Persisting, "Why specialize as a trauma surgeon? Surely with your prodigious talents you'd pursue something elite like neuro or sexy like cardiothoracics."

A pause.

"Adrenaline," she whispered, surprising them both with her candor.

He silently urged her to continue, "I think it's because of the adrenaline, the rush when brawling against death. When a G.S.W. comes through those doors, I'm fighting like hell for every single breath in order to stabilize a patient. It's controlled chaos, it's pure... fun."

Suddenly, a rowdy voice bellowed, "SASUKE UCHIHA? YOOOO WHERE YOU AT?"

"Dickless, you're going to get us kicked out."

Alarmed, she went to wretch open the privacy curtains to yell at whoever the hell was disrupting a place of healing at this hour when a hand shot out, grasping her wrist with a firm grip.

His hand.

"Don't. That's the idiot who accidentally did this."

His touch was electrifying, searing her skin with a welcomed heat. Then he pulled her closer, beseeching her in a hushed tone, "I'd rather not deal with him… or have you leave me quite yet."

"WHERE ARE YA SASUKE?"

"Sir, please calm down, you're disturbing the other patients..."

Her breath hitched at their proximity and his words. He was staring at her with sincere, but intense, eyes.

"Sir, I must insist you desist, otherwise we'll have to call—"

"THE COPS! We ARE the cops dattebayo! I'm looking for my bastard partner Sasuke Uchiha!"

"We're off duty dickless, Captain is going to kill—"

Suddenly the curtains around them were thrown open and Sasuke immediately released his hold.

Bright cerulean eyes flashed in triumph, "OI TEME, WE FINALLY FOUND YOU! SORRY ABOUT THE BOTTLE TO THE HEAD THING!"

Scowling, Sakura swiveled to the rambunctious blonde and took purposeful steps to invade his personal space. Poking him hard in the chest with her index finger, she gave him a threatening glare and hissed, "You. If you don't settle down immediately and stop terrorizing the patients and my staff, I'll ensure you have an extremely painful reason for being admitted to this hospital."

In her periphery, she saw a pale man with delicate features and jet-black hair give her an empty, polite smile.

A wide grin broke out on the blonde's face and she noted he had the warmest, friendliest disposition, "Oh I really like her, you should ask her out teme!"

Sakura started sputtering at the suggestion and his continued yelling.

An annoyed drawl emerged from behind her, "I was trying to, dobe."

Eyes widening, she turned back to him with a challenging smile, "Oh really? Even with being an adrenaline junkie and my horrible bedside manner?"

"Especially with your horrible bedside manner," a delectable smirk settled on his face, "What time does your shift end?"

Shaking her head in disbelief, "You're probably concussed... but I get off at 6:00."

"I AM SUCH AN AWESOME WINGMAN!"

The hospital was where she first heard that Sasuke died.

Their first date, while initially meant to be a quick cup of coffee, lasted 6 hours. Their first kiss was underneath a dim, humming streetlamp as he walked her home after a long surgery. The first time they made love left them both equally breathless, their worlds fundamentally shifted. Their year-long romance was a whirlwind. A courtship culminating in a proposal that overjoyed her and their friends. Her parents passed away early in a violent car crash that only spared her. He was mostly estranged from his family. But all they needed was each other. With Sasuke, she was home.

Then, he was gone.

Finishing up her 12-hour shift and eager to get home, she saw Naruto and Sai standing in the lobby waiting for her. Their backs were turned toward her, and she couldn't see their somber expressions. Cheerfully calling out to them, her broad smile began to fade as she saw Naruto's rare, serious expression. His normally bright blue eyes were muted. Defeated. Brimming with unshed tears. Even Sai seemed to have a slight pained look on his typically blank face. She doesn't even remember what Naruto specifically told her, but she does remember the sensation of falling in a deep, black pit of utter despair. Nothing, not even Naruto's reassuring words and comforting hold, could stop her from drowning.

She stood out at Sasuke's funeral.

Her petite form, wide jade eyes, and bubble-gum short hair starkly contrasted with the statuesque and noble dark-eyed, dark-haired clan. The family had oddly forgone police funeral customs and traditions in favor of a private affair. Only her and Naruto were tolerated, although barely, based on the judgmental mummers. The priest's words fell on deaf ears as her grief consumed her. A consistent ringing muted her world as she stared dully at the closed coffin. This had to be a sick fucking joke. As the procession began filing out, she saw long, black spiky hair in the distance. Immediately she recognized that it belonged to that man. Chief of Police at the Konoha Metropolitan Police Department. Sasuke's former boss. The renowned head of the Uchiha clan. Sasuke's uncle.

Madara Uchiha.

Subconsciously her body moved, ignoring Naruto's panicked warning, rushing and weaving through the crowd in desperation for that man's attention. Her attempts to call out his name were drowned out by the commotion around her. Finally catching up to him, she abruptly grabbed the arm of his expensive suit jacket. Her exquisite engagement ring shown brilliantly on her finger as her iron grip wrinkled the elegant fabric. Immediately his security detail surrounded them, guns drawn at her face. Peripherally she saw Sasuke's mother gasp in horror and heard Naruto's outraged protests in the distance.

She didn't even flinch.

He lazily waved them off, sighing lightly at their overreaction before pointedly asking her what she wanted. His commanding voice did make her flinch.

Not bothering to release him and with lucidity that had been absent since the news of Sasuke's death, "I want to join your department. I want to be a cop. A detective."

Several incredulous scoffs erupted around her, as if her declaration was ludicrous. Pure insanity from a grieving fiancée. But she didn't care, staring down at arguably the most powerful man in the city with an inextinguishable fire burning in her orbs. He looked at her expressionless. Slowly he grasped her arm in an unspoken command to let him go. She obeyed. His eyes were black and soulless, overwhelmingly intimidating. And dangerously calculating.

Giving her an almost imperceptible nod, "Come to my office tomorrow. Noon. We'll talk." Then he turned away, promptly ending their interaction. His entourage swiftly whisked him into a blacked out, armored SUV.

The next day, she cowardly submitted her verbal resignation to Tsunade in front of the hospital and numbly took the buxom blonde's explosive fury and scathing expressions of disappointment. The grounds and building itself seemed to tremble at her mentor's anger. All activity, with the exception of life-saving activity, had stopped to watch this figurative car crash. It was quite the spectacle.

Over a decade of education, investment, dedication, and sacrifice thrown down the drain. A promising, potentially Nobel prize winning medical career in exchange for a self-destructive job chasing after criminals and ghosts. She would be trained to kill instead of to heal. She would be put in circumstances that would make her violate the Hippocratic Oath. All valid points, but she didn't care. Not anymore. Before walking away, she gave Tsunade a deep bow, sincerely thanking her for years of mentorship. Tsunade slammed her hand against the brick wall, yelling after her out of frustration and heartbreak. Sakura never looked back.

Standing alone in front of Madara Uchiha in the privacy of his office was a surreal experience. Always an overachiever, she had submitted her application to the Police Academy first thing in the morning, prior to giving Tsunade her notice. She brought a printed copy, just in case, for his records. In a meticulously pressed, highly decorated uniform, he exuded a well-earned air of superiority that easily dismissed inconsequential people.

However, Sakura had never been inconsequential.

She was always extraordinary.

Bluntly, he told her if she wanted to pursue this, everything had to be accomplished through merit and she'd have to pass multiple psych exams. No favoritism would be extended. No exceptions made if she washed out. There were no promises she'd make it past being a beat cop let alone be promoted to detective. The hours were long, the work often grueling, and the pay, especially relative to the income she was commanding at the hospital, was utter shit. She would face distrust due to her unconventional background, be constantly underestimated and undermined due to flagrant sexism, and ultimately may be crushed by the weight of bureaucratic protocol. And none of this would bring Sasuke back or guarantee him justice.

Unfazed by the challenge, she didn't hesitate with her reply, "Sir, I only need one legitimate shot. I will be a detective in five years."

Madara smirked at her confidence. She flinched at his close resemblance to Sasuke in that moment.

Just shy of five years, Sakura was promoted to detective.

Sakura never stepped foot in a hospital again.

When she dislocated her shoulder jumping down two stories in pursuit, she merely gritted her teeth and popped the sucker back in place before tackling the shit out of the fleeing suspect. When a tweaked-out junkie pulled a knife on her and got a decent slice across her thigh, she knocked the fucker out before cleaning and suturing her wound in the patrol car. Her partner at the time watched in morbid fascination. When a gangbanger with a sawed-off shotgun got a lucky shot straight to her Kevlar-protected chest, she popped Ibuprofen like candy to deal with a fractured rib and laid off the alcohol. It was the longest she went sober since Sasuke died.

Word spread. Sometimes a colleague would meet her in a dark corner of the precinct to get patched up. Insurance premiums were high. Hospital visits were expensive. Plus, it was discrete – hysterical and overreactive girlfriends, partners, and wives would be none the wiser. However, word spread a little too far. One irate, threatening phone call from Chief of Surgery Senju to Chief of Police Uchiha promptly shut down her charitable contributions to the department. So, she went back to only enabling her own self-detrimental aversion to the hospital.

Sighing, she rose to stand. It was a quiet morning, but it was going to be a shit day. People were going to walk on eggs shells around her or actively avoid crossing paths. Her partner would be especially attentive, in his own understated way. Naruto would be nearly insufferable with his mothering and Sai might even compliment her. And like every year, she would find herself locked in a room, pouring over Sasuke's cold case files, agonizing over what was missing. It continued to be the only case she was unable to solve. Setting a brisk pace toward the station, her long pink hair billowed behind her as she intermittently sipped her coffee.

She should have added more fucking whiskey.

A/N: This is going to be a dark, complex, angsty wild ride. This is a Sakura/Kakashi story. Thank you so much in advance for reading and I sincerely hope you enjoy.

Please (!) take the time to review if you do enjoy this story. Your reviews truly give me life, are highly appreciated, and are exceptionally motivating as I re-read them (repeatedly) when I experience writer's block.