..
They say it shall strengthen our security and pave the road for our future, came Tsunade's response. They tell me her presence here is a vital part of her duty to Leaf. But I feel their reasons for Sakura's immediate return do not weigh more heavily than yours for retaining her services.
The words were vague enough to be meaningless without context. Gaara took note here: he and Tsunade both knew what was going on, and that the threat to Sakura's well-being wasn't imagined or overblown . . . but Tsunade wouldn't put it on paper. There was shame in it, then, and secrecy.
Gaara scowled at the scroll for good measure and read on.
Also, let me know if she has need of anything. You know she's important to me. I would like my student to be comfortable.
Gaara's scowl deepened. This wasn't Tsunade asking if Sakura wanted a few more changes of clothes. The Hokage had all but spelled the question out: What will it take for her to come back?
She cared—and she wasn't the only person at Leaf who cared. And it'd be unfair of him to withhold this from Sakura, no matter that the offer may sway her decision.
Now it was his turn to want reassurance, someone to help him make the right choice.
He knew Sakura would be mid-shift at the hospital. Dragging her away from that would be silly and selfish. He stood outside of it anyway, watching the doors, watching the people coming and going.
If he misstepped too far in one direction here, Sakura might choose to return to the same situation that'd killed his mother—but if he misstepped too far in the other, people would die. His people would die. Sand had underestimated Leaf six years before and nearly been decimated. And while he would like to spar Naruto at some point, facing him under that circumstance wasn't remotely desirable.
He let himself into Temari's place. He went to the guest room without conscious intent; he sat on Sakura's bed and tried to think of a way to respond. He pulled her blanket up, wadded it into a ball, wrapped his arms around it, and hugged it to his stomach.
He found his wrap folded on her pillow; he wasn't sure if it reassured him or made him worry more.
Temari found him that way some time later, his back hunched and chin resting on his knuckles, his arms still folded over top of the blanket.
"I can't make the decision for her," he said.
"I don't think she'd want you to."
He watched a spot on the floor in front of him without seeing it. "I don't want her to make the wrong decision."
Temari came to his side; she stood, watching, until he looked up at her. "Right now she thinks she has two choices: go back to Leaf and get married, or go back to Leaf and not get married. Can you give her a choice that'll be better than either of those options?"
"I don't know if she'll want that choice either."
"You won't know unless you make the offer."
It was too soon to ask, he told her. They both knew the Leaf-nin was shaken but not seditious.
Temari sat down beside him. "You know, she told me she likes to spend time with you because she thinks you're calming to be around."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
She told him to think about it: he didn't judge Sakura for taking her time with her decision. He didn't push anything on her; instead he'd provided her with company and security. When everything Sakura thought she wanted fell to shambles, all three of the Sand siblings offered her support—but Gaara was undoubtedly the one she'd been leaning on the most.
"I haven't had experience in this sort of venture before," Gaara said, which was as close as he'd come to admitting he had no idea what he was doing.
"You know what to do," Temari replied. "It's the same move, just . . . on a different kind of battlefield. Shield and wait. When you see your opening, take it."
That was a plan he could wrap his mind around.
"They're starting to give her trouble, you know," Temari said. "Petty things. Wrong directions, made-up names for plants."
"Who?"
"You know."
And he did. Their faces had changed a few times over the past few years, but the natures of his would-be love interests hadn't changed at all. Gaara frowned. "She didn't tell me."
"She won't," Temari replied. "It's why she keeps working for Sand instead of just claiming sanctuary. She doesn't want to be dependent—and she doesn't want you to think less of her."
He scowled at the floor, knowing this wasn't something he could step into and defuse without insulting Sakura—or making things worse. He might care for and claim responsibility for Sand's shinobi, but that didn't mean they couldn't annoy him.
"Stop worrying. She'll work it out." Temari smiled humorlessly. "I know if I was in her position, I'd be happy to have an excuse to hit something." She stood, then turned back to him. "Also? Make her bed when you're done here. I'll cover for you this time, but if she finds out about this"—she gestured to the rumpled sheets, the wrinkled blanket in his arms—"she's not going to be happy."