Set in my Tattoo parlor AU; Ino and Sasuke are roommates, and Hinata is the Henna artist at the Dragon and Phoenix tattoo parlor, owned jointly by her cousin Neji, and his more-than-girlfriend Tenten.

The Golden Ratio
Part IV: Scars

"I had a tattoo."

It is something admitted in the lull of a quiet evening at the flower shop. Hinata's wares had become so popular that Ino turned over one of the workrooms to her. It's not the first time he's found himself sitting at the rough-hewn table while she worked; her nimble fingers always in motion, her apron stained, and the stray wisps of hair fluttering from her utilitarian bun in the hint of a halo.

She looked up from cutting the last of the new soaps with surprise mild in her features.

"Had?"

He nodded once.

"Hm," she hummed, carefully putting the cut soaps in a wire bin. She briefly met his eyes, letting him know she was listening as she climbed the small step ladder. Neither spoke as she methodically sorted the cured soap from the wire bins on the topmost shelf to the labeled ones below. Still in silence, Sasuke brought her the batch of new soaps that she began to separate and transfer into the newly emptied baskets.

"It was a mistake."

His admission gave her pause, but it isn't until he added - "Everything about it was a mistake," - that she turned to meet his eyes. Her vantage point on the step stool put her head only a little above his, and he was certain her gentle gaze could see directly through him.

"Everything?"

The hint of a smile was rueful.

"Everything. From the situation I was in that led me to getting it, to where I was, who I was with, and who I was when I got it. Just," he shrugged, "everything."

"It was a while ago?"

"A good while," he agreed, but didn't offer specifics. "I kept it for far longer than I wanted it - a reminder not to repeat past mistakes."

She shifted the basket against her hip.

"What made you decide to get it removed?"

"I wanted to be done with that part of my life."

"Did it hurt?"

"It wasn't pleasant."

"Laser or surgery?"

"Surgery," his words rang cold with grim finality. "Better a scar than ghosting."

She held his gaze, and for the smallest of moments, he wondered if she could see the burning in his skin - the remnants of a life he didn't deserve to forget.

"Guess that is something they don't always tell you about new beginnings," she turned back to her basket, and finished transferring the soaps. "Sometimes you have to leave a part of yourself behind to make them work."

He instantly wondered what - or whom - she had left behind.

A small frown etched between his brows as he waited for her to continue her line of thought, but it was soon clear that she would not elaborate on the subject. He contented himself with studying her gentle profile – the serene grace of her being never failed to soothe something in his. Her hands fascinated him; small but with graceful, long tapered fingers, with nails kept rather short, but beautifully shaped. Sometimes there were stains from henna – sometimes not. Sometimes her nails were painted – sometimes not. Today was a "not" day on both counts.

He traded her several more full baskets for empty, the silence between them - as all of Hinata's silences were - filled with something reassuring and kind.

He set aside the last basket, listening as she stepped down from the step stool. When he turned, he was surprised to find she was perched on the rickety Ino-was-crazy-for-keeping-it wooden ladder, standing on tiptoe while she perused items on the top shelf of the highest storage unit.

He hurried to the base of it, holding it steady, his heart in his throat as she remained unfazed.

"I don't know why you two won't get rid of this death trap," he glared at the wood, faded and splattered with paint from projects past.

"It's useful," she shrugged, frowning at something in her hand, and returning it to the shelf while she stepped up to the "do not step on this step" step of the ladder.

"Hinata," he warned, feeling a thin sheen of sweat bead on his brow with each relevé, gripping the ladder harder as it rocked forward.

"Sorry!" her muffled apology came from inside the cupboard as Sasuke glared up at her, and then looked away with a flush, even though she had thick tights on under her skirt. "Found it!" she said happily, putting several items into the pockets of her work apron and then tucking a box under her arm as she nimbly made her way down the ladder.

Sasuke stepped to the side, but refused to let go of the ladder until both of her feet were solidly on the floor.

"What in the world were you -?"

The buzzer from the front of the shop rang, and Sasuke shot a glare to the clock - he knew he shouldn't have let the clerk go early.

"I'm taking this with me," he closed the ladder and picked it up. "Stay on the ground until I get back."

"Sure," she smiled, and he grunted as he hauled the ladder out of the work area to just inside the doorway of the show room where he could see it from his place behind the counter. The customer was a last-minute-desperate-for-any-help sort of customer, and one look at Sasuke sent him scurrying the refrigerator to select one of the most expensive pre-made arrangements available. He carried it to the register like an offering before a temperamental god, practically running from his piercing stare the moment his change was in his hand. Sasuke muttered something about cowards before flipping the sign to "closed" and locking the door behind him.

Not trusting his quiet companion, he went back to make sure she was not risking life and limb for lip balm.

He was pleased (and slightly suspicious) to find her cleaning things up.

"I thought you had more work to do?"

"I finished with the soaps," she shrugged. "Those were the main things I wanted to get done tonight. I think I'd rather have a nice cup of tea. Care to join me?"

Sasuke considered her, wondering what prompted the idea, but couldn't deny that he would very much like a cup of tea.

"I can join you," he shoved his hands in pockets. "Assuming you stay off of any death traps."

Her laugh was light, and her conversation minimal as she finished putting things away. They had an agreement that he would drive her home on the nights where she worked later at the shop - and she would refrain from even suggesting that she could walk or otherwise travel through the connecting neighborhoods under her own power after dark.

It was perhaps the sole notion agreed upon by Sasuke and Neji.

When she finally recognized his concern for her, she had begun to accept the rides without much of a fuss. They had discovered that they both liked a well-made cup of tea, and Sasuke would be the first to admit that Hinata made an excellent cup of tea.

She was pouring his second cup when she ventured,"Your tattoo..." She flicked a glance at him, and he arched an eyebrow. "You said it left a scar...?"

He nodded, watching her through the steam drifting above his cup.

"May… may I see?"

He gave a sort of artless shrug – his way of indicating he didn't care if she did or not – when he really and truly DID care.

But… he didn't necessarily mind.

Not with Hinata.

She put the teapot down and dried her hands before returning to stand next to him. He hooked two fingers in the collar of his shirt and pulled it to the side. "Just there," he tapped the scar twice.

She reached for him, but hesitated.

"May I?"

Not trusting words, Sasuke nodded, folding his hands on the table.

With a gentleness and delicacy that made him positively insane, she carefully moved the collar of his T-shirt to the side.

Her fingers were cool on that spot between the base of his neck and the top of his shoulder- a spot that had been so despised for so long. Never had it been touched so gently – not by those who gave him the mark, not by those who removed it – not the rough hands and sharp needle, not the clinical inspection and barely concealed judgement – whisper light fingertips cool on his heated skin and sending electricity to tingle up his scalp and shoot across his back

She trailed over the mark carefully, tracing in tenderness what had been forged in anger.

"Does it hurt you?"

"No," his voice was low as he half looked over his shoulder.

"It looks like it healed well," she gently prodded the scar, determining its rigidity and thickness.

"You seem to know a lot about scars."

"I make some remedies for them," she admitted. "I have some, if you'd like to try."

He turned in his seat and met her eyes. "Is that what you were climbing the ladder for?"

She bit her lip and nodded, the turn of her lips bordering on impish.

"Go on, then," he gave what was an attempt at an exasperated sigh. "Hate to have you risk your life for nothing."

She smiled, and retrieved a box from her large bag, placing it on the table. "It isn't anything elaborate," she explained, noticing the suspicious glare directed between her and the box. "Just salves and lotions to fade the marks, and help the skin around it to mend and stay supple and strong."

She selected a tin and opened it, rubbing her fingers across the balm before gingerly moving his shirt and applying the salve. He couldn't place the smell other than it was heavenly, and perhaps cocoa butter based. The meticulous care she showed to an area of his person that he normally pretended did not exist baffled him.

"You know it will never go away," he murmured. "Scars fade and heal - maybe soften, maybe toughen - but they are still there."

"Yes," she agreed, pressing the warmth of her palm to his scar. "They are still there. But they heal, just like everything else. It just takes time."

As she stood with her hand warm over his carved mistakes and acceptance in her eyes, Sasuke thought for the first time that he, too, might begin to heal and mend.

Perhaps there was a chance he could become that person he had only ever seen reflected in her eyes - someone better than he'd ever dared to hope to be.

And in that moment, he realized that where others had marred and altered his body with ink and blade, she was slowly slipping between the helices of his DNA and winding her kindness and support into his very person. And when he looked up and met her eyes, her pale, pink lips parted and ready to speak comfort and forgiveness, and kindness, he knew that he needed her more than the oxygen he was struggling to remember to drag into his lungs.

And when his name slipped from those lips, wrapped in all the goodness he did not have, he caught it with his own, tasting the possibilities of heaven.

And when she kissed him back, he knew there was no tattoo or scar that would ever mark him more indelibly.

With her name scrawled across his heart, and a glimpse of forever in his arms, Uchiha Sasuke closed his eyes and marveled at the starbursts behind them.

Thank you for reading, friends! - GL