Tenten2020 Week.

The Boneyard
Cut from The Twelve Days of Christmas. Tenten

It was quiet in her father's room – quieter than she ever remembered it being.

She held his hand in hers, gently stroking the back of it with her thumb.

"It's November, Dad," she said in a subdued voice. "Remember when we came to Konoha? Those first couple of months were nice, weren't they? And remember how pretty the flowers were when you first moved to the Gardens? I still think that was a silly name for an assisted living facility," she chuckled, "but the grounds were pretty."

It had been so hard to let her father move from their apartment to the Gardens, but he needed to have access to more regular treatment and care. Tenten spent every hour she could with him, staying in his room, and sometimes staying the night. She'd help him get dressed in the morning, have breakfast with him, and then work at one of her jobs before coming back in the evening to have dinner with him.

By July, his disease became more aggressive. He blamed spending more time in bed on fatigue rather than the atrophying of muscles in his legs, and would only do his physical therapy sessions when she was not around.

He started going to bed earlier, and she'd sit and keep him company, sometimes doing nothing more than holding his hand for hours at a time.

She was had been with him the day his left hand stopped working.

"I have good news," he told her. "The tests results came back; I don't have the genetic form of the disease." He looked down at his hand. "This…this isn't something you will have to worry about."

She had raised his hand to her lips and kissed it fondly. "It's okay, dad. I'll be your hands."

And she had been even when he took a nasty turn at the end of September. She pretty much lived between the hospital and the diner during those weeks, refusing to leave his side for longer than she deemed to be necessary. Today the doctor very quietly told her what she already knew – her father was unlikely to wake from his coma.

"I just want you to know," she reached over and brushed the hair from his face, "that I'm okay. I put away enough to cover expenses for a while, and we both know you pre-paid your funeral two years ago. That was sneaky, by the way, even if it was clever," she muttered begrudgingly. "But I've still got Lee, and I've even made a couple of friends in Konoha. I still have my passport," she smiled as droplets of water flecked the back of her father's hand, "so I still have adventures in front of me. It…it's okay, Dad. I'm going to be okay. So," she took a deep shuddering breath, "that means it's okay to let go." She pressed a kiss to his forehead and another to his hand. "Thank you for being my father and my best friend," she whispered against his skin. "I love you so very, very much."

That night, at 11:56 PM, her father's life slipped away as gently as a tear gliding down her cheek – his hand still holding hers.

Tenten woke from a troubled sleep, blinking at the wan light sifting through her thin curtains. Her alarm wouldn't go off for another twenty minutes or so, but she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not today. She rolled onto her side to make sure her alarm was off before flopping onto her back again, exhausted.

The last two weeks were a blur; ever since her father slipped into that coma, she felt like she had been suspended in some strange, alternate state of being.

This gray November morning was, in stark contrast, far too real. She curled back on her side and ignored the tear slipping down her cheek.

There was a small knock on her bedroom door, but she didn't bother to turn back around. She heard the door open and close softly, and the even softer pad of feet across her floor. The old mattress creaked as it dipped under the weight of the visitor.

"Here," Lee offered gently.

She slowly turned to look at the proffered cup.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

"I don't know that I can legally call it coffee," he shrugged, "but that is what it is – with a hefty dose of cream and cinnamon."

She smiled wanly. "Just the way I like it."

She pushed her way to sitting cross-legged and he handed her the lidded mug. She took a long and grateful sip, allowing herself to just be.

Lee watched her without watching her, and silently sipped his own drink, which Tenten was sure would be a health shake of some sort.

She inhaled the warmth of her drink and opened her eyes.

There, hanging on her closet door, her formal black outfit waited.

Something about that punctured what little courage she had mustered, and she exhaled shakily. Immediately, there was a warm and steady arm draped across her shoulders. She leaned into the familiar and steady warmth of her best friend.

"I'm not ready, Lee," she rested the cup in her lap, wrapping her fingers around the tumbler. "I thought I could say goodbye," she tightened her grip on the cup. "But I just can't."

Lee deftly placed his own drink and hers on the bedside table. He cradled her to his chest, and handed her tissues. Her shoulders wracked with silent sobs, her sorrow too heavy to be given voice.

"I'm not going to tell you it's alright," he said, quietly. "Because it's not alright now. We've both been through this – we know it is never really 'alright,' but it does get better."

"Stronger than yesterday," she half smiled, her voice muffled.

"That's it," he agreed. "But today, you don't have to be strong. You just have to get through it, and know that you aren't alone."

"I'm glad I'm not alone," she hugged him tightly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Lee smiled into her hair.

"You'll never have to find out."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise."