hey! fast updates these days... wooo! haha - sorry the next chapters gonna take a bit longer!

thank you for your support.. although i'm pretty sad more people aren't reviewing. it's much easier to update fast when there's comments i can draw inspo from.

To those pure hearted and super awesome dedicated followers who are reviewing - i love you so, so much! and i am reading and trying to give you guys some of what you're asking for, so thanks for noticing that! i like to try and make the people happy..

so there are some pretty interesting developments this chapter if i say so myself... basically, Sakura's about to enter the 'bargaining' stage of grief. while dealing with some pretty major feelings of loneliness. if you've ever loved and lost a partner, it's... you do selfish things to fill the hole left behind, in a different way than losing someone like your grandmother or a friend.

so, grief is a funny thing. i've been through it before, but everyone has different experiences. Sakura's grief is three-fold:

- in SFP she was just accepting the loss of her home/time and everyone else. but then Itachi died.

- now, Sakura is dealing with not only losing Itachi as a friend and lover, but also as the link she had to home.

- also, because that link is gone, she's still hurting from losing her time/home. but people like Matsuri are helping her with that.

ah. my heart hurts from this chapter. mm, but the consolation is that Mito's made another appearance?

btw, if there is any confusion on the timeline of the story so far (and after this chapter) i can make a note of it in the next update? if you want. let me know!

Chapter 7: Apprehension

Madara was watching the door of Matsuri's house. Leaning against a tree, feigning indifference and boredom, when instead his body was tingling with nerves and anticipation. Matsuri came out first, giving him a knowing look. Then he saw her. Dusk was a good time of the day for Sakura. The soft glow of the setting sun cast soft orange, red, pink across the sky, the golden glow of the light suited her colouring. She was looking down, smoothing out her dress as she stepped over the threshold. Her soft pink hair hung off one shoulder, pulled back on one side. His eyes drifted down the slender curve of her exposed neck, across the shoulders that were once far too bony and were now much healthier. He barely had a chance to look at her dress, which he could see clung to her in all the right places before she lifted her head and his eyes automatically moved to hers.

Green. Vibrant green. With something in them he hadn't seen for a while: life, enjoyment.

He looked away, attempting to hide the heat in his cheeks, to calm the rapid pulse that started at the sight of her. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't speak to her.

Matsuri spoke, but he didn't respond to her with more than grunts and murmurs. If he opened his mouth to speak, he was afraid of what would come out. But he listened, and he felt. Surely, surely he couldn't be the only one that felt the tension between them. He kept his mind occupied with thoughts of anything other than Sakura. Or he tried, but the moment they arrived at the party and he departed from Matsuri and Sakura to join Hashirama, he could finally look at her. For the rest of the evening, all he could see was the cherry blossom pink of her hair and the deep pink, so dark it was almost red, of her dress. The blush in her cheeks, the smile that seemed so like what it was a year ago. The shape of her figure in that dress and the sound of her laughter across the room.

Also, the way the other men looked at her. Appreciative. Leering. Hashirama was a fool, but he wasn't stupid. He made sure that Madara was kept in the conversation so his distraction wouldn't be too suspicious. He was an annoyingly good friend. Madara didn't drink much that night. If he did, he wasn't sure he could keep a hold on his actions and expressions, and he wasn't planning on ever showing a disgraceful side to the other clan heads, and he didn't want to cause her any problems. But he couldn't stop the glower when Shikaru Nara spoke to her so familiarly, and he fought down the urge to confront the man when the Nara turned to him and gave him a small, knowing smirk. He contented himself with scolding Hashirama in an effort to forget that the Nara was the most observant person he'd ever met.

When Sakura and Matsuri left, Shikaru took the chance to walk over to him.

"Having a nice evening, Madara?" He asked.

"It's lively," Madara murmured in response, suspicious of the man's motives.

He laughed.

"It certainly is," he replied. "I'm quite pleased that Lady Sakura is here, she always makes things more interesting."

"Indeed," Madara said.

"She's become quite a favourite of my son."

Shikaru kept talking, and Madara wished that he had been drinking so he could be as oblivious as Hashirama.

"She's a fascinating person."

"Really."

Madara's responses were from societal courtesy, and Shikaru knew that. His lack of interest seemed to amuse Shikaru. Madara caught sight of Tobirama watching their interaction.

"When she comes out the other side of her grief, I would expect that she'll find herself the object of many young men's gaze," Shikaru said, sounding like he was observing the weather.

Madara didn't respond. Of course, she would. She already was. The only thing stopping the men of Konoha was intimidation and uncertainty. Once the first person took the initiative, the rest would follow. His hand tightened slightly on the cup of water he held. He desperately wanted it to turn into sake. He took a drink. Shikaru gave him a smile and turned to leave. Before he did, he paused, put on hand on Madara's arm and leaned in closer, speaking in a low voice.

"Take some advice from an old man."

Their eyes met at the corners.

"Don't let her go. You'll regret it for your whole life."

Madara stiffened and Shikaru patted his arm and walked away, rejoining the conversation between the Yamanaka and Sarutobi, as if nothing had happened. Tobirama, who'd been standing beside Madara gave an exasperated sigh.

"You better not let this affect your working relationship," he muttered.

Madara turned from the Nara to Tobirama.

"Don't patronise me," he said.

Tobirama gave him a sharp look.

"The day your will breaks, you won't have anyone to blame but yourself. You're not as patient as you'd like to believe."

"You know nothing," Madara muttered.

"You're not as a good an actor either," he said, turning back to reign in his brother.

Madara clenched his jaw, completely irritated and about to snap, but his head snapped up the moment he heard the door slide open. She had returned. He narrowed his eyes at what he saw. Sakura looked tired. Matsuri looked pale, her hand covered her stomach. He felt a deep concern for her. She was pregnant again, but she was keeping it quiet for a while longer, she didn't want to worry anyone like she had while she was pregnant with Kagami. He was the only one she'd told, apart from Sakura. Madara felt a little relief from his worry now that Sakura was looking out for Matsuri. Hopefully, it would be easier for her now.

Matsuri and Yuri left a little while after talking with Sakura at the door. Madara couldn't look away from her. When she spoke about anything medical related, her face took on a different look. Focus, determined, completely confident in what she was thinking and saying. She was in charge. It was infuriatingly attractive. But he caught Shikaru Nara looking at him from the corner of his eye and saw the man smirking. Madara grit his teeth, the nosey old man was maddening. Hashirama saw Sakura and had another excited outburst. Madara watched as Sakura was startled by him so much that she stumbled as he tried to pull her inside the room again. She wasn't going to recover. Madara moved without thinking. He caught her around her waist - so slim - and righted her.

He didn't look at her.

"Hashirama, stop being an idiot," he snapped.

He was at his limit. But he realised that he was standing by her side, he could feel her warmth. He still had a hand on her back. He felt the soft fabric of her dress. The tense muscles of her back. He wanted to move, but he wanted to stay more. To touch her more. Then she stepped away and was gone, and Madara felt cold and ridiculous. His hand opened and closed at his side. She left, and his eyes followed her out the door.

But he couldn't get out of his head the blush on her cheeks and the aversion of her eyes.

He took his first drink of the night out of Hashirama's hands, making certain that he remained a silent drunk under the supervision of Tobirama. Sake was a bad idea, and being close to Sakura was dangerous.

Sakura and Kakashi lay on their backs in the training ground. Kakashi was reading his book, while Sakura stared up at the clouds, her lips pouted in thought.

"What am I doing here?" Kakashi wondered idly.

Sakura shrugged.

"I don't know. You just showed up."

"You just miss me and my wit," Kakashi said, turning a page.

Sakura snorted.

"Yes. I'm sure that's it."

Kakashi hummed in thought.

"You're not my cute little student anymore. You're all grown up, I'm so lonely."

"You have your books to keep you company."

"True. But what about you? What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hmm. Well. You work, and you work, and you train, and then you work some more."

Sakura frowned.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Probably," Kakashi replied.

Sakura sighed.

"You're not that helpful, you know, even when you try."

"Well this is your dream," he pointed out. "It's not like I have any control here."

Sakura sat up and pulled up some of the grass.

"I don't know what I would even do," she said. "What else do I have besides work and training?"

"Friends?" Kakashi asked. "Do you have them? I seem to recall you used to have quite a few."

Sakura thought of Matsuri.

"Yes, I have some."

"You should try and make more. Friends are good to have." Kakashi stood up and stretched. "Well, this has been lovely, but now I've got to go."

"Where?" Sakura asked.

Kakashi gave her a two finger salute.

"Secret," he said, before disappearing in a pop of smoke.

Sakura grimaced.

"Friends," she murmured.

She pulled some grass. Probably she should listen to her old sensei, even if he was a figment of her imagination.

Sakura discovered that the wife of Inorou was the woman who worked in the flower shop. She found it funny that his wife was the one apologising for his pigheaded behaviour, but she graciously accepted her apology on his behalf. Reina Yamanaka was a kind woman, who was perceptive in the ways that the Yamanaka were. She had already prepared the same bouquets ready for Sakura to collect.

Sakura found herself at the two graves. Her flowers from the time before were withering. She laid the new ones over the top. She lingered at Izuna's grave.

"I heard you fell in love with a Senju girl," she said quietly. "I was really scared about you sometimes, that maybe even if we saved Madara the Uchiha might still suffer from others that couldn't put aside hatred." She felt an overwhelming sadness. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I'm sorry that you died just before you could really live."

Sakura stood before Itachi's name. She felt her back burning with the memory of Madara's hand and felt overcome with a sense of guilt. She closed her eyes, her face contorting in pain, and crouched down, hugging her knees.

"It hurts so much to love you, Itachi," she whimpered. "You're not even here to comfort me. I have to rely on dream-Kakashi's advice." She sniffed and laughed. "It's so silly."

She stood and wiped her eyes and nose. She peered down at his name again. She didn't know what else to say. The words just wouldn't come out. Instead, she looked over at Izuna's grave and then decided to go to Matsuri's.

Matsuri was happy but not expecting Sakura to arrive. It had been a week since the party, and she was still having some pain, but Sakura's treatment had helped ease her discomfort.

"I have something I want to ask," Sakura said, sitting on the couch. "It might be a little weird."

"Wait." Matsuri said, standing up. "There's something I have for you. I was a little - well. I didn't know when to give it to you, you know, before."

She disappeared and came back with a rectangular package, something wrapped in a cloth.

"Just wait until you're home and you're alone, okay?" She said.

Sakura frowned with some confusion and then shrugged.

"So what did you want to ask me?"

Sakura sighed.

"Well. Did you know the girl that Izuna was seeing?"

Matsuri looked at her in surprise.

"Why?"

Sakura looked away.

"I thought maybe, I don't know, maybe I'd like to meet her."

"Well, I only met her at the funeral," she said with sadness. "I've seen her a few times. Her name is Asami. She works at a little store that sells pies in the market. She's a sweet girl."

Sakura pursed her lips in thought.

"Okay. Thanks. I'll give you a check-up while I'm here."

Sakura left not long after. Matsuri was in good health if a little tired, and Kagami was growing up strong. She headed back to the hospital. Hikari stopped her in the hall with scarily wide eyes and a red face.

"Hikari? What's wrong?"

"Lady Sakura. You have a visitor," Hikari said, breathless and excited.

Sakura looked at her expectantly, but Hikari just stared.

"Hikari?" She tapped her on the head lightly with a chop. "Who is it?"

"I'm sorry," Hikari squeaked. "It's Lady Mito Uzumaki!"

Sakura froze. She was not ready for that meeting.

"Did you offer her tea?" Sakura asked, clearing her throat.

Hikari nodded.

"Yes. Madoka is waiting for you though."

"Oh, right. Can you tell him I can't make it, and to give me a report on each of the medics progress?" She asked. "Help him with the report. And you too, I want to start you on the next level of training next week."

Hikari nodded.

"Yes, Lady Sakura."

Hikari ran off, leaving Sakura in the corridor. She took a breath in, breath out, and then walked to her office.

Mito Uzumaki was seated and facing her desk, sitting upright with great posture. Her hair was done in the way that Sakura had always seen in pictures, and like she'd seen when she first met her: two buns with paper tags, hair bright red and stunning.

She turned when she heard the door open.

"Lady Mito," Sakura greeted her. "I wasn't expecting you."

Mito stood, and greeted Sakura with a slight bow and a smile.

"I hope it's not an unpleasant surprise," she said.

"No, no," Sakura said.

She awkwardly closed the door and walked through the room to take her seat at her desk.

"I just probably would've cleaned up a little if I'd known," she said with a nervous laugh while shuffling around the papers.

Sakura's panicked mind was in confusion. Mito was the only person she started freaking out around. She was the first jinchuuriki, Lady Tsunade's grandmother, a great kunoichi in her own right. Not to mention she was really beautiful and composed and was sure to interrogate her about the seal they both had.

"It's quite all right," Mito said. "I understand you've been extremely busy. Hashirama talks all the time about your amazing ideas and progress in the hospital. He's eager to see the results of your hard work, although he's being as patient as he can, knowing it won't be easy to see for some time yet."

Sakura stopped fiddling with the papers and looked at her, calming herself down. She could see a lot of Lady Tsunade in Mito, the features that could turn from kind and open to stern in a moment. The strong set of her shoulders, the shape of their eyes.

"Your husband is a generous man with praise," Sakura answered.

Mito laughed lightly.

"Yes, but he's always honest." Mito seemed to hesitate. "Lady Sakura - "

Sakura held up her hand.

"Please. Just Sakura. I've never been much of a Lady before," she said.

Mito smiled.

"Well, then Sakura. I hope this doesn't come across as strange, but I'd like very much for us to be friends."

Sakura blinked in surprise.

"Really?"

Mito nodded.

"I'd like to get to know you better."

Sakura bit her lip.

"I don't mean to be rude, but is this just a roundabout way of asking me about how I learned this seal?

Mito didn't look surprised or angry by her statement.

"Of course I'm interested, dying to know in fact," she said. "However, I'm also being honest when I say I'd like to be your friend. You see, I've spent a lot of time hearing all about you, and from what Hashirama, Tobirama, and Madara have said, I think we could be quite good friends."

Sakura felt herself relax a little. Friends are good to have, according to her dream-sensei.

"I don't think I'm much fun, but if you're willing to put up with me, I'm willing to try," she said.

Mito smiled wider.

"Thank you." She seemed to hesitate again. "Sakura, I want to say that I'm very sorry for your loss. I only briefly met both yourself and Itachi before, but he seemed like a very good man, and from what I've heard, he loved you very much."

Sakura tried to give a little smile, but she looked away for a moment and then cleared her throat.

"Thank you," she said.

"I hope you can think of me as an ally," Mito said after an awkward moment of quiet.

"Ally?" Sakura asked with a frown.

"We're both high ranking women in the village," Mito said. "We should be able to help each other."

Sakura shook her head.

"I never even considered that," she said. "Thank you. Maybe you can teach me how to actually be a high-ranking lady," she said with an embarrassed laugh.

It was a foreign concept to her, and Sakura often wished she possessed some of Hinata's grace. Mito smiled.

"I hope we can meet again soon," she said. "In fact, would you like to come to dinner one evening?"

"Uh, yes, thank you."

Mito stood.

"I'll allow you to get back to work now, and when I organise a day, I'll let you know. Thank you for seeing me, Sakura."

"Any time, Lady Mito," Sakura replied, trying to make her smile not seem forced.

Mito left, walking away as graceful as anything. Hikari appeared at Sakura's door a moment later.

"She's so pretty," the girl whispered.

Sakura looked at her and laughed, before sinking back into her chair and rubbing her face tiredly in her hands.

"Yeah. She's pretty scary too," she mumbled.

Hikari stared at Sakura in confusion, and Sakura could only smile back without explaining.

When Sakura arrived home that night, she finally opened the package that Matsuri had given her. Sakura felt her heart clench at what she saw. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. It was Itachi. A drawing so like him that she almost thought that if she could reach into the portrait she'd pull him out. She hugged it to her chest for a moment.

The tears that fell were not filled with the same kind of desperate, endless, heartbroken sadness that she'd been feeling before. The sadness and feeling of a broken heart were still present, but so was something else. Something she was afraid might have been nostalgia.

Sakura was moving forwards, slowly, inching onwards into her life. But she wasn't ready to feel that yet. It felt to close to moving on, to letting go, and she couldn't bear the thought of doing that.

Hashirama picked up the scrolls in Tobirama's room and frowned as he read them. His brother had always pushed the boundaries of jutsu, his mind was constantly working to find out ways to make his jutsu better, to challenge what could and couldn't be done. His shadow clones were the perfect example of that. But this was something that made Hashirama's skin crawl.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Hashirama could feel his brother's chakra unleash in anger. His hair blew slightly at the sudden gust of wind from the energy of his brother.

"What is this?" Hashirama asked in a low voice.

"This is my space," Tobirama replied, ignoring his question. "In my home." He was furious. "What are you doing here?"

Hashirama turned to him and threw the scroll at him.

"Tobirama, what is this?"

He unleashed his own chakra. They faced off against one another. In the battle of wills, it was a rare time where Hashirama didn't come out the victor. Tobirama reeled his chakra in as a wall cracked from the pressure, and Hashirama did a moment later.

"Research," Tobirama replied, rolling the scroll. His eyes narrowed at Hashirama. "What are you doing here?" He asked again.

"You've been preoccupied."

Tobirama glowered.

"So you invade my private space?"

Hashirama leveled his brother with his own dark look.

"Your research may be done on your own time, but it is not above the scrutiny of your Hokage. What are you researching this for?"

Tobirama gave an irritated twist of his lips.

"How did we 'meet' Sakura and Itachi in their time?"

Hashirama was surprised by the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Neither of them explained it, but they did tell us they met us. Fought with and against us. How?"

"I don't know," Hashirama said slowly, understanding where his brother was going with his line of questioning.

His eyes flickered to the many scrolls scattered around the room, most of them taken from the Uzumaki. Understanding flooded Hashirama. He gave Tobirama a look of mingled horror, fascination, and disgust. Tobirama nodded.

"Exactly. Brother, it works."

"That doesn't mean it should be created," Hashirama said harshly. "It's unnatural. It's wrong."

"You don't understand," Tobirama scoffed.

"You play too much with things that should be left alone, Tobi," Hashirama said. "The dead should stay dead."

"What would you give to see Itama or Kawarama again?" Tobirama asked. "What would Madara give to see Izuna?"

Hashirama's eyes flashed dark and threatening.

"I would never wish to see them with a jutsu like this," he said. "Who would you sacrifice to bring them back?"

"Criminals, of course," Tobirama said flippantly.

Hashirama looked away. There were times when Tobirama's inquisitive mind took dark turns that he couldn't follow. He shook his head.

"I'm warning you, Tobirama. Give this up. Nothing good comes from playing with the dead."

Sakura stood before all the new and old medics and trainees on a small podium. They wore the new coats that she'd had commissioned, and looked more professional than they had a month ago. She wore a white coat of her own.

"A little over three months ago, I was in a coma and under your care. Now, I stand before you all to say something I should have said a month ago." She took a breath. "In our line of work, personal feelings have no place. We must be able to look at a situation objectively and clinically, making the best decisions for the treatment of our patients. I was remiss in allowing my personal circumstances to affect the way I treated you at times." She bowed. "I want to extend my apologies to you all."

She stood tall, seeing some surprise on the faces.

"As your leader, I need to be someone you can trust and look up to. My door is always open if you have questions, never be afraid to approach me. That being said, please remember that being a medic is a duty of the highest order. We hold the lives of our fellow shinobi and citizens of Konohagakure and the Land of Fire in our hands. I will not tolerate laziness or half-measures."

The medics nodded.

"Yes, Lady Sakura."

Their response echoed. She waited for it to die down before continuing, trying to imitate Tsunade as she spoke.

"In the last month, you have all shown great determination in improving your knowledge and skills, and dedicated yourself to training, even if you didn't agree with it. I will now assign you with ranks, and you can speak with my assistants, Hikari, and Shouta for your next assignments in the hospital."

Sakura rolled off names and rankings. She observed as Hikari and Shouta fumbled through assigning the newly ranked chunin and jonin medics with their positions in the hospital and assigned study requirements.

Shouta was an Uchiha who Matsuri had dragged into the hospital one afternoon. He'd suffered from full-body burns that were never properly healed and restricted his mobility. His face was spared, as was part of his chest and back. Sakura was shocked to learn that he'd been sent to the frontlines of the battles with the Senju when he was just ten. She was angry when she heard it. He was now seventeen, and something of an outcast in his clan. Sakura had done what she could to ease his suffering, and then with some persuading from Matsuri, taken on Shouta as an assistant. As it turned out, he had excellent chakra control. An Uchiha medic would be a huge asset, with Shouta's ability to use his Sharingan to help regulate his chakra and see some abnormalities, Sakura had high hopes for him…Once she managed to pull him out of his shell and instill some confidence in him.

Sakura spent the next part of her day trying to bridge the gap she'd made between the medics and herself. Most were receptive, others weren't, especially the ones who believed they should have been given a jonin instead of chunin ranking. By the time she'd sent Hikari and Shouta home and finished reading through the training progress reports, Sakura was exhausted. She pushed aside her papers and laid her head on her desk. A little nap before she went home would be fine.

It had been almost a month since the party, and Madara was amazed at the amount of time that could pass without him realising it. Each day he was being dragged into more and more meetings for different parts of the village. He spent most of his day inside his or Hashirama's office, often late into the night.

He hadn't seen Sakura in almost all that time. From what he heard from Tobirama, who trained with her in the mornings, to help her recover her strength and report her progress to Hashirama, she was as busy as they were. The hospital was slowly shaping into what she had promised. There were more reports of Sakura's improved attitude while working and teaching, and Tobirama also said that she was looking more like her old self every day. She seemed to be sleeping more at the very least, and the atmosphere around her was less depressing. Madara contented himself with second-hand information.

He stacked the files on his desk and let out a yawn. The sun had set, and Konoha was lit out his window by firelight. His eyes drifted over in the direction of the hospital, and somehow he found himself heading towards it when he left the office moments later. The hospital was a large wooden construct. It wasn't painted like the rest of the village, but it was better like that. Hospitals weren't supposed to look like anything other than what they were. Madara was about fifty feet from the front door when he decided against walking through it. He knew where he was going. He didn't want anyone else to see him.

The light of her office was on. From his perch on the tree outside, he could see her through the window. She was sleeping on her desk, her shoulders and back rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Despite himself, he smiled a little seeing her. Without thinking too hard about it, he picked bark from the tree and threw it at her window. The impact was light but he saw her breath freeze. Her senses were well honed. A few seconds later, she feigned waking naturally. He grinned and stepped out of the shadows of the tree and threw another larger piece of bark.

She turned in her chair and peered out the window. He didn't miss her hand curled into her sleeve. She was armed. When her eyes fell on his figure and she realised who he was, he saw her relax her defensive posture, but something else took its place. A different kind of defence.

She stood and opened her window. Her eyes were curious and tired. Her lips quirked in a confused smile.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

Madara didn't have a rational answer.

"Are you hungry?" He asked instead.

She thought for a moment, then nodded.

"If you're buying."

His heart jumped. He folded his arms over his chest and watched as she removed her coat, laid it on her chair and closed the light in her office. She came back to the window.

"Meet me at the front. I need to lock my office."

He waited for her just outside the well-lit area. He saw her wave good-bye to someone as she left. He saw her looking for him and he stepped out into the light a little more. She gave a little smile and met him. The tense and awkward silence that had been following them settled over them both again. But something else seemed different, and Madara realised that it was Sakura herself. The air around her seemed lighter somehow, even if she was still a little restrained.

"So where are we going?" Sakura asked.

Madara frowned and Sakura laughed.

"You don't know many places to eat out, do you?" She asked, teasingly. "It must be nice to have such a good cook in your house."

"Home-cooked meals are peaceful," he said, a little defensively.

"I never said they weren't." She even sounded lighter. "I was saying you're unsocial."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm talking now."

"Aside from me, which is rare, who else do you actually spend time with? Hashirama? Anyone else?"

"I see people when I need too," he said.

Sakura shook her head and let out a big sigh.

"What is it with you Uchiha?" She asked, not kindly. "You never seek out friends, but the ones you manage to make are the most loyal."

She looked at him and he saw a lot of memory in her eyes.

"Not many people can live like you."

Madara didn't reply right away. Sakura was one of the few people who he knew truly understood and were genuine in their care and affection for his clan.

"We need who we need, and that's all," he said after a moment.

Sakura stayed quiet, but the silence between them wasn't as awkward anymore. Madara wondered what she was thinking. When they reached the edge of the village center she stopped. He looked at her expectantly.

"Hikari told me there are a few places to eat just off the market, want to walk and see what we find?" Sakura asked.

He nodded. Walking with Sakura, eating with Sakura, being in her presence. It was all feeling very normal to him, despite the slight perspiration in his palms, and the little-too-fast beat of his heart. He was so intensely aware of her every move. Each time she tucked her hair behind her ears or adjusted her headband - newly decorated with the Konoha symbol, each nervous scratch of her forearm, and each adjustment of her qiapo. He was glad the night air was cool, any warmer and he'd be in danger of his sense getting clouded. They settled on a small and quiet restaurant. Both of them were immediately recognised, and Sakura managed most of the conversation with the owners, who were apparently Akimichi's.

They were seated across from each other, in a section that was a little more secluded and intimate than either of them were entirely comfortable with. The awkward tension settled between them again while they waited for their food to be served. She was careful not to make direct eye contact with him, looking at his nose, or forehead or a place behind him. He listened as she talked about the hospital, and answered when she asked how the other work was progressing.

A young waiter appeared, carrying a tray.

"Compliments of the house," he said in a quiet voice.

He placed the tray carrying honeyed wine.

"Oh, we couldn't possibly - " Sakura tried to protest.

He only smiled and poured them both a glass each.

"Forgive me, Lady Sakura, Lord Madara. I'm only following orders," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the woman who was presumably his mother.

Madara inclined his head in gratitude and Sakura let out a sigh and accepted it with a word of thanks. When they were alone again he picked up the glass.

"A toast?" Sakura asked with a small smile.

"To our fallen loved ones," he murmured.

She blinked and her smile turned sad.

"To lost loves."

They drank in somber silence.

"This is good wine," Sakura said, her lips still on her glass.

Madara put his down.

"I believe it's a Senju blend," he said. "Hashirama raves about it as much as he does sake."

Sakura took another gulp and then put her glass down.

"I can't sleep in my bed," she said suddenly.

Madara didn't know what to respond to that.

"The house is too quiet. Too empty."

She looked down at the table, and Madara understood.

"Sometimes I think…" she shook her head. "Sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this."

Madara held back the hand that wanted to reach out to her.

"There are still places I avoid going," he told her. "Places I can still see, hear and feel him."

She looked up, gazing at him with her bright green eyes, making contact for the first time.

"It gets easier," he murmured, though he knew the words meant little.

She bit her lip.

"They told me you used to talk to me," she said quietly, hesitantly.

Madara stilled.

"While I was in the hospital."

He didn't reply, but he looked away.

"Did it help?"

He looked back at her.

"Yes."

"What did you talk about?"

She was whispering, and he didn't know why. There was a fusion of fear and curiosity in her expression. He drank more of the wine, and so did she. He couldn't tell her everything he spoke about. But he could tell her some things.

"I was thinking out loud a lot of the time," he replied in a low voice. "Getting what I needed off my chest."

She drank the rest of her glass and refilled it. He watched her carefully. She had another mouthful.

"Did you hate me?" She asked.

Madara was dumbfounded at the question.

"Why would I hate you?"

"I survived," she said, looking down again. "We weren't good enough at our mission, and Izuna died." She looked away. "Sometimes I hate me. It wouldn't surprise me if you did."

Madara clenched his jaw.

"Hate you?" He repeated derisively. "I don't believe that would be possible for me."

Sakura turned slowly back to look at him.

"Surviving is not a crime," he said.

He looked at his hands and scrunched his eyes closed.

"I've read your scrolls about the future, about what I became and what I did. I can't hate you for doing your best. You saved my life."

"It's never enough, is it?" She replied. "No matter how many lives I save, they all disappear in the face of one, or two deaths."

This time, Madara didn't hold back his hand. He placed his hand over hers, startling Sakura and himself with the action. She stared at their hands.

"Sakura."

He said her name but he didn't know what else to say. He wanted her to stop thinking of things in the way she was. He knew the place it led to, and she didn't belong there. She looked up at him and didn't move her hand. He risked moving his thumb, gently, slowly over her knuckle and back. She flinched slightly, and he felt the heat rise in the tension between them. He could see she felt it too. He could see it in the blush of her cheeks. She withdrew her hand, and after second, so did he.

"I - I'm not - "

"I know," he said. "I'll walk you home."

Out the front of her little house, Sakura's hand rested on her gate. Her mind was screaming at her as she hesitated.

"Will you come in?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It was like another person was talking. Her cheeks were warm from the honeyed wine, her nose was cold from the coolness of the night air. Madara stared at her wordlessly and then nodded. Sakura fought her body for control, to stop the trembling of her fingers, to slow the hammering of her heart in her chest. She didn't know what she was doing. What she wanted. Why it was only with Madara that she became so flustered and confused and felt such pangs of emotion within herself.

She unlocked her door and disabled the seals and traps. She stepped inside and slipped off her shoes at the door. Madara walked in after her and did the same. She closed the door and heard it lock with a small latch. Why did she invite him into her house? She leaned on her door for a moment.

"Would you like some water?" She asked, clearing her throat slightly.

He nodded and wandered into the living room. She poured water into two cups. He was standing, not sitting. She passed him a cup but he didn't drink it. He looked at it in her hand.

"Sakura," he said her name in a low voice. "Why am I here?"

Her stomach coiled.

"I don't know," she whispered.

She didn't. She didn't know. She wanted… something. She just didn't know what it was, or why he was the only one that could give it. He took the cup from her hand and put them both down. Sakura didn't move. She couldn't. She just stood there as he stood straight and took a small step toward her. She felt him reach out and touch her face. His fingers lightly brushing her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered but she refused to close her eyes. He brought up his other hand and slipped her headband back from her head. It dropped with a soft thud behind her.

Madara's eyes followed his hands, and her eyes followed his. His touch was soft, light. She felt the small tremble in him. He ran his fingers through her hair. Her heart hammered with apprehension and fear, a small amount of desire that frightened her even more. He suddenly stepped back and ran his hands through his own hair. He seemed conflicted. He seemed about to say something, but she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head resting over his chest. He didn't speak. She felt like she was going to cry. Not from sadness, but from everything else.

"Please let me be selfish," she breathed. "Please."

She stepped back, but she couldn't look at his face. She couldn't see what expression he was making. She turned and walked away. He followed her into the bedroom. She looked down at the pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. Silently, they made the bed.

"Can you turn around," she said quietly.

He did. She removed her qiapo and undid her chest bindings. She changed into her sleepwear. A t-shirt and three-quarter pants. With hesitation, she slipped into the bed for the first time in two months. It was soft and cold. She curled into herself.

"Okay," she mumbled.

She turned on her side facing away from him. She heard his clothes move in the silence, and then there was a stillness before he laid next to her. Sakura turned over to see that he was already looking at her. She felt a flood of guilt and shame at what she was doing. She felt wrong, but she couldn't find a will to stop anything. Under the blanket, her hand reached out, and her fingers made contact with his bare chest. He shivered.

"Sakura," he said her name in a pained growl like he was tormented by it.

She withdrew her hand and clenched her fists. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her. His own hand came out of the blanket and caressed her cheek.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

She felt the tears overflow. They ran down and across her nose, dripping onto the pillow. She screwed her eyes shut and turned her face away as she cried. He shifted closer to her, pulling her against him. She gasped slightly as she came into contact with his bare toned chest and abdominals.

"Go to sleep, Sakura," he murmured.

In his arms, she sobbed quietly, as he held her tightly against him. She was calmed by the warmth of his body and the security of his arms, the familiarity of his scent. It was in the moments that she was falling asleep that she realised why she had invited him in, why he was the only one she felt she could give her the something she needed when she didn't know what it was. It was this, the intimacy of touch with another person that she trusted. Sakura was lonely. Lonely to the depth of her soul. Lonely enough to justify her actions without thinking of how they would affect someone else.

She had never felt so sick by her own selfish needs. She knew he was here because he loved her, and it hurt her that he did. She didn't deserve it. But what made it worse was that she knew that he understood that she was just using him to satisfy her own needs, that she didn't feel the same way he did.

When Sakura woke up in her bed in the morning, Madara was gone. She sat up and blinked, looking at the slept in sheets and bed, her stomach churning. She ran to the bathroom and threw up. Expelling the guilt and shame she felt in herself. It was the most peaceful sleep she'd had since the coma, and she'd never felt worse.