We stare at each other for a while, neither of us moving more than small adjustments for comfort, until he grins at me again.
"What was your childhood like, Haruno-san?" he asks me suddenly.
I open my mouth for only a moment, pondering how to answer his question without giving too much of myself away, and still giving him enough that he'll be satisfied.
"My mother was a very traditional woman. My father wasn't around much. I don't remember, because I was still very small, but I believe they separated because there was another woman, but it was my father who left my mother."
"You're speaking in past tense, Haruno-san. Does that mean you're parents aren't alive anymore?" He asks, irony twisting his face into a mockery of a smile.
I smile modestly. "I ran away from home when I was fourteen, Ibiki-san. I'm sure my file told you that very well."
"Then tell me something about you I don't know, Sakura."
The use of my real name was grating. I close my eyes, shifting my head in something that could only be described as a twitch.
"Does your familiar name bother you, Sakura?" he asks me, his hands sliding together in front of his face, leaning forward on his desk. His eyes were boring into me, trying to reveal all of my secrets.
Nothing gets past Ibiki.
I merely smile, and don't say anything.
He waits a moment.
"I see we aren't going to get any farther today, Haruno-san." I relax at the formal use of my name. "We'll meet two days from now, same time."
I leave his office, the only sounds the click of my heels and the soft sound of a door closing further in the building.
I meet Naruto on my way home, and he beguiles me into lunch at Ichiraku's. I still don't know how he does it, but I do enjoy ramen, even though I won't ever tell him this.
The high point of my day is not telling him about my therapy. The low point is when Kakashi and Sasuke arrive, and I freeze.
Sasuke still makes me a tinge uncomfortable. It's getting harder to ignore.
I was still a child when I loved him, and even now, when I think of Sasuke and Naruto…being together (because they totally are even if they won't admit it) I still think we're too young; they're too young to get involved in such a physical way. Their connection, their passion is all very physical.
My love for Sasuke wasn't.
But I guess that's my fault.
I now feel, when I'm around him, as if I move the wrong way he'll think I'm still in love with him. That isn't the case, but I feel as if one signal that was meant to be friendly will be taken to mean I haven't moved on.
And I have, but Kakashi…
Kakashi.
He's so brave, and smart, and kind. He truly cares about me, about all of us, and as much as I want to, I can't even try. Things about him that once sent me into a tizzy—his massive hands, his lean build, his lone smoldering eye—they now fill me with a coldness, and a knowledge that those things could be used to make me give away too much of myself.
I know that isn't normal. But I can handle this on my own, and I don't need Ibiki, or Tsunade's meddling help in any way.
I cover my discomfort by pretending to choke, and then actually choking, one stringy noodle bringing my level of social embarrassment skyrocketing through the roof, and my cheeks burn as Naruto pounds on my back. I cough and splutter for a moment, and as I regain my composure, Kakashi and I lock eyes.
There's a tense, awkward moment of silence. Naruto is quiet a moment as he takes in our exchange. Sasuke is the one who breaks the silence, surprisingly.
He clears his throat, "Naruto, let's go."
Naruto stopped eating his ramen. He dropped his chopsticks mid-slurp, wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, and left with Sasuke. I sigh.
Kakashi looked solidly at a point somewhere over my head, and said woodenly, "Goodnight, Sakura." He then disappeared into the shadows.
I had to pay Naruto's bill.
I couldn't sleep that night. Not that I normal sleep that much anyway, it's always the hospital that keeps me awake one way or another, whether dreams or actual emergencies.
It's taking over my life, some monstrous dominating force that I have no control over, that can't be contained or subdued or tamed.
Shizune, Tsunade and I are the only medics capable of healing large groups of people in time to save all their lives, and all other chakra-trained medics don't have the reserves to heal more than a shallow wound or to stop bleeding. We're also the only three so well involved with poisons and antidotes.
I find it funny that Shizune specializes in poisons, and I specialize in antidotes.
When I do sleep it's a mindless whirl of nightmares, and I wake feverish and panicked for the nth time in a row.
Maybe I do need some help.
Morning comes too early, irritatingly pleasant, cool, and sunny. It's going to be humid and hot as soon as the sun clears the horizon, so I dress comfortably and make myself breakfast, reveling in the solitude of my quiet apartment.
That quiet is broken by the small puff and explosion of smoke that occurs when an Anbu appears in my kitchen and requests my presence at the hospital for some emergency. I am cold and calm in my anger, but I do not show it.
It's barely seven in the morning. Already I have to start giving.
I give at the hospital: I give my time, my energy, my smiles, my touches, my chakra, my ambition.
What I wonder is, when will it ever give me something back? Sometimes I can't remember why I became a medic when all it is are faces, and names, and blood, and sometimes death.
Often death.
There are days when I can't get the blood out from under my fingernails, and times when I pass out during a surgery because even my now massive chakra reserves are depleted. There are other days when patients force me to spend time with them, to be reassuring and a rock when their life or a loved one's hangs in the balance. There are still more days, when nurses and medics and students and interns all ask me every minute of everyday things they should know, things that should've been taught, things that—
Some days I can't do this. But every day I have to.
I appear in a swirl of smoke in the emergency room, the hallway cluttered with gurneys and moaning Anbu and a flurry of white clad medics, not a wisp of hair showing through. I take it in for a moment, and read intently the report the Anbu handed me before he too disappeared from my apartment.
"Ambush, eh?" I mutter to myself.
"Yamanaka-san!" I holler, a blue-eyed blond cousin of Ino's appearing before me. "Take your medics and handle all flesh wounds and any minor breaks. If there's anything bad, get me or work together to stabilize until I can get there."
He nods and starts shouting names, hands already glowing green with chakra. I turn to the dark haired Hyuuga beside me.
Hinata had been very helpful in keeping my papers organized and even had majorly impressive stores of chakra, and was very talented in putting shattered bones back together, a time-consuming and painstaking process. She beat my time for a shattered femur, and like Yamanaka-san, had a group of nurses, interns, and residents under her supervision.
"Hinata, could you tell me if any of them are poisoned?" I ask her quietly, the chaos in the hall and surrounding rooms minimizing into the focused glow of healing chakra.
"Just a few, they're all in 302." She replies, summoning her own chakra to her hands as she heads for the nearest unattended.
I nod, mostly to myself, and head to the room. The first two beds are people I don't know, all a little older than me, and obviously more discreet if the Anbu armor is anything to go by, but then I see Genma in the third bed, and Kakashi in the last.
My world freezes, time slowing as my pulse starts to race. My chakra signature spikes, and I get to work.
There are things even I can ignore to save lives.