AGAINST THE SKY

Well I lost my innocence when in I let him dive,
But the way that he looked at me
Made me feel alive.
And now I know,
Nothin' at all,
But the release that comes when you're
In mid fall.

~As It Seems; Lily Kershaw

They are at an impasse in their relationship, and Sakura is reminded of this every time their eyes meet. More than the desire to protect, there is something deeper in the way Kakashi looks at her now. Affection. She recognizes it in the way his eyes soften and gain a little more sparkle, in the way his faint crow's feet crease more and he doesn't look through her so much as directly at her. At the same time, she knows that he will never move of his own accord, although she imagines it is reasonably obvious that she reciprocates his feelings; in all her years of interacting with him and piecing together his past from medical records and personnel files, Sakura has never known the man to purposely do anything for the sake of happiness alone. As a professional, she understands – too many years of survivor's guilt, of PTSD, of if only I had tried a bit harder. As a woman, she wishes he could see how good she could be for him.

She can see how this can pan out for them – he will always be the one she runs to first with any kind of news, she will always be the one he chooses to spend idle time with, and they will always be the closest of friends. They will always toe the right side of the line, but there will always be an undercurrent of desire simmering between them. They will never act on it nor acknowledge it to each other. They will grow old together, perhaps die together on the battlefield. And yet, they will never know how it feels to fall asleep together at night or wake up tangled together in the morning, and at the end of their lives there will be regret.

Damn it all.

She wishes she could've seen Kakashi as a child. She wishes she could have been there when he sat beside the spreading blood of his father's cooling body and held him close. Told him that it wasn't his fault. Told him that he wasn't alone. That even after all this, he was still worthy of happiness and love and all the good things that life could bring.

They are at an impasse in their relationship, and it breaks her heart every time he so much as glances at her, because in his eyes, she sees love.

Their profession is not conducive to mental health. This is something Sakura knows well, and yet in the eight years she has been training and working as a medic-nin she has never seen anything that has made her question the ninja system like this. Five dark-haired little boys, barely able to throw a kunai, slaughtered. The jounin she had helped arrest – dark-haired, slight, so average – had been laughing when they caught him, tears mixing with the spatter of blood on his face. "It was me," he gleefully shouted, eyes wide and betraying his utter madness. "It was me!"

She reads his file carefully in the hours before his trial. Civilian parents, no siblings. He was five when his mother and father had been sliced open inches in front of him, both trying desperately to shield their son before they fell. The screaming had sent neighbors running within moments – the only reason why he had been left alive at all. They'd never found the killer, but the police didn't look very hard – his father had been a notorious gambler, and loansharks had been harassing them for weeks beforehand. All orphans in Konoha are automatically enrolled in the Academy – they have no other way of supporting themselves, after all.

Sakura has read about this particular type of psychopathy before – traumatic childhood event, compounded by probable genetic vulnerability and years of repressed guilt and self-hatred. The pictures of him as a child look eerily similar to each of the boys he killed.

The execution happens before she even finishes the last autopsy. Not quite what protocol would demand, but they had caught him in the act, and shinobi villages like to take care of these things quickly. Sakura knows the five pairs of little feet sticking up from under the sterile sheets will haunt her for months, maybe longer. It is nearly sunset when she leaves the hospital, and for once the beauty of the multicoloured sky fails to capture her attention. There is only one thing – person - she wants to see right now, and he isn't in the one place she can usually find him at. The journey home from the memorial stone is slow and plodding, to say the least. Sakura can't even find it in herself to give more than a wan smile to an energetic Team Ebisu as she passes them in the streets, dirty and exhilarated from a mission they just completed, no doubt.

Sakura has barely unbuckled her medkit and weapons pouch from her waist when there is a knock at the door. It is Kakashi, complete with his hands in his pockets, an unusually perceptive look in his dark eyes contrasting with his regular slouch.

Sakura stares a bit. And then: "You used the front door."

"I ran into Kurenai at the cenotaph. Said you were just there, but left quickly."

Ah, that's right. She had seen Kurenai and her shy Akio there. He was at the Academy, wasn't he? That may or may not have been part of the reason she beat a hasty retreat when it was clear that Kakashi wasn't at the memorial. Sakura can recognize the beginning signs of secondary trauma in herself and almost laughs at the irony.

Kakashi is still looking at her, concern starting to build in the way his back straightens out. She sighs, cocking her head slightly to the side, and breathes. "How is it that you always know when I need to see you?"

He shrugs, and she takes two steps toward him, softly resting her forehead on the warm steadiness of his chest. His flak vest is scratchy and she isn't touching any other part of him, but it is enough for now. She just needs a minute. Or ten.

Kakashi moves. Takes her hands gently and nudges the top of her head with his chin. "Tell me about it over dinner, hm?"

Sakura lifts her head and looks at him with tired eyes. "You gonna cook?"

He has the decency to look sheepish. "Uh, I was thinking take-out."

A laugh bubbles in her chest, and she shoves him lightly, affectionately. "I'll cook then, you incorrigible man."

In all fairness, he does try to help her. Sets the table and grabs coasters and that kind of stuff. The remaining time he spends leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching as she silently drops ingredients into steaming broth. Love-hate relationship with Ichiraku aside, there are few things more comforting to Sakura than homemade ramen.

The story comes out as they eat. Kakashi, having been out on a mission, never had any part in the whole debacle, although he heard snippets of it throughout the village. He knows how much Sakura loathes senseless killing, but more than that he can see the underlying anxiety this has triggered in her. Apart from the obvious training part, there is another reason why the system of jounin sensei was created – older, more experienced shinobi can spot psychological instability in their young charges after the inevitable trauma. It is rare now, but Kakashi can still remember that in the first couple years after the last war, sometimes people would be quietly shunted out from their genin teams to become paper-pushers. There were even a couple among his graduating class. It is now clear that some fall through the cracks and never get the help they need.

"Stay," she says later, as they do the dishes quietly. He pauses in his wiping, and Sakura can see the flex in his exposed forearms as he considers what she is saying. "Just tonight," she continues, handing him another bowl. "I'll be okay tomorrow."

"Will you?"

Sakura swallows. Runs her thumb back and forth on a chip in one of the plates. "I will. Promise."

Kakashi nods. "Okay."

Kakashi dozes lightly all night. The spare futon on the floor is far from uncomfortable, but the restless movement from the occupant of the adjacent bed lingers on the edge of his consciousness. The shrill tone of an alarm clock near his head jars him into complete wakefulness suddenly; it is dawn, and Sakura heaves a sigh and sits up. Kakashi cracks an eye open to peer up at her, and it is immediately clear that she has not slept at all. Her head drops into her hands briefly, and then she runs a hand through tousled hair.

"What are we doing, Kakashi?" Her words drop heavily into the early morning quiet.

His mind draws a blank. Her question is unexpected, and while Kakashi cannot deny having entertained a series of very pretty "what-if"s before, he suddenly realizes that Sakura must have been thinking about this for a very long time.

There is a bit of a self-deprecating smile on Sakura's face as she shakes her head a little, as if not quite believing she had uttered those words herself. Kicking back her blankets, her legs swing over the edge of the bed away from him.

"I leave for a mission today," she softly offers, rummaging through her closet for her standard-issue gear.

Kakashi pulls himself up to rest on his elbows. "Mmm."

"I'll be back in a week."

"Solo?"

"Nah. Still classified though."

"I could probably find out what it is."

Sakura laughs. "I don't doubt that. My team leader is extremely competent though, so you won't have to worry."

"I don't worry."

Sakura turns to meet his lazy gaze. "Yes, you do," she softly says. "You do, and that's why you're still here."

She finishes packing in silence. At the door of her bedroom, she turns, her hand resting lightly on the doorjamb. "Regardless of everything, I am thankful every day to have a friend in you, Kakashi. I hope you never doubt that."

She gives him one last, long look and leaves.

a/n: Ahahahaha. Um. I'm alive? I'm alive and I offer a tempered mix of TEH CUTE and angst? There will most likely be only one more installment of this insanely long one-shot (YES remember this was written as a one-shot!), and it will not be one year before Kakashi and Sakura get their happy ending. I promise.