A/N: Tremendous thanks to all you reviewers/favoriters/followers. Your enthusiasm is a truly stellar motivator.

In other news, I've gotten several reviews demanding an explanation for the blatant lack of ShikaTema romancing (yes, I'm talking to you, brizamartian). And to that I say: patience, young grasshopper. In due time. For now, let's just crack on.

"Humanity does not ask us to be happy. It merely asks us to be brilliant on its behalf."—Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card

Chapter 4: Phase Two

"I fear this is only the beginning," rasped Gaara softly, his icy blue eyes holding a newfound intensity that Temari had never seen in them before. When she met her little brother's gaze, she usually found cold determination, or bloodlust, or occasionally even something approaching contentment. But what she saw just then was something she'd never suspected she'd see from Gaara. She could have sworn he looked afraid.

She supposed that the fear was warranted, but still. Her brother was always the strong one, the invincible one. He was the one with the Ultimate Defense; he couldn't be harmed, right? But clearly this rogue army had him quite shaken. In the past, Gaara had always been very cold and heartless, or at least he had been until after the Sand's attack on the Leaf during the Chunin Exams three years ago. After that, he was much more humble, softer around the edges but still cold, and very reluctant to show emotion to anyone, friend or foe, for fear that it would make him appear weak. Frankly, Temari was surprised that he was betraying this much emotion at present. But thinking back, this was his first real crisis in which he'd had to take charge since the Akatsuki's attack, and he hadn't been acknowledged by many of the villagers until he'd stepped in to protect them from the explosives, so this had the added significance of being the first crisis since Gaara had earned the village's whole-hearted trust and respect. Being Kazekage, and consequentially Commander-In-Chief, was turning out to be a rather exciting job for the sixteen-year-old. So exciting, in fact, that Temari could physically see the stress eating away at him. It pained her to see people like this, but who was she to talk? If she were honest, she was just about as stressed—she'd been through too much in the past day not to be. She'd partaken in a lengthy battle, witnessed the maiming of her comrades, played doctor, gotten a cruddy night of ache-inducing couch-sleep, had a fight inside a hospital (of all places), reunited Shikamaru with his friends, and now on top of all that she was receiving bad news. It was too much, even given that she'd come out of the battle uninjured. She couldn't even imagine how those who hadn't been so lucky were faring.

Temari shot a glance at Kankuro, hoping to find her answer. His rarely serious face was frozen in a perfect caricature of shock, eyes wide and glassy, mouth gaping mindlessly. Kankuro, not exactly well known for being a strategist, was clearly having a bit of trouble grasping Gaara's implications. Suddenly, he blinked, setting his perfect tableau in motion as he pumped himself up to ask questions they already knew the answers to. "Wait, so…you think they're planning another attack?"

"I'm certain," replied Gaara somberly.

"From the inside?" Kankuro emphasized, desperately hoping the answer was no.

It wasn't. Gaara and Temari's silence said as much.

"So they're gonna infiltrate," he stated plainly. "No big deal. We can just heighten security proceedings at the gate, right? That'll help weed out suspicious—"

"No, that won't work," Temari interjected, starting to pace. She glided back and forth across the tiny room, slowly at first, but picking up speed as the gears in her brain started turning. "If they're planning anything, they'll already be in the village. They probably got here before the battle." She turned back to Gaara. "In their letters, did any of the Kages mention when all the rogues began to leave?"

"The Mizukage said that she'd first noticed the pattern about a year ago, but that it had probably been going on for some time undetected. The others didn't say anything."

"But let's assume that it's the same for the Stone and Cloud villages. So this army has probably been forming for, what? Maybe eighteen months?"

Kankuro shrugged. "Seems reasonable."

"So this invasion has probably been planned for about a year. That's tons of time to send an advance squad. They probably filtered in one by one for months without us noticing, without us suspecting there would ever even be something to notice, waiting for the big army to give the signal to start Phase Two."

She stopped abruptly, mid-pace, pulling at straws. She was a decent strategist, everyone said so, so she should be able to come up with some sort of countermeasure, but for that she needed facts, data nobody had, or would probably ever have. She was stuck in the undesirable position of formulating a plan with no idea what exactly she was facing. Oh, well.

She addressed Gaara, forcing a calm tone into her voice. "We'll have to play this by ear. We don't have any information on our enemy, so there's absolutely no way to take preventative measures, except for being on heightened alert." She paused as something occurred to her. "But," she started, considering her options before continuing. "It's in our best interests not to let on that we know any of this. If these rogues, wherever they are, believe that we haven't caught onto their little scheme, they'll be less careful, y'know? Clumsier. It'll be easier for us to catch them that way."

"Yeah," interjected Kankuro, clearly intending to contest Temari, "but that also means that we can't be too obvious when we're spying around. We can't ask the whole army to be in on this—it'd be too noticeable and most of them'll still be in the hospital after yesterday. So if we do things your way, we'll be doing it with like, no manpower and it'll be that much harder for us to catch the fuckers."

"No, Kankuro," Gaara murmured in that certain way that seemed specifically manufactured to make people listen. "Temari's right. Our only hope is to catch them off guard."

Temari shot a triumphant glance at Kankuro, crossing her arms and shrugging one shoulder jauntily. She almost smiled. Almost, but not quite. She didn't think smiling would be an appropriate reaction just then.

"Well…" Kankuro trailed off, struggling for a way to finish the sentence. "We have to tell someone. It can't be us against the world. We're just three guys—"

Temari shot him a hard look.

"—fine. Two guys and a lady. But the fact remains that we can't do much by ourselves. We should tell the High Council, at least."

"Are you joking? That's the last thing we should do. Those old geezers are insufferable blabbermouths," Temari seethed. "And although I'll admit that only—what? Three of them?—have been appointed to the council within the past year, but every man on that council has his own network, and they'll blab to someone in that network who'll tell everyone in the network, and we have to assume that somewhere on that network, there will be an infiltrator. Until we can confirm someone's innocence, everyone has to be treated as an enemy. That's like, the first thing we teach the newbies at the academy." If possible, Temari's glare became even more pointed and sharp. "Isn't that right, Kankuro Sensei?"

Kankuro jerked his head angrily, knowing resistance was futile, but unwilling to abandon his conviction. "Well, can we tell Baki Sensei, at least? His hands are clean in this mess, and he's the only tight-lipped one on the council."

Temari envisioned her Sensei, tall and stoic, sporting his perpetual scowl, face half-covered by the white cloth dangling from his headband. Then she pictured that rarest of smiles, the one he'd graced her with after her promotion, and she felt the tension in her body melt away to be replaced by serenity. Kankuro was right. Baki could be trusted. "Alright," she conceded. "We can tell Baki, but pulling in anyone else is too much of a risk. Other than that, we're on our own."

"Whatever," grunted Kankuro. "But while we're on the subject, we should probably send something to the Hokage explaining everything. If this army is really targeting both the Sand and the Leaf, it's the least we can do to warn them that something might be coming their way."

Temari nearly slapped herself. How had she forgotten so quickly? The Leaf! There were five allies sitting a few floors below her who would be a tremendous help. She hoped Shikamaru would have some sort of brilliant plan to sort out this whole mess, maybe even help out his own village in case anything was going on there. And speaking of helping the leaf…

"We definitely have to inform them," she began, "but just sending a message is too risky. I'll consult Nara and see what he thinks, but if we really want to keep this a secret, we'll have to send someone there to tell the Hokage in person."

"Good point," Gaara admitted, just as Kankuro let out an angry squeak, expressing without words his outrage at the prospect of sacrificing manpower for secrecy once more.

"Kankuro, it's the only way this is going to work," consoled Temari, growing a bit impatient with her little brother's immaturity and general ineptitude.

"Whatever," Kankuro muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and pouting like a little girl being told that, no, she couldn't have a pony.

Temari, despite her emotional discipline, let out a quiet chuckle at that face. Kankuro made it somewhat frequently, and it was just as funny every time. "Alright," Temari said authoritatively, stifling her laughter. "So I'll go tell Nara and the rest about what we've figured out, see if he has any ideas. Gaara," she said, turning to him, "you go tell Baki. Kankuro," she said louder, as she was nearly certain her brother was already losing interest in the conversation. Sure enough, he jerked his head at the sound of his name, as if he'd been dozing off while standing up. His eyes were now wide, exaggeratedly aware. Temari noticed for the first time the dark circles beneath them and decided to take pity on him. "You go home, rest up."

Kankuro's face lit up at the prospect of going home, of plopping onto his bed and burrowing his aching body into the soft sheets until dinnertime, snoring away the day's troubles. He raised a single hand to his forehead and gave a wild salute. "Yes, sir!" he shouted, making his way to the door.

Temari cringed at the 'sir'. "Do you do that just to get on my nerves, or are you just stupid?"

Kankuro wiggled his fingers over his shoulder in a cheerful goodbye gesture. "Pissing you off is one of the few joys I have in life, big sis."

"You suck."

"Love you, too," he called faintly from his position halfway down the hall. Temari poked her head out the door and watched him round the corner into the stairwell, envying him more and more with every step. She wished she could go to bed that very second, just crawl between the sheets and cease her worrying, but she knew she couldn't. As always, she had work to do.

A frenzy began in the guest quarters as the sun started its lazy descent from its peak in the sky. Noon had come and gone, but Naruto's stomach had begun grumbling like clockwork as time ticked away. He was currently feverishly opening and closing every cupboard door in their tiny kitchen on a noisy quest for something, anything, tasty to eat. And Shikamaru had to listen to him.

"How does he have this much energy after yesterday?" he asked Choji quietly over the incessant slamming and occasional yell coming from Naruto's direction. Shikamaru was draped over the couch with his hands behind his head, positioned very precisely, so as not to aggravate his stitches. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but all he'd really wanted to do since waking up that morning was lie down.

"I wish I knew," Choji admitted. "If anyone ever figures out how he heals so fast…I don't really know how to finish that thought. But you get what I'm saying. It's seriously weird. You should have seen him this morning—his face was almost completely purple, nothing but bruises—and now, if it weren't for all the dirt on his clothes, you wouldn't even be able to tell he'd been part of the battle." Choji waved his cast-adorned arm around, wincing slightly. "I wish the same could be said for me."

"GAAAAAAAH!" Naruto cried from the kitchen. "Where is the FOOD?"

There was a faint clicking sound as one of the bedroom doors opened and Sai emerged. He looked, if possible, a bit more unhealthily gray than usual, his right eyebrow slightly swollen where he'd needed stitches. There was a beige gauze bandage wrapped tightly around his ribcage, poking out from underneath his shirt. Actually, Shikamaru felt like calling Sai's garment (whatever it was) a shirt was doing a severe injustice to shirts, as it only covered the top half of his abdomen, but he couldn't think of a better word. The bandage was shockingly bright in contrast to his dull skin and uniform. As he walked, he stood incredibly straight, as if afraid that poor posture would tweak his cracked ribs. His face betrayed no emotion, no pain (as usual), although Shikamaru was sure that his ribs must be giving him quite a bit of discomfort.

Shikamaru never really knew what to say to Sai. After all, the first time he'd met the guy, Sai had been attacking him for the express purpose of 'finding out if he had any balls,' as Naruto had put it. So they'd never exactly been friends—he wasn't sure it was possible to be friends with a drone like Sai—and he had no idea how best to communicate with him, so Shikamaru went for the obvious. "Hey, Sai," he said tentatively. "Feeling alright?"

"Yes, Captain," he responded without inflection. "Fine. I merely emerged from my room to inform you that you are being quite loud, and that if this noise level continues, you may awaken The Crazy One." He then glanced over at Naruto who, not really heeding Sai's warning, continued to bang around in the cupboards muttering food, food, food under his breath. Without taking his eyes off Naruto, Sai continued, "I now realize that I'm quite hungry."

Sai walked purposefully toward the kitchen, bare feet padding softly along the cool stone floor.

"The Crazy One?" Shikamaru asked, snorting slightly as he chuckled.

Choji smirked. "You know how he likes to give nicknames to everybody? How he thinks it creates like, a stronger friendship or some such shit?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, that's his name for Hinata."

"Hinata?" he barked, laughing uncontrollably. "But she's gotta be the sanest person I know."

"No, dude, I thought she was normal, too. But you never really know anything about a person 'til you've seen them high on pain meds. There is some weird shit in that girl's brain. I can tell you that. This morning, I was stuck helping Naruto carry her back here—one-handed, I might add—and she was being really loud, which is the exact opposite of how I would usually describe her. She was like, humming, and she kept pointing up at the sun and giggling like an idiot and then going, 'Look! It's Naruto!' And then she would reach up and try to tousle his hair, which made it really freaking difficult to carry her."

"YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" shouted Naruto at the top of his lungs, dancing spastically all around the tiny kitchen, forcing Sai to jump into a corner in order to avoid being smacked. "I FOUND THE INSTANT RAMEN!"

In a split second, Sai had found a way around Naruto's flailing limbs and had pressed his body tightly to Naruto's back, his hand reaching around Naruto's head to cover his mouth. "Shhhhhh!" he hissed. "Do you want to wake her up?"

All four of the boys in the room paused what they were doing for a moment to listen for Hinata's voice, but they heard nothing and continued with their business. Naruto's shocking blue eyes were wide in surprise at Sai's actions, but he recovered quickly. A sick, wet sound reached Shikamaru's ears and out of the corner of his eye he saw Sai recoil wildly from Naruto, crashing noisily into the counter (wincing horribly as he made contact) and holding his hand a fair distance away from his body as it dripped a clear, somewhat gelatinous liquid. "Naruto!" Sai shrieked indignantly. Shikamaru achieved a slightly sadistic level of glee when Sai's face dissolved from its usual stoic expression into a mindlessly outraged one. It looks like Choji was right, he thought. I guess he's human after all.

"Why did you just lick me?" Sai demanded.

"Well I had to get you off somehow, didn't I? And would you quit doing that? It's creepy."

"Doing what?"

"Getting so close to me!"

"But we're…comrades. Are we not supposed to be close? I read in a book once that—"

"I don't care what you read, Sai, just please don't get that close to me."

Naruto marched away to find something he could boil water in to make his ramen, the incessant clanking of pots and pans filling the eerie silence that had descended on the apartment. Suddenly though, out of the silence came a strong female voice, slightly muffled by a shut door. "Naruto?" it cried. "Where are you?"

Naruto, at that time buried bellybutton-deep in a cupboard beneath the sink searching for a suitable pan, banged his head painfully on the counter's edge at the sound of his name. He stood slowly, rubbing at the back of his head and cursing under his breath.

"I warned you that you'd wake her up," Sai lectured in his slightly less monotonous than usual 'I-told-you-so' voice.

"Shut up, man. It was totally you that woke her up."

"How so?"

"Naruto!" he imitated in a high, girlish voice, mocking Sai's moment of discomposure.

Sai looked down at the ground, ashamed. "You have a point," he admitted.

Naruto grinned, sloppy and lopsided and clapped Sai on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Sai," he said. "It was bound to happen sooner or later." Sai winced when Naruto's hand made contact, but looked rather pleased at the same time. Despite Sai's newfound array of facial expressions, Shikamaru was still having a rather difficult time reading him.

"Naruto?!" Hinata cried again, shattering Shikamaru's introspections. It turned out Hinata could be quite forceful and insistent when she wanted to be. The crippling shyness, it appeared, did not carry over to her drugged state.

Naruto gestured behind him in the general direction of the instant ramen. "Will you take care of that for me?" he asked Sai. "I'll try to get Hinata back to sleep."

Sai bowed somewhat awkwardly, trying to keep his spine perfectly straight so he didn't upset his wounds. "Of course."

Naruto smirked again as he walked past Sai in the direction of Hinata's room. "And quit bowing like that. We're comrades, remember?"

Sai's lips quirked into a genuine smile, his eyes twinkling.

Naruto swiftly crossed the room and opened Hinata's door to an emotional cry of, "Naruto, you're back! I love you…"

Shikamaru noticed Sai regress into his trademark fake smile, all joy draining from his eyes. He didn't know what to make of it.

Naruto, oblivious, sighed and resignedly replied, "I love you too, Hinata." He looked back to Shikamaru and Choji, still in the living room, and rolled his eyes at them before closing the door behind him.

Shikamaru shook his head. "He shouldn't lead her on like that. She's totally head-over-heels for him, and he's shrugging everything she's saying off like it's nothing. He's gonna confuse her."

"I don't think he even knows he's leading her on. He thinks she's joking."

"How could she possibly be joking? She nearly faints every time she sees him and now that she's all drugged up she's confessing her love to him. Where is the joke?"

"He's just really dense when it comes to girls. A better friend you'll scarcely find, but a better boyfriend? That's another matter."

Shikamaru glanced over his shoulder back at Sai, who was mindlessly filling a kettle with water to boil for Naruto's ramen, but gazing in the direction of Hinata's room with a shocking display of emotion on his face. When Sai didn't know someone was looking at him, he didn't bother to put on the façade Danzo had, no doubt, made him perfect in the Foundation. Sai looked inconceivably human, not at all the emotionless drone Shikamaru had always thought him to be. In his eyes, Shikamaru saw bewilderment, sadness, envy, and he even thought he saw longing, but he must have imagined that, right? It was unnerving nonetheless.

Shikamaru turned back to Choji. He didn't want Sai to hear his next question, so he murmured, "So what's up with Sai and Naruto? Did something happen? They're acting more awkward than usual."

"I don't think anything happened. I think it's just that Naruto knows him best and Sai's been trying really hard to be friendly lately and it just…you know…doesn't come naturally to him."

Shikamaru allowed himself to sink into the couch cushions, wincing slightly at the pull on his stitches but at the same time relishing the sensation of releasing some of the tension in his muscles. "Well," he sighed, "as long as it wasn't anything bad…"

There was a sharp click as the door to Hinata's room cracked open once more and Naruto peeked his head around it. "Yo, Shikamaru," he called. "I told her you're back, and she wants to talk to you."

Shikamaru heaved himself to his feet. "Alright," he grunted. He trudged the distance to Hinata's room and Naruto welcomed him, shutting the door behind them. With three people in the bedroom, it felt horribly cramped. The walls were the same cinderblock gray as the rest of the apartment, but the room was not nearly as, well…roomy. It was sparsely furnished, with only a bedside table, a lamp, and a bed (which, Shikamaru noted, was very similar to Temari's room), but the dimensions were almost comically tiny. The room couldn't have been larger than about six or seven feet square, with Hinata's proportionally miniscule bed taking up the entirety of the far wall and much of the room's floor space. Her bed had a harsh-looking metal frame and a barely-there mattress, with a few thin grayish sheets. There was a single grimy window on the far wall, letting in a shaft of filtered mid-day sun.

Hinata herself was seated on the bed, propped up against her single pillow with excellent posture, her right leg extended out before her, wrapped tightly in a lavender cast that stretched from calf to mid-thigh. Her right pant leg had been cut short to accommodate the cast. She had removed her jacket and tossed it to the floor, now wearing only her fishnet undershirt and all but exposing her sizeable breasts. Shikamaru noticed but wasn't particularly distracted, however when he looked briefly at Naruto, his sharp blue eyes were locked onto them. Shikamaru doubted he was capable of looking away. He smirked to himself. The fool probably didn't even realize that the show was entirely for his entertainment.

If Hinata noticed Naruto's intense fixation, she gave no indication, aside from the fact that her facial expression was perhaps a bit more smug than usual. Upon noticing Shikamaru, she broke into a face-splitting grin, exposing every one of per pearly whites in a stunning display of beauty. She really was milking it for all it was worth, Shikamaru thought.

"Shikamaru!" she cried in a strong, unfamiliar voice with her arms outstretched. Shikamaru hesitantly stepped forward, understanding that she wanted a hug but unsure it would be the best idea in her current state.

"Hey, Hinata," he hedged. "How're you feeling?"

"Fantastic! Like rainbows and sunshine…" she gushed, grabbing Shikamaru and pulling him into a tight hug despite his reluctance. Shikamaru hissed as she tugged on his stitches. She didn't notice. Instead, she continued hugging him and he felt her breasts squish against his chest. The sensation was not unpleasant, but he was very unnerved by the whole situation. The guys had been right—Hinata was most certainly not herself.

"They fixed me up so fast," Hinata said, finally releasing Shikamaru. He painstakingly returned to an upright position, pasting a fake smile across his face as Hinata continued talking. "They even gave me a purple cast to match my jacket! Purple!" She gestured helpfully to her cast, in case Shikamaru couldn't make the connection of his own volition.

"Well, you're certainly…enthusiastic," Shikamaru stated frankly.

Hinata only giggled in response.

Shikamaru plunged his hands deep into his pockets, waiting for her to begin some sort of conversation, but she merely looked back and forth between him and Naruto with her twinkling pale eyes, smiling like an idiot. Finally, Shikamaru cleared his throat. "Naruto said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I asked about you last night, but nobody knew where you were."

"I was at Temari's apartment. Nothing to worry about."

"Ooh, Temari…she's pretty. I hope you had fun," she said. "Lots and lots of fun…" She squinted up at him, tilting her head slightly. "Hehe…you know your head looks like a pineapple?"

Suddenly, her facial expression changed from gleeful to shocked, and her shoulders hunched visibly. "I'm hungry," she stated abruptly, her voice fainter than a few moments ago. She shifted as if she intended to get out of bed, but before she could move her legs, Naruto was at her side, a hand on each shoulder.

"No, Hinata," he whispered, his mouth mere inches from her ear. "You should stay in bed. I can bring you something to eat, okay?"

Hinata looked deep into Naruto's eyes, her face a mask of confusion. And then, as if the last remnants of the pain meds were leaving her system in a great, sudden wave, she slumped down even further, crossing her arms over her chest protectively, like she'd suddenly remembered the concept of modesty. Her eyes had lost some of their confident twinkle and there was a noticeable change in her demeanor. She looked almost scared. "N—n—Naruto?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking slightly. She sounded back to normal. Thank God, Shikamaru thought. He'd only been with her for about five minutes, but he was starting to get really freaked out by her transformation. Confident, goofy Hinata was just too weird. Her timid, genuine counterpart was much easier to deal with.

Shikamaru sighed, realizing from the rising color in her face that Hinata was about to faint, just as she usually did when in close proximity to a certain yellow-haired boy. He had to do something about that. "Naruto," he barked. "Go make her some food. I'll keep her company."

Naruto stood slowly, nodding slightly in Shikamaru's direction. "Right."

He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. As soon as he was out of earshot, Hinata turned frantically to Shikamaru. "Shikamaru, what's happening to me?" she asked in her breathy voice.

Shikamaru knelt by her bed, getting closer to her level. This was a technique he'd learned from his father about how to deal with panicky people. He'd had to use it several times on Ino, but he found that it always worked. Getting to the same level always eased them—that way, they were neither being talked down to, which could often make them feel as if they were being scolded, nor talked up to, which makes them feel like they are the subjects of high expectations. As things were, they stood (or rather, crouched and sat) eye-to-eye, and Hinata calmed almost immediately.

Shikamaru spoke in a low, clear voice, another trick of his dad's. "I think you're finally coming down off your pain medication. Do you feel like you're back to normal?"

Hinata picked at the sleeve of her fishnet shirt, her arms still crossed over her chest. She nodded somberly.

"That's good. How much do you remember from the past day or so?"

She blinked slowly, as if she hoped the day's events would play out behind her eyelids, but apparently she had no such luck. "N-not much," she admitted. "It's all sort of muddled."

"That's okay. That's all to be expected. What do you remember?"

"Umm…" she pondered. "Well…I remember…nothing, really. Just the past ten minutes or so. I'm sorry, by the way. I—I didn't mean what I said earlier. Your head doesn't look like a pineapple. I don't know why I—"

Shikamaru chuckled mildly, cutting her off. "It's alright, Hinata. You don't have to apologize."

Hinata nodded, ashamed nonetheless. She raised a finger from its place on her arm and gestured to a corner of the room, where a lump of fabric sat on the floor. "Would you mind getting my jacket for me?"

Shikamaru silently fetched the jacket and handed it to her. She received it graciously, but still refused to uncross her arms. "Could you turn around for a minute?"

Shikamaru almost rolled his eyes. Now she cares. But instead, he just turned around. He heard the swish of fabric over skin as she slid it on and the sharp zzzzzzzzzzzzzzip of the zipper, which he took as a signal to turn back around. "Thanks," she said, tugging at her sleeves.

"No problem," Shikamaru replied. They fell into silence, but Shikamaru knew that Hinata had more to say. He just had to give her time.

A minute or so passed, but ultimately she opened her mouth again. "I said a lot of weird things, didn't I?" she asked, her timid voice filled with dread.

Shikamaru looked pointedly at the ground. "So I've been hearing, yeah."

She took a deep breath. "Did I say anything about…him?" Her blank eyes were wide, pleading. She didn't use Naruto's name; she didn't say what she really meant, which was 'Does Naruto know I'm in love with him?'. She didn't need to. It was all written there, on her face. For a moment, Shikamaru pitied her, pitied her inability to acknowledge her true feelings to Naruto's face, pitied her insecurity, pitied her doubt. But he knew his pity did nothing to help.

"Don't worry, Hinata," he said softly. "He doesn't suspect a thing."

A tiny grin threatened to appear on her face. She bit her lip to smother it, but not before it reached her eyes. She was relieved, incredibly so. She nodded, twiddling her fingers in her lap. "Th—thanks, Shikamaru," she stuttered.

Suddenly, he heard voices from beyond the closed door. One was fairly deep, clearly male, the other somewhat higher, clearly female. The higher voice was elevated, argumentative. The deeper voice grew slowly to match it but was abruptly cut off at the same time Shikamaru heard a dull thud and the wall shook with considerable force. Naruto then came through the door holding a steaming bowl of instant ramen and two chopsticks, looking thoroughly displeased.

"Food's ready," he said at the same time as Shikamaru demanded, "What the hell was that?"

"Oh," Naruto said, setting the bowl on Hinata's bedside table. She picked up the bowl tentatively, muttered a thank you, and began slurping at the noodles.

"Temari's here," Naruto said, gesturing to the wall. "She was asking for you."

Shikamaru's face contorted incredulously. "So why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"She started talking to Sai, so I figured you had some time."

"Well what was that thud, then?"

"Oh. Sai tried to give her a nickname."

Shikamaru had had his mouth open, ready to shout some sort of angry reply, but he shut it abruptly as he understood, his teeth making a sharp click. "Ah," he said. "I bet she didn't like that."

"No. She. Did. Not."

The two boys stood opposite each other silently, the only sound in the room Hinata's slurping.

After a few seconds, Shikamaru couldn't stand the silence any more. "So what was it?"

"Huh?" Naruto responded dumbly.

"The nickname."

"I dunno."

Shikamaru quirked an eyebrow at him. "How do you not know?" he asked.

"I wasn't paying attention, man. I was cooking, remember?" he defended, pointing wildly at the ramen. Hinata widened her eyes, horrified, as if begging him not to bring her precious noodles into the argument.

"Making instant ramen doesn't qualify as cooking."

"Whatever. Just go talk to her."

Shikamaru shook his head, bemused. He turned and waved over his shoulder, exiting the room. He saw Temari just to the left of the door, her eyes aflame, teeth bared. Sai was pinned against the wall with Temari's forearm pressed against his neck. Sai's expressionless face was turning blue, which Shikamaru knew could not possibly be a good sign. He hooked an arm through Temari's and dragged her backwards, away from Sai. She flashed him a startled look, as if she had not fully processed he was there.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"Stopping you before you kill one of my squad members," Shikamaru replied tersely. Temari jerked her arm from Shikamaru's grasp and turned until she was walking half a step behind him. She was putting considerable force behind her footsteps, shaking the floor with every stomp. She was angry. No different than usual, really, but Shikamaru hated dealing with angry women. She was behind him, so he couldn't see her face, but he could imagine it perfectly. The flared nostrils, the puckered lips, the widened eyes. He wasn't quite sure he knew whether she was still angry with Sai or if she'd transferred her focus to someone else—say, him—but he didn't want to give her a chance to confirm the thought one way or the other. In the moment he knew her mouth would likely open to interject some sort of angry retort, he cut her off. "And I'm sure he said something to deserve a beating; he does that a lot. But it's not entirely his fault," he explained, arriving in the far corner of the apartment, thrusting his fists deep into his pockets, and turning to face her directly. Sure enough, her mouth was hanging open and her nostrils were wrinkled in horror and disgust.

"So it's not his fault that he called me a 'Well-Endowed Spike-Head'?"

Shikamaru snickered. "That's what he called you?" he asked, incredulous. "That's pathetic! How could that possibly make you that angry?"

"He was objectifying me!"

"Jeez, you're such a feminist," he muttered under his breath before continuing at a normal volume. "No, he wasn't—I'm pretty sure he has no idea why you're offended right now. He just makes observations about people and then makes them into nicknames 'cause he read somewhere that doing that is a good way to make friends."

"And he hasn't figured out that it doesn't work yet?"

"Apparently not."

"And how is 'Well-Endowed Spike-Head' a good nickname? It sucks."

"I didn't say they were good. I just said they were nicknames. Quit embellishing my words." He looked down at his filthy shoes, knowing that what he was about to say was probably going to earn him a slap or two. "But you have to admit, he's right."

Temari tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in that terrifying way of hers, the one where as soon as it hits you, you know you're in serious trouble. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean…" he began, jerking his head at her chest, where her shirt gave a tiny preview of her cleavage, trying to pass off the gesture as something off-hand and strictly observational, as he thought that was as good a tactic as any to minimize the beating he was sure to get. "And," he added as an afterthought, "your hair is pretty spiky."

"You're one to talk," she shot back.

"Hey!" he said, taking offense. "My hair is not the issue here. The issue here is…actually, why are you here? You never told me."

Suddenly, Temari's whole demeanor shifted. She no longer looked angry. She looked dead serious, even a little scared. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. A few seconds after she exhaled, she opened her eyes, and then it was there, plain to see. The fear. Something had really shaken Temari, and Shikamaru wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. Oh, well. It's not like there was really anything he could do to get out of it anyway.

She fixed him with the penetrating stare she reserved for when she really meant business, took another deep breath, and finally spoke.

"We have a major problem," Temari whispered. She felt her voice crack and hated it. She looked weak, she could tell. She could feel it in her bones, buried deep. She wanted to purge herself of that weakness, but knew that now was not the time or place.

She snapped out of her introspection just in time to see Shikamaru reading her face. He was squinting at her, searching for answers, and apparently he found something because after a few moments he spoke. "You think there are going to be more attacks."

It was unnerving how he could do that, just look a person and know exactly what they were thinking. And she supposed it was invaluable in battle, but it was downright frightening to be on the receiving end.

"Yes," she confirmed. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't," he said. "But that was the only thing I could think of that could possibly merit this sort of reaction in you. You're about as serious as I've ever seen you, and that only ever happens when you think the village is in danger." He shrugged somewhat cheekily. "It's just logic."

Temari shook her head. Unbelievable. That's what he was.

She realized he was looking at her expectantly. "What?" she asked.

"Well, what have you figured out already?"

"Oh!" she breathed, horrified that she'd gotten distracted so easily. She quickly rattled off all the data Gaara had uncovered, as well as the plan they'd formulated to deal with the threat. Shikamaru took all the information stoically, giving no indication that he was even hearing the words pouring out of her mouth aside from the subtle back-and-forth movement of his eyes that she knew meant he was working something out in his head, looking for the best options. As she finished her explanation, he nodded.

"That makes sense," he conceded. "I probably would've come up with something like that."

"Yeah, but better, no doubt."

"Well," he shrugged, a slightly smug tone slinking into his raspy voice, "I do have an idea…"

"Yeah?"

"You said you wanted to send someone to tell the Hokage about all this in person, right?"

Temari nodded. "That's the only way we can really keep things under wraps. Sending a scroll would be too risky—it'd be too easy to intercept."

"My thoughts exactly. And we'll need to send you, that's obvious—"

"How is that obvious? And besides, I can't go. The weekend's almost over and I have to teach on Monday."

"I'll Sub for you."

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it? Don't forget, I teach at the Leaf Academy sometimes. Besides, what was your alternative?"

"I thought you would go."

"I can't. That goes against Leaf protocol. I'm Captain, so I can't leave my squad by themselves, and definitely not until everyone's fit to travel. And Hinata's leg won't be healed for a few weeks at least. Besides, it should be a Sand ninja who tells Tsunade, just from a diplomatic point of view."

Temari rolled her eyes. Shikamaru had never really cared for the rules, but he could certainly use them when it suited him. "Fine," she sighed. "I'll go."

"Great, but there's still a problem. If—no, not if. When you go, we'll be running on even less manpower than we already have. Plus, it's a six-day round trip on foot. We can't risk that."

Temari furrowed her brow, confused. "If we can't risk the six-day trip, then why are we even having this conversation?"

"It's only six days on foot. If you go by air, it's only two."

"What're you getting at? I don't know anyone who can fly, Nara."

"No, but I know someone who can." He abruptly turned and walked to the other side of the room, leaving Temari gaping, wondering exactly what she was getting herself into.

Shikamaru marched over to Sai, where he was still leaning against the wall after Temari's surprise attack. He took a moment to feel bad for the poor sociopath, but then he was all business. "Sai, are you healed enough to fly?"

"It will be uncomfortable, Captain, but yes, I believe I can."

"Excellent," he said, glancing out the window. More time had passed than he'd realized. The sun was well on its way to setting, and there would be no sense in sending them overnight. Then they'd just be exhausted, and they'd need time on the other end to recover. No. He'd have to send them in the morning. "You're going to fly Temari to the Hidden Leaf, first thing tomorrow morning. She has an urgent message for Lady Tsunade. You'll meet her at the village gate at sunrise."

Sai bowed his head slightly. "Yes, Captain. Is that all?"

"No, actually. While you're there, I need you to run a couple errands for me."

"Errands, Captain?"

"Yeah. I need you to track down Ino, Kiba, and Shino, and bring them back with you."

"Of course."

Shikamaru thought they were through, so he began to pivot in order to return to Temari, but Sai caught him by the shoulder before he could. Shikamaru could see that Sai was feeling fairly apprehensive, but he wasn't sure why.

"With all due respect, are you sure this is the best idea, Captain?" Sai asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Sending me with her. I get the feeling she doesn't like me. Generally, when a person punches me in the face, it means I've called them something insulting and that they hate me."

"Has it ever occurred to you that it might be safer to not give people nicknames?"

"But I read in a book that—"

"You can't believe everything you read in books," he said, glancing over his shoulder where he could see that Temari was still having a bit of trouble controlling her rage. "And I guess she's not too keen on you right now," he admitted, facing Sai once more, "but I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually."

He turned to leave but stopped himself this time. "But Sai," he said, "maybe just call her Temari from now on."

One side of Sai's mouth twitched slightly, as if he wanted to smile but couldn't. He raised one hand to his throat, where Temari had been holding him to the wall. He brushed his fingers across it lightly, as if remembering the pain. "Will do," he said.

A few moments later, Shikamaru returned to Temari with a rather satisfied look on his face. "So that's all set," he said, clearly intending not to acknowledge anything that had just happened. Temari wasn't going to let him do that.

"Him?" she asked. "You're sending me with him?"

"Yes. He can get you there and back in two days, along with some extra help I've requested."

"What extra help?"

"There's no way we can pull this off without some Sensory Type ninja, so I've just gotten us some."

"Your friends?"

"Yep. The best in the business."

Temari sighed, resigned now to her fate. "Alright. So when do we leave?"

"First thing tomorrow morning. I told Sai to meet you at the gate at sunrise."

Temari balked. "Sunrise?! Dammit, Nara, when am I supposed to sleep?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "You could always go to bed early."

He really didn't seem to understand—Temari. Does. Not. Wake. Up. Early. It simply is not done. Sleep is sacred. And Shikamaru was messing with it. But she also knew that on some level, he was only doing and saying things because they needed to be done and said. He never did anything for any other reason, so she supposed she had to respect his decisions. They were for the good of her village, after all. He didn't have anything to gain by helping her, but here he was. He really wasn't a horrible guy, even if he was stealing her sleep from her. Somehow, Shikamaru always seemed to get away with anything when it came to her. He was the only one exempt from her temper. Despite her outrage, she found herself smiling.

"What time is it, anyway?" she asked.

They simultaneously turned to look out the window, evaluating the sun's angle.

"About four o'clock?" Shikamaru estimated.

"Yeah," Temari conceded. "Have we really been talking for that long?"

"Apparently."

"Hm," Temari sighed, suddenly remembering how tired she was. "Well if that's the case, I'm gonna go take a shower. I have other peoples' blood in my hair, and I need to do something about that."

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea," he said, grinning in that crooked way of his. Temari made to leave, but then Shikamaru stopped her with a word. "Temari?" he asked, and she could have sworn he sounded a little nervous.

"What?" she asked, suddenly on edge.

"It's just that…I noticed earlier that this apartment only has three bedrooms and, well…"

Temari raised a hand and bonked herself on the forehead. She was such a moron. The guest quarters had been built with typical diplomatic squads of three in mind. The Sand rarely received visitors, so they were ill-prepared, and now—

"There are five of you," Temari finished for him.

"Yeah. And Choji already took the couch."

As if to punctuate the point, Choji, who had been in the kitchen, trudged into the room and plunked onto the couch, putting his hands behind his head and kicking back and looking very, very comfortable.

"So…" Shikamaru hedged, scuffing his foot against the ground. "Where do I sleep?"

Temari would have thought about it, but there really weren't any options. This was one other guest space, but she knew Shikamaru well enough to know he wouldn't want to stay alone, so there was one other choice. "I guess you can keep staying at my place," she offered.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "'cause I don't want to be a burden."

"You were always a burden, but I think I can deal with living with you for a little while longer."

Shikamaru clapped his hands once, looking very relieved to have a place to sleep. "Thank you," he said.

"Shut up. I'm going home," Temari muttered, waving him away. She started walking slowly toward the door, but paused to glance back at him. "Are you coming, or what?"

Shikamaru instantly leaped into action, racing to Temari's side. "Bye, guys," he said, waving. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Naruto, who was in the kitchen, give Shikamaru a knowing stare. She didn't know what to make of it, so she just let it go.

An hour or so later, Temari and Shikamaru had both taken their turns in the shower, and Shikamaru was feeling considerably better. The hot water had stung when it ran over his stitches, but it was a good sting. As the water trickled down his body, it had turned a nasty reddish brown, carrying all the dirt and blood with it down the drain. His skin now looked impossibly clean, almost as though the battle had never taken place. He pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the shower, noticing a set of black sweats on the floor, waiting for him. Temari had borrowed more of Kankuro's clothes for him to wear. That was nice of her, even if they were too big.

He dried off and slipped into the sweats, tightening the drawstring and rolling up the legs, marveling at how soft the fabric was. He'd forgotten how soft clothes could be—his own clothes had been so caked with dirt that it had been almost like wearing stone. And speaking of his own clothes…where were they? He didn't see them anywhere. He'd have to ask Temari. He removed his hair tie from his wrist, where he'd placed it for safekeeping during his shower, and quickly put his hair into his trademark ponytail. He couldn't stand walking around with his hair down.

Dressed, he left the bathroom in search of Temari and found her at the counter in her tiny kitchen, munching on a rice ball. Her hair, he couldn't help but notice, was down. It looked much darker wet, and it hung to just above her shoulders. She was wearing black shorts and a matching tank top. Why does everyone in this village insist on wearing black? he asked himself. Don't they know they live in a desert?

Temari, noticing him for the first time, raised her half-eaten rice ball as a way of greeting. Her cheeks were stuffed, so talking wasn't really an option right now. Shikamaru entered the kitchen and watched in awe as Temari stuffed the remainder of her rice ball into her mouth and swallowed. It was not a small rice ball. She quickly grabbed another from the plate in front of her.

"Didn't eat lunch," she mumbled around another bite of rice. "Want one? They're good."

Shikamaru graciously picked one from the plate and took a bite. She was right—they were good. He polished off that rice ball and, suddenly famished, seized another.

After a few more bites, he finally remembered that he had a question for her. "Temari, did you do something with my clothes? I didn't see them."

Her eyes widened in recognition, and she made a small noise in the back of her throat, but that could have meant anything. Her mouth was too full to speak again. She swallowed, coughing slightly, but answered. "Yeah, I gave them to Keiko, our housekeeper. That's one of the perks of being the Kazekage's personal guard—you have someone to do your laundry for you."

Shikamaru laughed, an easy laugh that bubbled to the surface before he could stop it. "Sounds nice," he admitted.

"Oh, it is," she said, yawning. She looked absolutely exhausted. Now that she was clean, the dark circles under her eyes were even more pronounced, and he was sure that his were bad, too.

"I guess neither of us got much sleep last night, eh?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"I guess not," Temari responded mildly.

Shikamaru guiltily remembered the way she'd gotten up in the middle of the night to comfort him. "Sorry 'bout that, by the way."

"Don't mention it," she said, stretching her arms out behind her and arching her back. Shikamaru heard several joints crack and Temari let out a relieved sigh. "That's better. I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"Alright." Shikamaru watched her walk away, admiring the grace with which she navigated the apartment. She was crossing the living room when a thought struck him. "So am I taking the couch tonight?" he inquired, dreading the answer.

Temari snorted good-naturedly. "You're kidding, right? Didn't you just hear my joints? I can't sentence you to that couch, especially with your stitches. It's hard and horrible. Sleeping on that is a fate worse than death. Nah, you can share the bed."

Shikamaru balked. "Really?" he asked dubiously.

"Yeah. It's a big bed. You're not afraid of cooties or anything, are you?" she asked quite seriously. It took him a beat to realize she was mocking him.

"Don't be ridiculous," he defended.

"That's what I thought," she smirked. She continued walking to the bedroom. "You coming?"

Bossy woman. Such a drag. "Yeah."

He jogged past the couch and entered Temari's bedroom, where she was pulling her curtains closed, shutting out the last dregs of orange light from the desert sunset. They climbed beneath the covers, and Temari was right—there was plenty of room. Without speaking, they rolled until they were back-to-back, albeit a couple feet apart. The mattress moved slightly as Temari adjusted her position, and Shikamaru found that it was fairly comforting, sharing a bed with someone. You could feel their presence, and they affected you just as you affected them. It created a back-and-forth motion not dissimilar to being rocked to sleep. The smell he'd noticed the night before was even stronger now, and he was surrounded by the scent of Temari's shampoo and fabric softener and he felt himself drifting away, feeling that, for once in his life, he wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open because Temari was there and they would keep each other safe because that's what friends did. And they were friends. Shikamaru knew that with certainty now.

Temari clicked off her lamp and the room was bathed in total darkness.

"G'night," Shikamaru muttered into his pillow, barely conscious.

"Good night, Nara," he heard back, just as he slipped into sleep, oblivious to the world.

By the time he woke up the following morning, Temari was already gone, departed with the sunrise.

End Notes: So…yeah. Not much happened this chapter. Sorry 'bout that. I had real plans, but then my brain started going at hyperspeed and my hands were trying to catch up, and the plot got lost somewhere in that whole process, but fear not! The plot is coming! Next chapter. I promise. I also promise that this will be the last unbearably slow chapter. Expect things to pick up in the near future. But thank you for reading this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it despite the lack of substance.

As always, please REVIEW! There is nothing in the world that makes me as happy as seeing a review in my inbox.