You didn't feel it before—you couldn't feel it before, but you know now…can imagine it—feel it as it steals from your body. You feel it drain your soul with every beat of your heart and you want to tear it from your body so bad, you can taste it. And then…a voice from the back of your head reminds you it's alive and you hesitate, but another voice reminds you of the horrible memories associated with that parasite—that thing. And in midst of those memories, you realize it's a part of you, and it is that fact that you mourn for.

.

.

.

Sakura woke up to the sun in her eyes and rose her hand up to shield them from the glare. It was morning, early morning judging from the amount of light filtering through her window, and she fell back against her pillows with a contented sigh. She had forgotten how good it was to be in a comfy bed. Especially since she had been pulling double shifts at the hospital and spent the better part of the week sleeping with textbooks wedged into her back and front. She had forgotten how much it hurt to sleep in awkward positions.

Stretching her back, hearing the joints pop in her spine and feeling the tension in her back melt away, she sighed in pleasure just in time to hear a tap on her window.

"Sakura."

She looked up, watching as the person standing on the small balcony outside her window unlatched the lock and opened the barrier to pop their head inside. "Meeting with Tsunade-hime. She said it was urgent."

Sakura nodded in response and the speaker continued. "Should I wait for you or go ahead?"

"Um…wait for me. I'll be just a few minutes."

And they nodded before leaping the 18 feet from her window to the ground as she rushed into the shower and changed into her clothing, the red vest and tan skirt outfit she wore when she was fifteen.

She stood by the window, watching the white curtains billow in the breeze as she debated leaving through the window or walking out the door before deciding on the latter since she was starting to ache all over her body. She had no idea what was wrong. It was probably something minor, but it was better to be safe than sorry, she told herself as she finished the bun she put her hair into.

Closing the window and locking the door behind her as she left, she climbed down the stairs before meeting up with her companion. "Sorry for being late, Kakashi," she said as she completed the knot on her hitai-ate at the base of her neck.

"No problem," he replied as he walked towards their destination, Sakura falling into step beside him as the sounds of suburbia surrounded them; the laughter of children, the squeaky wheel of the bicycle that belonged to the little boy on the corner, the birds twittering in the conifer tree in the backyard of Ishibashi-san, and the sound of the woman watering her lilacs in the front yard tickled their ears as the sunlight kissed their cheeks and the wind ruffled their hair. Sakura looked up.

"Why do you think she called this meeting?"

"I don't know, but she sounded urgent on the phone."

"It must be urgent if she called instead of sending Izumo or Kotetsu," Sakura commented.

"Then we have no need to hurry," Kakashi said with a teasing smile, flinching as Sakura lightly punched his shoulder in warning before rubbing the sore spot and laughing good-naturedly with her.

Sakura smiled at the moment they were sharing as a warm glow touched something inside of her. It was something to be treasured; something she wanted to put into a jar or a box and look upon it from time to time to relive this feeling of bliss. Simplicity was a rarity nowadays, ever since it happened, but happiness was starting to weave its way back into her life and for that, she was glad.

She glanced up at the man with his head slightly down and back slouched as he walked with purpose and she giggled quietly to herself at the paradox that he exuded and she created for herself. It was nice to see him like she remembered. Before, she'd see him with his back straight, hands folded politely in his lap and legs tucked neatly underneath him if he was sitting on the floor or flat on the ground if in a chair. The memory frightened her a bit, seeing Kakashi like that puzzled her, and people fear that which is unknown. It was so bizarre to see him so proper. Not in Tsunade's presence or even the council's presence had he acted so proper. He was running on autopilot, like every action had been planned by someone else and every word had been scripted. She even remembered an urge to shout that he was an imposter because the Kakashi she remembered was never so cold.

She closed her eyes, soaking in the sun and the sounds of the bustling people around her when she felt herself slip into a memory. It was from three weeks ago, when he first came to her. She remembered it because it was raining that day and the weather forecasts mention nothing about the sudden storm. She had heard repeated knocking on her door and set down her tea and book before answering it. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Kakashi there. Immediately, she became worried and quickly scanned him over for any injuries, just like she used to when he came knocking at her door or on her window at odd hours for a medic's touch. Old habits die hard, she mused.

As soon as she gently placed her hand on his shoulder, he turned to her, and she would never forget the look in his eyes. He looked sad, guilt-ridden, lost, and…tired—like he was so exhausted by living. He opened his mouth to speak, but his hands shook nervously. He tried again, but before he could say anything, she said she was going to get him some tea—bide him time. After all, words were a hard thing to produce.

After a few minutes, she set down two identical cups of tea. He thanked her for her politeness, but didn't touch it, and she noticed that his hands weren't shaking anymore before turning her full attention at him. He sighed.

"I want you to help me."

Sakura blinked, jaw hanging slightly open. "I'm sorry?"

"I want you to help me," he repeated. His eyes held the same determination, but his tone slightly more nervous than before. Watching her staring at him like a deer caught in headlights made him have second thoughts. Was he in the right to ask this? She had told him that he could come to her with anything, but could she have known he would have asked this? That he would ask for her counsel?

A laugh echoed in the hollows of his mind as he realized the irony of the situation. A rapist asking for help from his victim. He couldn't help the bemused smirk that crossed his lips.

Pushing away traitorous thoughts, he let his eyes scan her living room. White walls, a wooden coffee table, a worn leather couch, a television, and an end table with what looked to be a beige lamp shade. A stack of magazines were placed atop her coffee table and a scroll spilled over the side to pool over itself on her carpeted floors. All in all, it was a nice living room—larger than his, but surprisingly empty. Her voice rang in his ear.

"…why me?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his for answers. He didn't dare raise his head.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, regretting that fact. Why was he asking her?

'Because you were there. Because you won't look at me like I'm some twisted bastard that gets off on this stuff. Because I trust you,' a voice rang out in his head causing him to furrow his brows in thought.

"Kakashi?" she asked in a pleading tone and she tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at her. His fingers intertwined in his lap and he felt his eye twitch slightly. Bowing his head, he forced the words out.

"Because you'll understand…"

And as soon as he said those words, he began noticing things. His right leg had been jarring as he mustered up his courage, his hands were planted firmly on his knees, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes in fat, hot trails.

Feelings were rushing a mile a minute through his body, like his body had suddenly gone haywire. It was frightening and wonderful at the same time, and he suddenly launched himself at her.

And when he felt her receive him with open arms, hands in his hair and holding him to her like a mother comforting her child, he felt so relieved.

As he continued to cry, incoherent ramblings spilling forth from his mouth, muffled by his mask, he realized he was never more grateful for the touch of another human being.

The days following from there were spent at her house. He would meet her everyday for breakfast or lunch and they'd talk for a few hours. They always started small, mundane things like recipes and how Pakkun was doing. After that, she'd leave the subjects to him. Whatever he wanted, she would listen to.

It was…awkward baring his soul. The things he told her were the things he never told anyone, the things he wouldn't even admit to himself, like how similar he was to his father that it scared him. How in retrospective, he felt ashamed of shunning the man that had raised him. He had even told her of a memory between him and his family. It was Christmas Eve, and he was only five-years-old. His mother was setting up a small plastic Christmas tree, putting on last minute decorations and placing it on the table when his father barged into the living room covered in blood and looking like hell and his mother had screamed at him before batting him with the broom she grabbed from the kitchen.

It had seemed so trivial back then, a Christmas spent opening presents with snowman-wrapping paper covered in smudged fingerprints painted in blood and picking straw from his father's hair, but now, he found it hilarious. When he told her, he just couldn't stop laughing at the memory of his mother's face that tears came to his eyes. It was just so funny! And yet, in the midst of the laughter, he was saddened to know another Christmas like that one would never take place. His mother died of leukemia the following year and all he could remember from that year was staring at his mother's grave as snow drifted gently to the ground.

The recovery seemed to become easier after that. Sharing private pieces of his life made it easier, and then, he reached the thing he wanted to talk to her about. The rape.

When he initially brought it up, the first thing he noticed was the fact that her spine had snapped straight. A slight sheen of sweat coated her forehead and fear flickered over her eyes constantly. He had hesitated, swallowed loud enough to be heard, but pressed on. This was something he had to face. They both did.

"So…"

And then he paused. Despite the urgency of this, he wondered how you would bring up something like rape. 'Hi, I raped you and I'm sorry?' Things didn't work like that. If they did, the judicial system would've never been invented and there would be no need for shinobi like him. He tried starting again.

"I—"

"What happened?" And he looked up, startled by the interruption and shook his head as if he disbelieved the moment. "What?"

"What happened, Kakashi? I only heard what your side of the story from other people, but I want to hear it from you. So…what happened?"

Surprised by her bluntness, he couldn't say that it hadn't made it easier since he had a place to start from.

"Well, I don't know really. I'm still trying to figure that out myself," he said chuckling nervously before seeing the stern look on her face. "But! But…it started a few hours after I sent Pakkun off for reinforcements."

"I remember that."

"Yeah. You were still fighting those guys from before."

"Which ones?"

"The one with the tattoo and the fat one."

"I remember."

"Anyway, I finished off my opponents when I saw the last one from the group that attacked us. It was Isao."

Sakura stayed quiet for this.

"He…we started fighting. Even though I had my Sharingan, my energy was low, so while he hid in the trees, I tried to rest up. He started telling me about his home life and I thought I could get him while he was distracted, but he got me. I was so busy trying to conserve energy that I got careless. Damn it, I let my guard down," he cursed, slamming his fist into the armrest. His hand clenched and unclenched constantly. Sakura just sat quietly and listened.

"When we were falling from the tree, he hit me with a jutsu, specially designed to combat me and my Sharingan. When we landed, I got knocked out, but when I came to…I don't know…it was like I was in another dimension. It was sort of like the Mangekyou, but it was different. It was black and there was some sort of circle at my feet covered in writing and lines and I was bound to a glowing pentagram, and when I looked up, I was looking out a giant circle.

"It was so surreal, like watching a movie or looking at something from a window. You're seeing things that you aren't a part of, and what I saw was the forest…and you…

"A little after I came to, Isao started talking to me. He told me that he was going to make my life a living hell and wish that I'd just died, and he was right. He took control of my body and used me to rape you, Sakura."

And she let him talk from there, about how he forced him out of his body, and how sorry he was, and other things until he could barely keep his eyes open.

That night, Sakura let him sleep on her couch. She took off his headband and helped put his legs up, and smiled beside herself at the man who lay sprawled across her couch. It seemed so queer because at full height, his limbs were dangling off the sides.

Looking at him, she couldn't help that her smile grew. She was so happy he told her. She was flattered that her dispelling of Ino's jutsu helped Kakashi, but that didn't have anything to do with the joy in her heart. She was so happy because of the fact that he could look her in the eye and tell her his side of the story meant that he was recovering, and what more could she ask for?

And yet, despite all that, all she could think of when she tucked the man in was how cute he looked asleep on her couch.

When Kakashi and Sakura walked into the Hokage's office, they knew not to expect bright faces, but when they entered the room, it felt like someone drained the life out of the room. Naruto was fidgeting where he stood, and Sasuke's eyes were flitting around constantly, a nervous habit of his, but what really worried them was the fact that not only was Shizune in the room, Tsunade was sober.

"Since you've finally decided to show up. Shizune, could you get the door? I don't want any interruptions," Tsunade said as she laced her fingers together under her chin, only letting her gaze stray to the door before letting it rest on the four before her. She let out a sigh. It was going to be hell to tell them—heck, even she still had trouble believing it, but…the tests hadn't been wrong. She had done them herself.

"Shishou? Is something the matter?" Sakura asked, hesitantly stepping forward. When the older woman trained her gaze on her, Sakura felt her throat close up. There was something foreboding about the way she was looking at her. What was going on?

"Shishou…"

"Sit down, everyone."

Surprisingly, they all did what they were told. Even Hatake listened. Idly, she wondered how else could she illicit such an atmosphere that could command such obedience before an urge to slap herself made itself known. Even if she was looking for distractions, that was a despicable thought. She would need a drink later.

Closing her eyes, she wondered how she would tell them. As much as she didn't to tell them—even she didn't want to know—it would eventually be known. That she could be certain.

In the silence, she realized she could hear everything, the gentle drumming of Sasuke's fingers on his thigh, the muffled exhales that came from Kakashi, and the splintering of the wooden chair from under Naruto's fingertips. Sakura was surprisingly calm, but that wouldn't last long and she wondered how her former apprentice would react. She exhaled. Naruto growled.

"Augh! I can't take this any longer! Baa-chan, stop setting up this stupid ominous aura and tell us whatever you called us in for."

And it was when Tsunade did not acknowledge her hated nickname with a beating or a smile that Naruto realized how serious it was. He shook slightly in his chair, and from the corner of his eyes, Sasuke's knuckles turned white in his lap. Tsunade sighed softly.

"There is no easy way to tell you this," she began and Sakura's eyes immediately left the floor to rest on her former mentor's face.

"Shishou?" she asked nervously.

"Sakura…you're pregnant."