Day 20

- Sharing a Bed -

There are adoption papers on the Kazekage's desk. Untouched, not marked by pen nor pencil, the papers lie simply on the wooden surface as if they had appeared out of nowhere, as if they were not brought from the adoption center and placed specifically on this desk, owned specifically by Lord Gaara, the Kazekage, and Hinata's current boyfriend of nine months.

There are very few people who have access to this office when the Kazekage is not about.

Temari would have no reason to bring adoption papers to her littlest brother.

Kankuro, though it would be in his nature to play such a prank, is not interested in visiting any sort of hotspot for children — no matter how much of a gremlin he may be on that particular day.

Hinata, well, Hinata is the one who has discovered these papers. If she left them here, then she wouldn't be discovering them.

Three out of the four options are out, only leaving one possibility.

Gaara — that Gaara — left them here. Adoption papers. On his desk.

In the eight months they have dated, they have kissed exactly two times and haven't gone past hand holding and a little bit of grinding against each other. He presses her palm to his mouth when wishing her a good night, and then he leaves her in her room, and she does not follow him to his. They are comfortable, and they are happy, and they make time for each other in their busy and sometimes uncorrelated schedules, but they have never — not once — talked about even the possibility of children since that night all those months ago, when he confessed that he dreams about her.

And yet, there are adoption papers on his desk.

Truthfully, Hinata is not sure what to feel. There's a sort of cold drift floating through her body that serves to fill the lack of emotions currently zapping through her system. Though she has not been in a serious relationship before this one, she thinks that when one's partner is considering a big change, the right thing to do is to discuss it with their partner. Gaara has said nothing about this, and Hinata thinks she should feel bothered — betrayed or angry, even — but, then again, she's not sure if she has the right to. True, this is a serious relationship, but they are not Temari and Shikamaru. They are not sharing beds and writing letters and considering engagement rings. They aren't on the cusp of marriage, their only obstacle being their loyalty and duties to their respective villages. If Shikamaru were to consider adoption, Temari would have to know because Temari is his future.

Hinata . . . .

Hinata's not sure if she's Gaara's future.

Not to say she wouldn't want to be — it's just that she's here as Konoha's Ambassador, and he's the Kazekage. They have more to worry about than what their relationship will look like a year — two years — five years from now.

If Gaara's thinking about adopting, does she really have a say in it?

From the windows, the cliffs are beginning to shape. Some paths and homes have already been constructed on the lower levels. Hinata thinks of them as fingerprints. Her fingerprints. She's already left her mark on Suna.

Will she be able to leave one on Gaara as well?

...

Gaara does not look surprised when he enters his office, finding her in his chair, adoption papers in hand as she reads through them. He pulls his hat from his head, rests it on top of a side table by the door, and loosens the tie keeping his robe tightly secured against his form. He does not ask her to stand, to move out of the way; Gaara stands on the other side of the desk, evaluating something that may or may not include her, and he waits.

He wants her to speak first.

Hinata hadn't planned for this. Really, she's hardly got a clue what to say.

". . . Did you bring these here?" she asks.

From his new perspective, Gaara sees how messy his desk looks from the front view, so he adjusts some things, moving picture frames of his siblings to a different corner and separating the 'read' documents from the 'unread' documents. He's not doing this to buy time. Gaara does not buy time. He thinks slowly and steadily, and he does not force words to come to him. He is simply tidying his desk, and in the middle of it, he says, "Yes. They changed a few details, and they wanted me to look over it."

"Oh." Well, now she feels silly.

Hinata almost curls into herself. Gaara turns his attention from his desk, now fully focused on her.

"I could have simply read it there," he says, "but I brought it with me."

Again, Hinata's breath catches, and her eyes struggle to jump between him and the papers in her grasp. "Why?"

"Because it got me thinking." He circles around. When Hinata tries to stand, he lifts a hand, telling her to stay put. "The tower is mostly child-safe. When my sister and Shikamaru became serious, I made it as such. Now, I realize if they ever had a child, it will most likely be born in Konoha." There's something somber in his gaze, but Hinata says nothing about it. "I went into every room, imagining a child inside, wondering what I could do to make it safer for them. In my imagining, I suppose my head mixed things up, and now . . . ."

He doesn't continue, but Hinata sees his vision. Children in the tower, skipping down the stairs and playing the white piano with Chilla. Gaara would entertain them at the dinner table as they waited for food, shaping sand into toucans and snakes and horses. Kankuro would carry them on his shoulders. The maids would snort at toys left about the place.

A place full of children.

It is a wonderful picture; Hinata cannot deny it.

"You want to adopt?" she asks him.

Gaara looks down at the papers in her hands, then at her. "I don't know." Then, quieter: "Maybe."

Before she can stop herself, she asks the question that's been on her mind since finding the papers on his desk. "You wouldn't want to have your own?"

His tongue clicks against the backs of his teeth, tasting her question. His head tips, then droops, and he's staring at her again, expectant.

"Do you?"

"Y-You're —" Hinata's hand presses against her chest. Her heart is roaring. "You're — it sounds like you're asking me if I want to be the mother —"

"Yes."

" — of your children."

"Yes," he confirms.

This is too much to take in. A simple relationship — then, all of the sudden, they're talking about children. Melting, she sinks as far into the chair as physically possible, knees pressing to her torso, hands hiding her face. She's hotter than the air surrounding them, and she does not think she'll be cooling down any time soon.

"Gaara," she says, "this is sort of sudden. I — I didn't even think you'd ever want to have children w-with me."

"Who else would I have them with?"

That's not what I mean! "Children are a serious commitment. If you want to share them with someone, you'd have to want them in your life for a long time."

Though she cannot see them, she can feel him get closer, positioning himself between chair and desk. One hand touches hers, curling around it, lifting it from her face. He does the same with her other hand, and they look at each other. He sees her bewilderment. She sees his determination.

"I want you in my future," he explains. "Always." There's a minute pause, then he speaks again. "Do you . . . not want to be in mine?"

"No!" Wait. "I mean — yes — er . . . I . . . I do want to be in your future."

"But?" he prompts.

Hinata smiles and shakes her head. "There's no but. I want to stay with you."

His smile is gentle and relieved, and he holds both of her hands. "I'm not very romantic," he admits, "but I cherish you, and I want you to stay here — even after Ambassador Ki can return to his rightful position, I want you to stay in Suna. With me."

It's an idea she's mostly committed to. Living away from her clan, her sister, will be hard; being far from her friends, her teammates, her mentors, will sting and leave a lonely hole in her chest that will hurt for a while. But she does not like the idea of being away from Gaara, and Suna, because of him, is becoming her new home. She knows the streets by heart now. She basks in the desert heat and the desert cold. She knows the villagers and the guards and the children at the orphanage — and leaving them, she feels, would be a sin.

So Hinata nods, and when Gaara holds her close, she drops the papers to wrap her arms around them.

Children, perhaps, will be a discussion for another time. But it can wait.

Hinata's patient.

...

Councilman Zaiaku does not look like someone who belongs in Suna. He is pale to the point that his skin does not know the touch of sun, and his hair is long and silver, untouched by the tossed sands in Suna winds. He walks with an air of nobility, proper for a man of his status, and he is one of the only councilmen Gaara allows to visit him beyond scheduled meetings.

Hinata knows him well — or, well, as well as one can when you hardly speak to someone beyond meeting discussions. Gaara trusts him because, despite most of the other council members, Zaiaku is painfully unbiased, and no threat or bribe is able to sway his votes. Sometimes, it would be in Gaara's best interest if Zaiaku was intimidated enough by his position as Kazekage to force him to agree with him on certain laws and regulations they wish to pass or not pass, but it's the councilman's unbiased nature that makes Gaara trust his judgment.

Today, when Hinata is bringing tea to him, Zaiaku leave's Gaara's office before she can enter. His smile is only polite as he nods to her. "I've heard the news," he says. "Adoption is a blessing to Suna, especially if Lord Kazekage is considering it. You both have my support."

Hinata feels heat rise up in her face. "I-I'm sorry, but — oh, well, thank you, firstly. But Gaara and I are waiting some time before we decide on anything."

"Oh?" Halfway through the motions of continuing his way down the hall, Zaiaku pauses. "Until you are no longer Ambassador, I presume."

He doesn't give her the chance to respond, for he's off. Hinata opens the door with her shoulder and places the tray of tea on Gaara's desk.

"You told Councilman Zaiaku about the adoption papers?"

Gaara pauses before sipping his tea. "No. Did he mention something?"

"He just gave us his support."

Snorting, Gaara shakes his head. "Kankuro mentioned something, I suppose."

"Kankuro?"

"He found the papers last night — came banging on my door at midnight."

Hinata's unsure how to feel about such a thing slipping from one mouth to another, but the damage is already done, she supposes. Hinata sits with him, sharing his tea, and stays with him for the rest of the evening. They eat together and walk around the tower to enjoy the sunset, and then he takes her to her room, kisses her palms, and wishes her a quiet goodnight that lingers a bit too long between them. Talk of children and futures is temptation, and her bed feels a bit cold, though she does not know what a shared bed feels like — and yet, the hunger to share one, with him, is strong.

Hinata feels it, and so does Gaara, but he pulls away, and she tumbles into bed and drifts off, thinking, wondering.

That night is when the nightmares start.

The morning is torturous.

She manages to get out of bed. She manages to pack for the three-day journey and eat and dress herself in her mission clothes. She dons her Konoha headband because she is a Konoha shinobi — she doesn't need to be reminded, but others might, so she knots it tightly around her neck until he nearly chokes her, and she's at the spot where she's set to meet Sasuke twenty minutes early.

There, she falls to her knees, she hacks, and she tastes the bile rising in her throat.

She does not want to go back to Suna.

It took her so long to forget it, to pull away from it, to not get lost in her memories; so long, and now, just when she's getting back on her feet, she's going back. Back to those gates, those cliffs — to the man who let her touch Suna, then chopped off her hands and kicked her out to bleed and beg and die.

To return to the very place that did not want her in the first place is a kind of torture only a ninja could face, and Hinata thinks, for a moment, that she'd rather be anything but: a plumber, a fast-food cashier, a farmer — anything. The most mundane of tasks she'd rather do than go back to that place!

How am I going to do this? A wave of nausea hits her, making her sway on all fours. Last night, she busied herself until she collapsed, not giving her time to think, to worry. Exhaustion and anxiety are a nasty mixture, and now she's dealing with the consequences. Can I talk my way out of this?

Hinata feels sick. Shinobi don't tend to get the normal sort if 'sick days' civilians do, but if she's able to convince the Hokage that she has food poisoning and also (somehow) managed to break both legs when on her way over to let him know, maybe she'd be let off the hook.

But then —

That would mean Sasuke would have to go all alone.

And that can't happen.

Hinata has to protect him. Suna is a cage disguised as an oasis. If he's not careful, he'll get trapped like she had — and that's a fate she would not wish on anyone.

Hinata tells herself she has to watch over him, so she picks herself up, washes her face at a nearby fountain, and pretends that everything is fine.

...

Nothing can be hidden from the eyes of an Uchiha, of course. Not that she was trying to hide anything from him. When Hinata pretends, it's to trick herself, to make herself believe that everything is fine, that she's not barely standing due to the dread trembling through her legs — because if she pretends long enough, she'll start to believe it, and things might actually turn out to be fine.

But Sasuke knows. When he meets her by the gate, he knows. It's in his eyes, in the way his hand immediately holds her shoulder, as if he expects her to fall over at any second. He doesn't bombard her with worried exclamations like 'Are you really okay?' and 'This is a bad idea. You're in no condition to go'. They both know they have to get through this mission, and words like that will only make her feel pathetic and pointless. She already feels miserable. Any more, and she might not be able to leave Konoha in one piece.

So Sasuke holds her shoulder, and he looks irritated; at first, she thought she was the cause, but the she watches his left foot swing back to kick into the heel of his right foot in a sort of mundane punishment, and Hinata realizes he's irritated with himself, not her. There's nothing he can do to help her beyond staying at her side.

Little does he know, that's what keeps Hinata standing at present.

Hinata smiles to reassure him — not that she's okay, but she will be, and she's glad that he's here — and they make their way to the gate. The guards shoot Sasuke a sour look, but they were specifically instructed by the Hokage to let him through, so that is all they can do.

...

Sasuke breathes in the forest like he's a free man.

In a way, he is.

This is his first mission outside Konoha walls in almost a year. Hinata does not realize how lucky she is to freely explore the world until she finds him looking at the tall trees like old friends.

Soon, they will have to pick up speed so that they arrive in Suna in a timely manner.

Soon.

But for now, they linger in a stroll, Sasuke staring up at the canopy, sunlight shining down in strange shapes onto his face, and Hinata thinks a free Sasuke is the most beautiful thing in the world.

...

Perhaps a year ago, if given the chance, Sasuke would flee.

He'd go rogue again, cackling about the naive trust the Hokage has in him, and sandwich himself in a little hut thousands of kilometers away from Konoha, where no one will find him.

But Sasuke is adamant to stay by her side.

When they take a small break so Hinata can soak her feet in a creek, he looms over her like a protector, a bodyguard, watching the line of trees. She takes out some jerky to share with him, and he chews slowly, savoring.

At some point in time, his hand pushes her hair away so it hangs over her shoulder, and he works on undoing the knot of her headband. Hinata nearly jumps out of her skin, grabbing his hand before he does anything more.

"Wh-What are you doing?"

He says, simply, "Loosening the knot. It's too tight on you."

Her hands do not release his. "I'm a Konoha nin," she says. "I need it."

The idea of walking through Suna without her headband scares her. Maybe Sasuke senses that fear, or maybe it's obvious by the slight tremble in her voice, but he does not give up either way. "I'll loosen it only a bit — just so it doesn't choke you. Only a little."

Forcing her worries into her gut, Hinata lets him do so, and it does give her some relief. When he's done, he sits next to her, legs curled back to prevent his pant legs from getting drenched.

"Tell me when you're done," he says, "and I'll be ready."

They're wasting time here, at this creek.

But he does not rush her, so Hinata stays a few minutes more to wash her anxieties away before getting up, shaking the water off her ankles, and continuing forward.

...

He gets closer and closer to her every night.

The first night, they share a tent, and he's just a whisper against her back, allowing her room to breathe and fidget.

The second night, his arm is around her, idle and gentle, a reminder that he's there.

But on the third night, he squeezes her against him, and his hand is in her hair, and he does not let her go until it's dawn. She sleeps to his heartbeat, steady and brave, and her pulse tries to match it.

It's only when grass turns to sand and the great gate of Suna comes into view does she realize why. Not just because of comfort, or the need to protect her; it's because, in the late moments of night, nightmares stormed through her slumbering self, and he slid against her and rubbed her back until she calmed, and in the mornings, she'd forget them entirely, and he wouldn't say a word.

Hinata knows this now because, when standing face-to-face with the towering, giant gate, all those damn nightmares and memories flood into her. Her hands would pound against the metal, fingers numb, palms bleeding, knuckles white — she'd pound and scream and throw herself into it, but no one would let her in. It stayed shut. It forgot her.

Suna forgot her.

Gaara left her.

Will it open now? she wonders. This could all be a nasty prank: a fake mission to bring her back to Suna, only for the doors to still remain shut no matter how she begs or cries.

Lord Gai wouldn't do that to her.

But . . .

"Well, look at that." The main guard, a man she does not recognize, grins at both of them before whistling to the guards at the top of the wall. "I thought they were shittin' me, but the devil Uchiha is actually here!"

Calls of wonder and surprise sound from above. Sasuke is perfectly deadpan.

"And we all know who you are." Their attention turns to her. "Hyuuga Hinata — no longer Ambassador Hinata, eh?"

The whine of cranks and turning gears slinks through the air as the guards above work on pulling back the great doors for them. Hinata wishes they'd move a little faster. The sun is unbearable.

"I hear Ambassador Ki is doing well," she murmurs. She doesn't know why. She doesn't want to talk, but the fear of coming off rude overwhelms her own wishes. "He's better fit for the position, after all."

"Havin' hell of a time — with the riots 'nd all." The guard scratches at his beard. "I'll be loyal to Lord Kazekage 'til the day I die, but some of these people — younger kids, easily brainwashed — they don't get it. They hear a bad rumor and run with it. Crazy shit."

She forces a smile and nods and pretends she's not counting the seconds. "What rumors have been spreading, exactly?"

"Hell — not even believable ones!" Despite the terrible situation, the guard grins. "Shit about how Lord Gaara has betrayed his people. Apparently, he's grown tired of Suna and is plannin' to throw his title to some lowly sap before hightailing the fuck outta here. It's as if they're expectin' the next Rasa or somethin', so now all those damn idiots are trying to get their own guy into office before he supposedly appoints someone awful."

Gaara . . . leaving Suna?

That's impossible.

Gaara cannot leave Suna. Of all the things Hinata knows true, even after the betrayal, she's sure that he'd never, ever leave Suna — especially in the hands of someone less capable. "Wh-What reason would he even have to leave?"

"See, and that's the most unrealistic part." The guard leans in, as if to share a secret. The doors are beginning to slide back, and the ground rumbles. "They say he's found himself a lady — someone he's willing to abandon Suna for."

A . . .

A —

"That can't —"

The guard throws his head back, laughing. "Right? If it were rumors about Kankuro, maybe. But Lord Gaara?" There is a glint to his eye, and he gives her shoulder a playful push. "So? Is it you? Are you sneakin' in to help our great Kazekage leave —"

Nothing more can be said.

The painful knife of hurt cannot even fully sink into her chest.

Fire shoots into the sky, warming up the side of her face, and the guard jumps back, gaping. When she turns, there is steam coming from Sasuke's mouth, and his mangekyo spins and glows.

"What the hell!?" the guard hollers.

"My bad," Sasuke drones. "Had something stuck in my throat."

Playful mood ruined, the guard yells for the guys above to hurry it up, then falls into mutterings about how devils should not be allowed into Suna.

Sasuke takes a small step closer, and Hinata watches the doors slide open.

...

When they enter, Hinata hesitates.

"I . . . don't remember where to go," she admits.

Usually, the front guard helps with traversing Suna, but Sasuke's ball of fire has crossed off that option.

They both look off into Suna. Sasuke finds the vague outline of Kazekage Tower, but Hinata —

She finds the cliffs.

The ones to the east are completely carved, the faces of homes dotted about them, paths snaking through. Water fixtures have been added, and plants add a bit of color, and Suna is beginning to look more like an oasis.

Hinata doesn't have the stomach to look too long.

She sees herself up in those cliffs, byakugan scanning the grounds, hands pressed into the hard, golden rock.

A little more than a year ago, her dream had been to look out the Kazekage office's windows and watch Suna turn into something new, something more.

What a far away dream that is.

Now, she just hopes to survive long enough to leave this place.

...

They have to take the backway entrance. The front of the tower is almost entirely filled with protestors, and Hinata doubts they'd be very pleased to see her and Sasuke, the very people assigned to deal with them. She remembers a backway, though she has a terrible time recalling where to find it. It's thanks to the gleam of the evening sun shining upon a glass door that they manage to get inside, safely and unspotted.

The tower . . .

It's how it always is.

Hinata knows that much.

But, when she walks through the halls with Sasuke, trying to find the main entrance — when they wander from room to room, looking down halls and around corners — through it all, up and down stairs, past the kitchen, Hinata can only describe the tower in one way.

Kid-safe.

"Hinata?"

Kankuro.

Her eyes turn to Sasuke first, and he does the same and watches every unknown thought and emotion pass through her face. Then, slowly, she turns and finds Kankuro approaching them. His pace is slow, then picks up, then slows again. He looks like he's debating on whether or not to shake her or hug her, so he settles with crossing his arms and shifting from one leg to the other.

"You made it," he says, in a professional manner. Not like a friend . . . or whatever he used to be. Not like someone who knows her, who stayed up late in the night with her. "Temari and I were wondering how you both would get through the crowd. Heh. Figures you took the backway."

She doesn't know what to say, and Sasuke's deadly silent. Kankuro shifts some more, then rolls his shoulder back, gesturing for them to follow. He takes them to the main entrance, where the main stairway leads up to the Kazekage's office. Hinata's gaze remains on the lower floor.

"You just missed dinner," he says, "but if you're hungry, I can get the chefs to make something."

"We're fine," she manages to say.

Kankuro stares, as if her voice is different or alien. He rubs his neck and squints at nothing in particular, then nods.

"It's late," he murmurs. "We have two rooms ready for —"

"One room."

They both turn to Sasuke. Kankuro jams his finger into his ear, cleaning it out, as if expecting he misheard something. "What?"

"One room," Sasuke says. "We'll be sharing a room."

"Sharing a —" Kankuro shoots her an accusatory look, and Hinata tries to square her shoulders, to look mean and unafraid at his judgment. His peer melts into something foggy, then Kankuro turns on his heels. "One room. Sure. I'll lead the way."

Sasuke follows him first, not even sparing a look at anything else. He moves with confidence and ease, and Hinata wishes he'd share some of it with her.

She follows his back, but there's a slink of something against the floorboards, and Hinata looks back just in time to see a flash of white robes disappear behind an office door.

Oh.

That's why he said such a thing.

...

The bags they hauled with them for their mission are properly dropped on the floor, freeing their backs and shoulders of their weight. The room is similar to the one she used to have, but not the exact same. There's a mirror in the bathroom. The kitchen has stainless steel appliances.

Kankuro leaves with an unsure goodbye and a lingering glance her way, but even with him gone, Hinata doesn't feel like she can breathe.

This is it.

She's here, back in Suna.

They . . . actually let her back in.

A part of her wishes they hadn't. A part of her is glad they did. Both sides fight with each other, and she feels dizzy, so she sets up the futon and lies down. Sasuke unpacks a bit, then sits next to her.

"Change," he says. "Then you can sleep."

Her limbs hurt, but she does as she's told, peeling off her mission clothes and changing into something to sleep in. Sasuke prepares her toothbrush with the right amount of toothpaste, and they brush, wipe their mouths, and turn off the lights so that they're bathed in darkness. Hinata slides back into bed, and he looms next to her, brushing her bangs out of her face.

"I'm tired," she mumbles, "but I don't think I can sleep."

"That's fine."

Her eyes squeeze shut, but the familiarity of the futon against the floor scares her, so she opens them again. "We're actually here."

At that, Sasuke moves so that he's lying next to her.

"We're . . . sharing a room," she says. "You told Kankuro we're sharing a room."

"Saves me the trouble of sneaking in."

She tries to laugh, but it won't come out. "It's because Gaara was there, wasn't he?"

Sasuke's silence is confirmation, and Hinata's not sure what to feel. The trek between Suna and Konoha is not a horrible one, but all her worries and nightmare-fueled nights have drained her, and she doubts she'll get much sleep here. But Sasuke patiently pulls his arm around her, and she focuses on his warmth, on the hints of pine lingering on his shirt.

Nights will not be easy in Suna.

But Sasuke likes the challenge, and Hinata thinks if anyone can make all of this something close to okay, he can.