Hi!

Tw for some violence in the beginning of the chap.

Also, thanks for the reviews! ¡Gracias por los comentarios!

There's probably many typos of all kinds.

Chapter 4

She wakes frequently—but not fully—during her delirium.

No coherence beyond snippets of conversation or fleeting hands across her body pierce through the thick fog surrounding her.

"She's burning up a fever," says a woman's voice.

"Is the child still alive?" Asks the gentle-voiced man.

A cold metal moves across her naked belly.

"Yes, I can hear a heartbeat. I was afraid the fetus had died within her and her body was treating it as an infection, but the child's heartbeat is strong. Quickly, Mirio, get me rags and cool water. We need to bring her fever down as soon as possible or they might both lose their lives."

Sakura slips away, away, away, again.

…

The edges are blurry, the scene.

Not real, not real, some far off corner of her void of a mind sing-songs at her, but she's stuck with terror nonetheless.

Sai doesn't make a sound as his head is forced back sharply.

Sakura wants to scream, run to him and help even though blood is a deluge from between her legs, calamity pouring from her.

She's moving through molasses. Too slow.

Danzo tugs viciously across his neck.

And his life pours from the brutal wound.

...

She comes to again on her side, torso bare and uncovered. A repetitive motion pierces through the fog. With the motion comes cool wetness across her body. The movements stray towards her back when the motions abruptly stop.

"Oh, dear," whispers the same voice of the woman Sakura heard, she's not sure how long ago. Maybe days?

The woman's voice is horrified. "What have they done to you?" Her hand brushes slowly against the many, pink, puckered scars across her back. They have healed since Danzo inflicted the lashes on her, but the scar tissue has not yet fully formed and decreased in swelling. By the time she had escaped, the scars had already set in order for Sakura to try to heal them fully or do much beyond sealing them completely. Not that that had been her first priority anyway.

The woman continues her gentle brushing as Sakura resists, but eventually falls into darkness again.

…

They try to give her water, but she can barely manage to swallow through a swollen throat.

...

She wakes again in fits and starts.

She lost count of how many times she's done this now.

This time though, she has awoken for a reason: someone is whispering harshly in her ear.

"Listen to me, girl," growls that same woman, "I know you can hear me right now, so you listen to me. I know you are fighting to stay alive. I know you are trying harder than you have ever tried before because of that child you carry within you. But you need to fight harder. You are going to die, your child is going to die, if you do not fight harder. Fight. Resist. The scars on your back tell me that you have survived worse than this with your child. I can only do so much. You can survive this too."

Her eyelids feel like someone hung Rock Lee's megaton weights on them as they try to flutter open. Sakura manages to crack them open a centimeter. Her bones ache, but her body feels featherlight at the same time. A blurry, middle-aged woman crouches before her. Sakura can't focus on her features. The woman seems very far away at the moment, as if she's looking at her through a tunnel.

"There you are," she says, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead. "What's your name, girl?"

"Sakura," she sighs, trying not to close her eyes. She doesn't have the wherewithal to lie about her name—it's all she can do to keep her eyes from closing.

"Sakura, try to drink some water while you're awake. We haven't been able to give you much." She feels the damp edge of a ladle against her chapped lips before cool water slides down her throat. Some drops spill out the sides of her mouth, but she finishes most of it.

A soothing hand brushes against her forehead before she slips under again.

…

"You shouldn't go yet," he says, silver hair ruffling in the light breeze beside the large tree he sits near. He's not even looking at her, which is kind of annoying.

"What are you talking about?" Sakura grouses. "I'm here, right beside you."

Surroundings pulsate, deconstructing gently around her. She can't get a grasp on his face, he seems to be shifting.

He sighs sadly. "There's a lot left for you to experience. To be. Just live, okay?"

"Let me see you," Sakura whispers in terror. He's slipping.

"I'm not the one slipping, my sweet Sakura," he responds sadly. "Come and find me."

She reaches for him and he finally turns to look at her with clear, oh so familiar eyes.

They are the last thing to disappear.

…

Sakura dreams of Kakashi during her delirium. She's been having so many dreams of him lately. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she is carrying his literal child.

She has never actually brought into fruition, not even in her own thoughts, that exact phrase yet. His child.

Kakashi's baby. Which they had made. Together.

With her mind and thoughts in a fever haze, though, the thought is much easier to think. At least she doesn't try to reject it at even the slightest hint of the confusing fact.

This half-dream, as she drifts off to it, is random and keeps its normality in the form of it playing out how the memory had actually happened…

Her and Kakashi's positions are reversed. He is currently in the hospital bed, fractured and bruised, his light fever having gone by morning.

Sakura has healed him as much as she could up till that moment. She is already planning to keep him there for a few days before letting him go. A few days would be a lot for the ninja ranked number one in hospital evasion, but tough. She already has restraints at the ready.

Though…

She gazes at his plastered limbs. He probably won't even be able to move properly for some weeks anyway.

Her breath shudders out in a deep gust. He had come close to being paralyzed, but Sakura had gotten to him just in time. And the fever. An infection set in after Sakura had healed his injuries past the point of stability. She can't do anything about the fever and infection besides pump his body with antibiotics and keep an intravenous drip constant.

He has fought very hard to live during the last few hours. He fought like a man that has something very important yet to do.

Sakura sits beside him the entire time, singing soft lullabies and recounting amusing travels they had gone on together, even though she is exhausted.

She holds his hand even now, waiting anxiously for him to open his eyes. She will not go home and sleep until he does.

She studies his uncovered face for the hundredth time, glad that this was not the first time she has seen him unmasked; she would have been disappointed if these had been the conditions under which she had finally seen what he looks like under his ever-present mask. Sakura had been sure to put up a privacy screen between Kakashi's bed and the door for this very reason. Only Tsunade has viewing privileges as well.

In fact, Tsunade-shisou has just been in to check on him and she assured Sakura that she has done everything possible and that she just needed to be more patient because she is only going to end up working herself into—

Kakashi's eyes flutter open, bringing her anxious thoughts to a halt. She sighs in relief as familiar clear gray eyes meet hers. The sunflower shape around his pupil contracts as he adjusts his sight to the mid morning light.

"How are you feeling?" Asks Sakura softly. She subtly observes his vitals from the machine he is hooked up to while still holding his hand. They seem normal. He gives her hand a light squeeze.

"Peachy," Kakashi rasps through a dry throat. Sakura releases his hand and hurries to give him a glass of water. She helps him into a seating position since he can't move yet, and brings the glass to his lips.

"Slowly, please," instructs Sakura as she tips the glass. His lips are chapped. She makes a mental note to bring him some beeswax.

She allows him to get his fill before setting the glass down beside him. She starts to fuss around him, as was her usual bedside manner, and bends over him, fluffing his pillow before sitting back down, staring at him with a crease between her brows.

Kakashi notices, wearily following her movements. "I really am fine. Watch, I'll be out of here in a couple hours at most."

"Don't even try it!" Sakura scowls. "You're going to stay here for at least five days."

Kakashi pats her hand lightly. "We'll see."

"I—" starts Sakura angrily, before Kakashi falls into a coughing fit. She hurries to place a glowing hand on his abdomen to settle his hacking even though she can barely muster enough chakra. Tsunade would yell at her if she were here.

Kakashi eventually settles down, but Sakura can't stop fussing over him. She thinks he secretly enjoys it. He looks at her with a wide, pitiful expression.

Sakura was not in a joking mood. She had been, after all, one of the first people to see him when his team had first carried him in. All that blood.

Her eyes don't meet his. She stares hard at the white sheets covering his body, not wanting to look directly at his bruised face. "It was very uncertain for a few hours, Kakashi," she breathes, in a low voice. "I was scared."

She is allowed to be scared in front of him, unlike with almost every other person in her life. It's okay to be scared in front of Kakashi because he has never once condemned or humiliated her for the feeling. Not when she was younger, not even now. Even though their profession looks down on such a weakness, he never once told her that her feelings were wrong. He had always guided through her fear and she had learned to grow from it though she had not always realized his intentions at the time: one constant memory being the horrible moment she had thought Naruto and Sasuke were going to kill each other on that roof, and he had intervened, stopping to reassure her before he left. It was not a weakness to fear for the life of someone she loved.

His hand finds hers again and he gives her another squeeze. The action is unusual for him and shows how perceptive Kakashi is; Kakashi was never one to initiate physical contact with anyone, so she must really be showing a whole lot on her face at the moment. "I knew I wasn't going to die." Kakashi states simply.

A teasing expression lights his face. She suppresses a sigh and an eye roll—ah, there he is, same familiar Kakashi. She knows he cares for her, but that realization had been a long journey due to his seemingly listless nature and evasion of anything that had to do with emotions.

"And why is that?" Sakura plays along.

"Because before I left for my mission, I promised to let you give me one of those deep-tissue massages that Naruto is always raving about. There was no way I was going to die, you see? I wouldn't let myself after making you a promise like that. Even as I was crawling through my own blood I thought, 'Not today. Not before Sakura gets to me'."

Sakura, despite herself, releases a burst of laughter. "You'll just have to promise me something everytime you go on a mission, then."

Kakashi simply nods. "Sure."

She does release a sigh now, but not because of his behavior, easing her hand out of his. "I have to go." She had promised Tsunade that she would inform her of when Kakashi was conscious. Probably so she could come in here and rip him a new one for his carelessness on the mission. She rubs a hand through her hair, but then abruptly moves that same hand to point a stern finger at Kakashi. "But I'll be back," she barks, "and if I don't find you here, I'll tell Tsunade to demote you to D-rank missions for a month! So behave!"

Kakashi offers her a steady salute with a bandaged hand. "Yes, Sakura-Chan...can you wear that blue blouse next time you come? The one with ruffles?"

Sakura looks at him quizzically at the strange request. "Why?"

"For the next time you fluff my pillows," he says with a small, knowing grin.

Still puzzled, Sakura contemplates, brows ceased in concentration before she remembers that that ruffled blouse he seems so fond of has a particularly low neckline.

He sees it on her face when she realizes why he made such a request. He looks at her with a slight pout. "I almost died," he reminds her.

"I swear, you can be such a pain in the ass sometimes," Sakura says, shaking her head. "But I'll see what I can do." Had it been any other man, she would never allow this type of teasing, not even Naruto. Her and Kakashi's dynamics had changed when they had started taking missions together again. No longer was she the little girl, shy and hesitant—now she found odd fulfillment in doing the exact opposite of what people expected of her.

Kakashi recognized the companion and equal in her. She had gotten glimpses at the man Kakashi was when he was not trying to teach, but converse with her instead, peer-to-peer and was surprisingly overjoyed to find that befriending Kakashi as an equal had been as easy as breathing.

Sakura doesn't mind the teasing she has realized throughout the years, but enjoys the banter. It gives her an odd thrill every time he manages to actually make her blush. Kakashi often tries to get a rise out of her, pushing her buttons until she blushes from his side comments that hold innuendo. Testing her to see how far she would let him go, but backtracking once things were tinged with a hint of seriousness.

Sighing in exasperation, she jumps up. Grinning widely, she pecks him lightly on the forehead and smooths back his unruly silver hair. She skips from the room before seeing the sly smirk on his face.

The dream starts slipping from her then. Dripping away in droplets of fading memory into the depths of her mind until she is no one and nothing again.

…

That same soothing voice breaks through her haze as she awakes, more alert. Wooden paneling meets her gaze as her eyes crack open, but that hardly registers.

Sakura recognizes, instead, that he is telling her a story, Mirio. There's dragons in the fantastical tale.

Her body sighs and she finally settles into a dreamless, restful sleep.

…

The next time she wakes, Sakura is blissfully alert. Alert, but extremely exhausted.

She realizes, as she examines her aching body, that dying isn't awful...it's coming back that really blows.

She knows her fever has broken and immediately moves a hand down to hover over her belly.

"You're child's fine," says a steady voice. "And your fever's finally broken."

Sakura checks herself anyway and finds her baby's heartbeat, strong and healthy, as she searches the strange room for the voice. The room itself is pretty small: little else but hardwood floor and wooden paneling, and the twin mattress she is currently laying on. There's a small desk shoved in the corner with a west facing window, letting in late afternoon light, and a chair in front of the desk which is occupied by a middle aged woman with black hair streaked with grey, and stern brown eyes. She is short, but tough. Looking at her ridiculously reminds Sakura of a boulder.

Before she gets into questions, Sakura assesses the rest of her body. She finds herself much unchanged from what she thinks is a few days ago. The stocky woman watches her with an observant gaze all the while.

"Who are you?" Sakura finally asks. She can barely hold her head up.

"Name's Hanako," replies the woman. She stands from her seat and helps prop Sakura up in a more comfortable position. Sakura remembers those gentle hands, one of the only things that broke through her haze.

She mumbles a quick 'thank you'. "Where am I?"

"In my house. My son found you passed out and half-dead on the street three days ago and up 'till then you've been burning with fever."

Sakura closes her eyes, remembering the gentle voice. "Yes, Mirio, wasn't it?"

"Mm," Hanako affirms.

"He saved us," Sakura states, opening her eyes to meet Hanako's again. "And you did too. Thank you, I don't even know how to—" Sakura shudders out a breath, emotion overcoming her. Her breaths come out more agitated as she fights tears. Again, she had almost lost her baby.

"Easy now, girl," Hanako reprimands. "Don't get in a bother over that. Mirio's a kind soul, he would have done that for anyone who was in your situation."

"But you helped me too," Sakura sniffles, blinking rapidly to dismiss the tears. "Why?" Of course she was suspicious. Grateful, but suspicious. Do they somehow know of her, that she's wanted by Danzo?

If they did though, why had they nursed her to health, rather than just turn her in right away?

Has she actually stumbled upon something good after all her—their—suffering?

"Why?" Scoffs Hanako. "You're a four to five month pregnant woman who was dying on the street. Wouldn't anyone help? Although, seeing those scars on your back, I can understand why you might be somewhat cynical towards life. Awful shame, really, to inflict that on someone, let alone someone carrying another life," Hanako mumbles, brows furrowing at a distant memory. "Who did that to you, anyhow?"

Sakura shakes her head. "I don't want to think about it now, please." She can't tell this woman that she is a fugitive from her village, having escaped a dictator who wanted her dead and still wants her dead. Better to feign distress at the very thought.

"Alright," Hanako concedes, eyeing her warily. "But maybe one day you'll tell me your story before you came to be here."

Sakura nods, noncommittal, already planning to leave this place once she has the strength. It was best to keep moving.

"Now," Hanako claps her hands, standing again, "you must be hungry. And the baby too. We couldn't give you much else but water and even that was hard for you to swallow."

Sakura suddenly realizes that she's right. She's absolutely ravenous.

Hanako brings over a bowl that had been resting on the desk next to her. "Easy now, Sakura. It's only broth and potatoes for now. From the looks of your body, you've been malnourished for some time. Not what the baby needs, or you. But we have to ease you back into eating, alright?"

Sakura nods, she can't bring her arms up to hold the bowl, so Hanako feeds her slowly and patiently. The simple beef broth and starchy potatoes are the most wonderful thing she's ever tasted.

Sakura's cheeks are wet. She can't help it.

"I can't pay you," she says, voice wobbling with emotion.

"Oh, you don't say?" Hanako replies, brown eyes widening with obvious sarcasm. "I must have misunderstood why you had been sleeping on a filthy street." She softens her voice. "Don't worry, girl. Just eat."

Sakura gladly obeys.

…

Sakura sleeps for another fourteen hours after Hanako helps her eat. She awakes late morning the next day to an empty room.

And she's starving.

Hanako might have been wrong; she doesn't think she needs any kind of soft reintroduction into stuffing her face again. She can literally eat a whole four course meal right now.

Just as she's contemplating whether she has enough energy now to get up to hunt for sustenance, there's a soft knock on the door.

Before she can say a word, the door slowly opens as if the person on the other side doesn't want to risk waking her up in case she's sleeping. A man pops his head in, looking in her direction and meets her eyes.

Blue, blue eyes. This must be Mirio.

Almost involuntarily, a wide smile bursts across Sakura's face. This was the man who had saved their lives.

Mirio mirrors her smile, somewhat more shyly. He makes his way into the room and Sakura almost crows with joy at what he carries: a bowl! With a huge piece of bread sticking out the top!

"We didn't know if you were awake yet, but mother said I should come and check because you were probably really hungry," he says with the same gentle voice that had initially broken through her fogginess three days ago. He exuded steady serenity.

"I am. Hungry, that is. Thank you," Sakura remarks, still studying her savior. He looks to be in his late twenties, all height and strong muscles. Just as she remembers, his eyes are the same color as Naruto's. The resemblance stops there, though. While his hair is blonde as well, it is a much darker shade than Naruto's and Mirio's face is broader too.

Sakura makes these observations as Mirio walks to her. He hands her the bowl and Sakura gladly accepts it with another "thank you". She's ecstatic when she finds she has enough strength to actually hold the bowl on her own and even more overjoyed when she finds sweet oatmeal with strawberries is the contents of the bowl.

The room falls into silence again, save for the sounds of Sakura scarfing down her food. She doesn't even care that Mirio's there watching her savage her way through the meal. She repeatedly dips the hearty bread, filled with a variety of nuts, into the thick maple oatmeal, taking enormous bites.

When she's finished, she tries not to look too forlornly at her empty bowl, but apparently fails miserably because Mirio asks, "Would you like some more?"

Sakura looks down, sheepish. But she's not going to lie. "Yes, please," she replies bashfully.

"Okay," she can hear the amusement in his voice, though not at her expense, "I'll be right back."

When he returns, the bowl is even more full than it was the first time. Another thick slice of buttered bread is in the bowl again.

She eats this bowl more slowly allowing for poor Mirio to talk to her.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Mirio says, rubbing his hands self-consciously on the brown fabric of his trousers. He seems as if he doesn't really know what to say to her, so he sticks to the obvious facts.

"All thanks to you and your mother. I don't like to think where we'd be if you hadn't stopped to help us. I can't thank you enough, Mirio-san. For my life and my child's."

Mirio avoids her gaze, obviously uncomfortable with her praise, and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "Please, just call me Mirio, Sakura-san. And I am just happy that I could help you and your child. Really, it was nothing."

Oh, Mirio, this is the farthest from nothing you can get. She won't bring up his kindness again just yet, though. Not when he is so obviously uncomfortable with praise.

"Well, then you must call me Sakura then, alright?" Sakura requests, then smiles slightly at him again. "But you must let me thank you for one thing, Mirio." Sakura continues. "The stories you told me while I was sick. They helped me sleep better."

"Oh, you remember that?" Mirio asks, with a light chuckle.

"The one that had dragons was my favorite. You must read it to me again, because I missed parts while sleeping."

"Of course," Mirio grins, a true unobscured grin. "The one with dragons is my favorite too."

And it is as simple as that, their friendship. Really, it is impossible to not get along with such an amiable man.

…

A/N: Gracias por leer el capítulo—Thanks for reading :)