"You forgot."

"No."

"You did. Admit it."

"No," repeated Itachi.

From outside the 'potting shed' turned carpentry shed on Sakura's clanstead property, Madara paused and listened to Itachi and Sasuke's conversation. They were never so unguarded around him.

"The night of the party, it completely bypassed you that the Sakura I was talking about was Sakura from my team. Admit it. You thought I was speaking about someone else."

"... Hn. Perhaps I was more distracted than ususal."

"I knew it."

Madara heard Itachi sigh.

"She'd be devastated to know you forgot her so easily."

To Madara's surprise, Itachi chuckled. "Never forgotten."

Sasuke's tone changed, then, when he added more quietly, "She would have said yes."

"Hn."

"Pass me that box of nails. Hn. Thanks." Sasuke moved something heavy, and Madara crept closer, his back against the outside of the reinforced, renovated structure. Sakura had said there was no need to repair this outbuilding, but he had liked the idea of having a workshop. Or 'break'-shop...

Inside, Sasuke pressed his brother further. "You're okay with things as they are, now?"

"... Hn," sighed Itachi. His voice was tired.

"Hn?"

"That time has passed, Sasuke. We each have our responsibilities."

"Hammer? Thanks. Do you really think she and Madara…"

"I do not know. That is for them to decide. I have this side braced."

The building was filled with the sound of hammering as they repaired a cupboard, and Madara, thoughtful, meandered back to the main house.

Interesting.

It was several days later when Sakura returned to the clanstead manor, this time bearing tins of paint, brushes, smocks, drop sheets, rollers, pans and sanding sponges. And her sleeping and overnight bags.

Madara eyed them with mounting interest as he watched her from a third-floor window, bouncing on his toes before thrusting his hands in his pockets and walked down the stairs to meet her.

"'dara? Are you here?"

He met her in the kitchen, and his brows rose slightly at the sight of the groceries she unloaded into the new fridge and freezer. The stove was ancient, immaculate, and took up a good chunk of the corner it sat in, sandwiched by the heavy wooden countertops. Sakura claimed it had never moved and never failed.

"Hn."

"Hey! You didn't reply when I called; I wasn't sure if you were outside with the other two." She turned to smile warmly at him, and it reached her eyes. She was genuinely happy to see him. She toed at a grocery bag to her right. "Brought your favourite."

With a quick glance outside to note Kisame and Itachi's location, Madara joined her at the fridge and passed her the groceries she needed before she reached for them. He ignored the promised treat for a few minutes, choosing instead to lighten her load.

"Thanks," she said with a blush. "How are you doing? I picked up some paint, now that you and Dei and Sasori finished the walls upstairs."

He gave her a soft smile, and slowly reached around her, leaning closer, nuzzling her neck before pinning her to the counter. "When did you fuck Itachi?" he murmured cheerfully. His arms tightened possessively, his fingers creeping closer to the inch of bare skin he knew was exposed from the angle of her body.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "'dara—"

"Sakura."

"Ancient history. Didn't work out. I'm too busy to really… date. With my work schedule, I'm not the best girlfriend material."

His shoulders stiffened and his back straightened.

"Am I a… passing interest? Are you still hung up on him?"

To his growing irritation, she laughed. "I think we buried that relationship but good, trust me. Sasuke would have had my head if it had been serious. Heaven forbid anyone blemish his beloved big brother's sterling reputation." She snorted. "Especially someone like me."

She tilted her head and caught his dark, dark eyes. "You're my patient now, 'dara. I give my time to you. No one, outside of my paying job, mind, is stealing me away from you. Did something happen? You're tense."

He held her bright, shining eyes a moment before easing away from her when she pressed her hands to his chest, a warning.

"All is well," he said.

"Good. Here," she said, handing him a heavy bag containing several cardboard cartons.

"Goldfish crackers!"

Her expression softened as he trotted off to the kitchen table to open a bag.

Another quiet sigh of amusement, and Sakura shook her head, returning to her groceries.

At three forty two that morning, Sakura's cellphone rang.

"Aw. Come on," she groaned, stretching and patting the freshly dusted bed-side table. She had spread her sleeping bag atop the freshly aired mattress when she bed down that night, only several hours earlier. That evening she and Madara had primed the walls of seven rooms from the top floor, and she was exhausted.

"Haruno speaking," she yawned as she answered.

"We have two crews coming in with severe injuries. Airlifted. Due in at oh-six-hundred hours."

Sakura fell back against her pillow, disoriented from lack of sleep. "I put in not to be called this weekend; I'm an hour out of town, at least."

"So I saw. But the other three medics on call aren't answering their pagers or phones. If it was one or two individuals, we could get through it; but we were notified of multiple code blues on two full teams."

Mentally, she wanted to cry; but didn't bother wasting the time.

"It will be close for me to make it in on time. Could you have an escort meet me at the Konoha border? It'll give me clearance to drive a bit more assertively."

"Consider it done. Princess, right?"

"Yep," sighed Sakura. "Also, I'm going to need a lot of coffee, and probably breakfast, if there's time."

"Done."

"See you in an hour and a half. Haruno out."

"Out."

Once more, she was grateful she lived on her own, even while out here at the clanstead. It would be even more difficult to sneak around in the middle of the night, avoiding waking others. Kisame, Itachi and Madara had left when she'd turned in for the night.

She placed a short note on the kitchen counter before she walked out, explaining that she'd been called in to work.

Sakura had driven down the highway, far faster than was strictly safe, for a good quarter hour when a familiar head of midnight spikes poked up from the backseat.

"So, are we headed to the military hospital?"

She screamed and nearly drove into the ditch.

"Did you learn those words in the military? It sounds like the chorus to Trailer Park Boys: The Naval-Offshore Musical," he said, leaning his head forward so his chin rested on her driver's seat.

"What are you doing in my car?!"

"Sitting."

"No, I mean—argh, 'dara, I'm going in to work. In Konoha. I don't have time to take you home. Gods, fuck!"

She hit the steering wheel, hard, before petting it in apology. "Sorry, baby, mommy lost her shit." She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. "Itachi drove you home tonight. I saw him drive you home with him. How did you get back to my place? Oh my god, were you in the house with me?"

"There's a deer over—"

"Damnit!"

She swerved to avoid it, just barely. Not that Princess couldn't have handled it, but Sakura didn't think she could have handled it, at that point.

"Crap, crap, crap, what am I going to do with you… I have no idea how long this is going to take, and you promised you'd stay with someone when we were away from your home, and now I can't do that, and Itachi and Sasuke are going to think I kidnapped you, and—"

"Is that your escort?"

Pulled off to the side in a carpool parking lot, the red, white, and blue lazily flashing lights of her military escort suddenly picked up about a kilometer ahead of them on the highway. One of them flashed their high-beams at her, and she flashed hers back twice in recognition. She slowed to a responsible speed, meanwhile, and swallowed. Some things they were less forgiving about, she'd learned.

"Yes, that's them," she said through her grit teeth.

"Ah. You sound tense." He offered her a bottle of tequila, unscrewing the cap for her. "Would you like a drink to calm your nerves?"

"Put it down. Put it down, and put it away, damnit!" She batted at his proffered hand, her eyes wide and face paler than usual.

They had reached the convoy now, and their flashing lights flooded the inner compartment of Sakura's military truck like a mad circus lightshow.

"Please don't let them have seen, please don't let them have seen," she prayed.

Then the siren went off.

"Do you think they would appreciate some tequila?"

"No," she moaned.

"Hn." He eyed the approaching vehicles. "How about Goldfish crackers?"

"Coffee. Breakfast. You scrub in in Surgical Theater Three in ten minutes."

Sakura nodded as Shizune brought her up to speed, chugging the scalding crap that passed for coffee in their unit as they passed by the nurses' station in the Surgical Ward.

"We have a resident who wants in—"

"No."

"I'll let her know she has to observe someone else."

"Thanks."

"We have about half your usual team able to join you, but the rest are from the night shift."

"As long as they're capable and follow orders."

Shizune nodded. "They've also been reminded you don't like your authority questioned and to mind their manners."

"Good."

Shizune's eyes flickered to Sakura's side, just a step half-behind her.

"May I ask—"

"No," growled Sakura, her teeth clenched.

Hands in his pockets, Madara continued shadowing the women, not saying a word. Occasionally he took a sip of tequila, but for the most part, he was docile.

They encountered their first trial when Sakura entered the pre-surgical theatre to scrub in with several nurses; and Madara followed.

Brow twitching, Sakura turned, calmly, and looked up at Madara.

His face just as calm, he met her gaze.

There passed a silent battle of wills, until Madara pulled a Goldfish cracker from his pocket, and chewed it thoroughly as Sakura's face initially tightened, then relaxed, then surrendered.

"There's a gallery. Through that door, up a small set of stairs. Stay there until I come get you."

He lifted the bottle at his side. "Would you like a—"

Her shoulders slumped. "No, but thank you for the offer. Maybe later." She paused in turning back to the nurses, and looked at him over her shoulder. "Definitely later."

"Hn."

He watched her as she scrubbed her hands, as the nurses dressed her in her surgical attire and snapped on her gloves, and then opened the doors for her; as she stepped through there came a clatter of rushing gurneys, forceful voices, and a direct run-down retelling of what had happened, what was happening, and what had been done in the meantime. Without missing a beat, Sakura hustled to the highest priority candidate and began her own assessment, even as the attendant continued his dialog.

The door was swinging shut when Madara's brow furrowed, and he lifted an arm in goodbye.

"Good—"

It separated them on his last syllable.

"—luck."

Hours.

Hours, and hours, and hours.

Sakura could feel his eyes on her, when she let herself take in anything beyond the immediacy of saving the soldiers' lives, but she didn't have the freedom or opportunity to turn her head away and look at him.

She lost track of the number of men and women she pieced back together, repaired, mended and left for the nurses to suture. She had a job to do, and that was as far as she saw. One. Then another. Then another. Then another.

She had to hand it to the accompanying medical personnel, they had done an excellent job in stabilizing the wounded as neatly and quickly as possible; their notes on the injuries and conditions of each of the wounded were as perfunctual as they could manage, given the time frame. It helped her remain focused on each individual at a time.

A nurse to her left wiped Sakura's brow as Sakura stretched her pale, slender neck, leaning over the current patient as her lined eyes swam a moment and her hearing thinned. With clenched teeth she narrowed her eyes and pressed her toes hard into the soles of her sneakers, flexing and releasing them, flexing and releasing, over and over.

No, no, no, no, no. I have a job to do, she swore viciously to herself, and pushed pushed pushed. After a moment the tide of darkness closing in around the edges of her vision receded, abating at least for another little while. I will remain focused!

Almost there, just a few more to go, she told herself, filling her lungs with a deep breath of energizing, life-sustaining oxygen, and diving back into her patient's chest cavity. Almost there.

So focused was she that she didn't realize Madara had escaped the gallery until much later.

There were only so many times a man could be rebuffed by the medical personnel minding the doors of the surgical theatre before he had to take matters into his own hands, Madara decided as he wandered around. It was mid-morning by now and his stomach gnawed at his insides with hunger.

With a glance left and right, he decided to follow the nurses chit-chattering about their patients as they entered the nearest elevator, a pair of carts between them as they went on their break.

It took only a split-second before the women noticed him, and suddenly he was flooded with attention. Too much attention. They asked him questions, and got too close, and did they have to smother him with their pawing and prodding and—

His skin prickling with irritation, he exited the elevator, eyes narrow and chest heaving lightly as he regained his composure. It had been so long since he had been surrounded by people and had to behave himself, free of drugs mucking up his thoughts and decisions. The urge to Shut Them Up had been strong, but he understood they were a minor irritation, all things considered. he didn't want to upset Sakura.

However his pre-emptory evasion in the elevator had deposited him… in another area he was unfamiliar with. Hm.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone? Are you here to help?"

Turning slowly to look at the new individual, he noticed right away the man had bright green eyes.

Tilting his head, Madara nodded.

"Oh good! A few of our regular orderlies couldn't make it today, and we need help taking these meals to the seniors' long-term care ward. Would you mind? I'll show you the way…"

"You'll need to tie your hair back. Here, I keep extra elastics in my pockets."

With a quick twist, Madara secured his hair in a high ponytail.

Shrugging his hands into his pockets again, Madara followed the man with the green eyes. He liked green eyes.

Soon enough Madara was walking around pushing a cart, occasionally snacking on the covered plates from his many, many trays.

There were many people in this hospital.

The seniors ward, it turned out, was where the veterans stayed. It wasn't so bad, though it was a bit maussade.

"Food? Not hungry," grumped one vet when Madara offered him a tray.

Madara shrugged.

So then Madara offered him the Tequila. The vet's eyes gleamed.

With a nod, the men came to an understanding.

And so it went, until Madara had delivered food to the ones who wanted to eat, and him eating the squandered meals from those who preferred a shot of Tequila. All in all, it left everyone quite satisfied.

The green-eyed man looked pleasantly surprised to see him when he returned his cart, and greeted him with a wide smile. "Finished already? And they're all done! Wow! How did you convince them?"

"Hn." Madara shoved his cart into the trolley-stall and looked around. No more spare lunches, it seemed.

"Whatever you did, it was magic. Would you be interested in coming more often? We could use more of your kind of persuasion around here... Most of our new people complain about how grouchy the vets are, until they warm up to you... You got past Old Man Yoromi without getting stabbed with a spork, too? Nice!"

Getting more bored by the second, Madara nodded and wandered away in search of more entertainment.

"Hey! Hey? Uh, you forgot to sign the volunteer register… Hey, uh, new guy?..."

Madara looked around the elevator lobby. What else would he find here? This was a large building. Hn.

Children.

There were children here.

Fingers curling tighter in his pockets, Madara surveyed the ward through the large picture window. The jeans he wore were Itachi's, a bit loose and they would have been a bit short if it wasn't for the fact that Itachi wore his jeans fairly long. One of Fugaku's belts kept them up, though they sat lower on his waist than he really liked, but he was gaining more weight by the week. All the exercise and manual labour related to the renovations, on top of his regular martial arts practice (and now, yoga and pilates, with Sakura), had helped him regain the muscle mass he lost during his drugged 'incarceration'. His black button-up shirt was a bit taught across his more defined chest, and it didn't pass his notice that he received more than a few second looks from the women he passed. Perhaps it was because his hair was up? Hn. That must be it. He felt the bounce and swish of the ponytail against his back. It was unusual but not unpleasant. Would Sakura like it that way? Hn.

"Are you trying to figure out how to get in?"

A young voice to his left had him looking down, and he was caught in the sparkling jade gaze of the young girl beside him. He did like green eyes, so very much. How nice to find someone else with a pair.

She had lovely dark hair, long and loose, and she rocked on her feet, one her own, the other a prosthetic that began somewhere under her pyjamas. She wore bunny slippers.

"Hn."

Lifting her prosthetic arm she tapped her badge to the scanner and the door whooshed open.

"Security," she explained. "Wanna come play?"

"Hn," he said, following her. There were many children here.

"Normally the helpers wear uniforms. Did you want one? We can ask the nurses."

"Do I need one?"

"You'll fit in if you're wearing a uniform," she said.

"Show me."

She took his hand in her prosthetic one and led him down the corridor through the Children's Ward. "Over here, the nurses keep spare uniforms in here…"

Relax, she typed into her phone as she texted Sasuke. And Itachi. He snuck out back to my place. Then he snuck into my car when I got called in to work. He's fine.

Gods, she could barely keep her eyes open. Sprawled out on the leather couch in the lounge, she yawned wide enough to crack her jaw, and groaned when the phone in her hand buzzed and rang with another call from Itachi. Gods. Like their four hundred messages that morning weren't enough. She'd been in fricking surgery for hours.

"What?" she mumbled, yawning again.

"He's there with you?"

"Mm."

"Beside you?"

"In the gallery."

"Not beside you?"

"No," she said. "I'm just going to put my head down for a minute before I get him and drive back."

"... How much sleep have you had?"

"Enough."

"You're speaking with your eyes closed. I recognize the sound of your voice."

"No I'm not," she argued, forcing her eyes open.

"Stay there, I'll send Sasuke to get you. He's at the base today. I'll meet you at your apartment to collect Madara, and then you can rest quietly."

"No, it's fine. He's fine. I'll bring him back. You work," she yawned again.

"Open your eyes."

Damnit, he knew her too well. "What?"

"I'm going to let you go for a few minutes to get Madara, and then I want you to wait out front. I'll send a car."

"Princess is in the—"

"That vehicle is a death trap and should have been buried, not resurrected with your ridiculous torque wrench collection. No one will touch it. The car will be out front in about forty-five minutes. Have you scrubbed out yet?"

She glanced down at her blood-splattered front. "Not quite."

He sighed. "If I don't hear from the driver that you're in the car within the hour, I'm coming up there myself to collect both of you. And I'll drag Sasuke into it."

"Ugh. Dirty-player Uchihas," she muttered, and ignored his light huff.

"One hour."

Sakura sighed and they ended the call.

She let her head drop back down again for a second before calling for one of the passing nurses.

"Mari?"

"Yes, Sakura?" She and Mari had worked together for years.

"Do you remember the tall, dark-haired man I came in with?"

"Yes, he went to the gallery, as you instructed."

And Itachi thought she couldn't handle Madara? Hah. She'd show him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but could you please ask him to join me here?"

"He left several hours ago."

"... He what?"

"The security personnel at the doors of the surgical theatre wouldn't let him in when he came to bring you a snack; something about crackers…" Mari's words faded into the background for Sakura as her body thrummed with adrenaline.

"Which way did he go?" asked Sakura as she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. Damnit, she needed a second breakfast, or lunch. And more coffee. And ten solid hours of uninterrupted sleep. And the tractor beam from the USS Enterprise, a trace on Madara... And a large burlap sack.

"He went towards the elevators."

"Up or down?"

"... we don't know…"

Taking a deep breath, Sakura thanked her and pressed the button for the top floor. She would work her way down. Through all fifteen floors, if needed.

Luckily, it only took her four floors before she stumbled, still covered in blood, into the Children's Ward and found him.

He was sitting cross-legged on a carpet in the play centre, several children around him. And on his shoulders. And one across his lap. Constructing something out of the vast supply of Tinkertoys the children had amassed. He was wearing nursing scrubs. His hair was tied up in a perky ponytail that… Hmmm. Sakura let her eyes rest on it appreciatively for a moment. It was a good look for him.

"'dara?"

It took her a moment to realize she'd spoken aloud, barely above a whisper.

Through the partition glass, he continued his construction project, sometimes passing a piece to a child.

She checked her phone. They had ten minutes to meet the driver out front, if they ran the whole way.

But…

A soft smile on his face, Madara turned to a little girl who was missing both an arm and a leg, and he lifted what he'd been working on and with some medical straps, attached it to her back.

A set of Tinkertoy wings.

Jaw slowly falling open as her breath caught in her throat, Sakura could only watch as he showed her how to pull one strap, then the other, then both combined, to make the wings 'flap' (raise and lower). Then he directed her to a mirror on the far side of the room so she could look at them herself.

Letting out a tired sigh, Sakura touched her badge to the scanner to let herself in.

"...Madara, time to go."

A harried-looking Itachi met them at the hired car, in front of the security check-point by the hospital's main entrance. He pulled his hand from his much-run-through hair when he caught sight of her, and strode to meet her, taking her in at arm's length and giving her a once-over. His eyes strayed to the blood all over her front and stayed there. His grip on her biceps tightened.

She knew what was coming and lifted a hand to calm him. "Surgery."

"I heard."

She patted his fingers. "I'm okay."

His long fingers shifted and caught hers, his eyes still on her blood-covered torso. "Hn."

"And Madara behaved himself. He's been volunteering."

Itachi's eyes shot to his relative.

Madara shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Free food."

"Apparently he's popular with children and old people."

"How did you manage that while Sakura was busy conducting surgeries?"

Madara's expression turned smug. "Easily."

"Specifics," bit out Itachi, taking a step forward, until Sakura's body decided to swoon, that is.

Madara was there in an instant, and plucked her up from Itachi's arms.

"Goddess needs to sleep," he said, his eyes never straying from her face. "She lives nearby?"

"Hn," said Itachi, speaking over Sakura's yawning reprisals.

She curled into Madara's strong, warm arms. "'m fine, just need five minutes to rest and I can drive us back." She tucked her head into the crook of his elbow.

She promptly began to snore.

Itachi's brows pinched and drew down, his shoulders relaxing as he watched her mouth hang open, drooling on Madara's elbow.

"Come," he said, shaking his head lightly and holding the door open for Madara to carry Sakura to the car.

Madara eyed Itachi's mobile phone as it vibrated for the sixth time since they had entered the limousine. Itachi reached into his pocket and turned off the sound entirely.

Sakura didn't move even when they reached her apartment.

"Stay here," ordered Itachi. He reached into the car from the far side and pulled Sakura into his arms again. Madara exited the limo and followed them in, ignoring the pulse fluttering wickedly in

Itachi's throat; the only hint the man was anything but placid.

Itachi let himself and Sakura into Sakura's apartment with his old key, his lips pressing together when Madara shadowed his moves and closed the door behind him, his dark, intelligent eyes taking in the small, cozy dwelling on the seventh floor of her twenty-storey building. Slipping off his shoes, Itachi proceeded to carry Sakura into her bedroom while Madara observed his every movement.

Itachi wasn't one to roll his eyes, but he wondered if he would have been able to stifle the urge in that moment, when he realized Sakura still needed to get cleaned up. He couldn't put her to sleep in bed as she was, covered in blood and fluids and who only knew what else. Swallowing a sigh when he felt the light rumble of his mobile pressing against his pocket again, he made his way to Sakura's ensuite washroom and ran her a bath. Resting Sakura across his lap as he sat on the edge of the tub, he glared at Madara when the latter came to lean against the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, again taking in every inch of the small, royal-blue-and-cream white tiled room.

"Out," said Itachi, glaring at Madara.

Madara just looked at him, before he smirked. "You first," he replied.

"You haven't earned that much of her trust."

"And you threw it away," said Madara, smiling at Itachi and crossing his arms in front of him. "Jealousy suits you."

Itachi narrowed his eyes.

"Shall we call Sasuke and get his opinion on the matter?"

"Leave him out of this."

"I'm sure he'd be open to the idea."

Itachi turned his attention back to Sakura, and began stripping the outer layer of her filthy clothes from her; sneakers, socks, her hair elastics and clips. Her outer shirt and external scrubs.

"She wouldn't want you to see her like this."

Madara chuckled. "She didn't have a problem with taking me to her bed the night of the party."

Itachi's brow furrowed in disgust as his hands stilled, unwilling to bare any more of Sakura's privacy to Madara—to an extent.

"Knowing Sakura as well as you do, now," began Itachi, his voice silky. "What do you think happened, what do you think she did to you, while you were vomiting and incapacitated and unconscious in her bed that night? After she'd just finished several hours volunteering and assisting at another Christmas party. And pulling a shift at work, where she is responsible for the well-being of others and prioritizes their care above her own.

"What do you think happened that night, Madara?"

His expression was placid and confident. "I rocked her world."

It was Itachi's turn to smirk as he shook his head and twisted to turn off the hot water tap.

His hands trailed over the bottles at the side of the tub.

"Do you know which is her favourite?" he asked, not looking at Madara.

Glancing at the line-up, Madara admitted nothing.

"Ah," said Itachi. "Well, perhaps you should leave this to someone who does know what she wants."

With that he stood, shifting Sakura in his arms, and took hold of the door.

"Excuse us."

He shoved Madara out of the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut woke her.

"Don't fight," mumbled Sakura as Itachi shampooed her hair. His jacket discarded on the hook on the back of the bathroom door, his shirtsleeves rolled up, he massaged her scalp the way she liked. She sighed as he worked at a knot at the back of her neck.

"Hn."

She sighed. "Your phone's buzzing again. Go, Itachi. They wouldn't be calling you so much if it wasn't important."

"Many things are important; few are my priorities."

She reached a hand to his cheek, and directed his gaze down to meet her half-lidded one. She gave him half a smile. "They need you. I'll be fine. Even if I fall asleep in here, 'dara won't let me drown."

His inky, fathomless eyes were surrounded by deepening bruises and layers of concern.

"Go," she repeated, tapping his nose with her fingertip. "Thanks for the ride and the bath. I can't believe you still remember my old favourites."

His expression softened at that, and he turned his face into her palm until she cupped it, and he closed his eyes, breathing her in.

"Always," he murmured, and with a last exhale he stood, straightening his shoulders. "I will call you later."

"Give me six to ten hours."

"Six." Then he smirked, arching a brow at her. "Eight only if you're good. Call me if you need assistance."

"'dara's not going to leave. He'll keep an eye on things."

"Lock your door."

"'tachi…"

"Lock. Your. Door."

"Your phone's buzzing again," she reminded him. It was.

"Hn."

She wasn't sure what he said to Madara as he left, but she heard muffled scoffing and rolled her eyes, sighing.

Madara didn't bother waiting for Sakura's door to fully close behind Itachi's departing back before he rejoined Sakura in the bathroom.

"Hey," welcomed Sakura. She had already tilted her head back against the rim of the tub and closed her eyes again. "Whether you're in or out, close the door. You're letting all the warm air out."

"Hn."

"Hmmm," she sighed, sinking further into the water.

"It doesn't bother you that a man you aren't in an intimate relationship with, according to Itachi, is in your bathroom while you're bathing?"

Her shoulders below the waterline shrugged. "I've seen nearly every Uchiha, who has recently served in Konoha's forces, naked. I'm one of their designated medics, due to them requesting and somehow getting, priority, consistent medical service especially for physicals. Several have seen me naked. Not a big deal," she yawned. "Well, seeing Fugaku shirtless for the first time was a bit awkward. When you serve together, you live together. Privacy is a luxury."

"Hn."

She yawned again, relaxing into the warm water further. "Ask away, I can tell you have a question." Her voice was drowsy.

He stepped away from the doorway, moving closer to her. "Why doesn't he act like it's ancient? Or history?"

"Hmm? Itachi? No idea. He was the one who called it off. He assured me from the get-go the whole relationship... wasn't serious. Sasuke was only aware," she yawned again, mumbling her words, "of things on the periphery. I've known him almost as long as Sasuke. He's overprotective with those he cares about. He was a demon to some of Sasuke's sergeants when he found out they were giving him Hell for being Itachi's little brother. It was hilarious."

Madara watched her a moment before coming to sit on a stool beside the bathtub, and dipping his hand in the water, swirling the bubbles idly with his fingers. Part of Sasuke and Itachi's conversation came back to mind, then, and he toyed with the rivulets trickling down his fingers.

"You've dated other men since him?"

"Not really. Too busy. I'm on call usually, when I'm not on duty or away. As you found out, you sneaky stow-away."

"So I am the first since then?"

"'dara, I've…" she sighed. "You're my patient. A very close patient, because of my connection with the Uchiha main house, through the military, and serving with Sasuke—"

"And fucking Itachi."

"—but while I am for the most part a selfish, horrible person, I like to think I would not actively jeopardise my credentials by fucking a patient I am currently treating."

"Was Itachi ever under you while under your care? Did you treat him while you were sleeping with him?"

"... getting out now."

He offered her her fluffy robe from the back of her bathroom door.

"No. Get out of the bathroom and my bedroom, Madara," said Sakura, sitting up in the water and turning her back to him. Her head and eyes were downcast, and she rubbed a facecloth over her cheeks. "Now."

He replaced the robe and left to wait for her from her kitchen.

After fifteen minutes, he checked on her only to find her passed out in her bed, wrapped up in her robe. Her eyes were still wet.

Hours later, Sakura's stomach woke her as it gnawed at her insides, growling and gurgling up a storm.

"Hey, you up for a bite to eat?"

"Sasuke?" she mumbled, crawling out from under her pile of blankets.

"Hn."

"Yeah." She rubbed at her eyes and looked around. "Sorry, were you waiting long?"

"I came by after work. We have soup, sandwiches, fruit, chips and dessert."

She groaned. "That sounds divine. Thank you."

"I'll be in the kitchen."

"I'll be out in five," she said, yawning and stretching in her pyjamas.

Then paused.

Waitaminute.

Lifting the blankets, she looked down at herself and saw she was wearing one of Sasuke's faded and discarded clan shirts, the fan on the back weathered and distressed from constant wear; and a pair of relaxed pyjamas flannel pants; and socks. Someone had put socks on her perpetually freezing feet.

She nipped to the bathroom quickly and saw her robe hanging on the metal hook on the back of the door.

Her thoughts conflicted, Sakura dressed quickly and joined Sasuke at her small kitchen table, gratefully accepting the steaming soup he offered.

"Itachi brought food by earlier when he collected Madara. He didn't think you'd want to sleep too late, but you were out cold."

"So you got dragged into this to act as my official alarm clock?"

He smirked. "Looks like. A free meal's a free meal. Do you want rolls? He got you the ones you like from the bakery across town."

Sakura sighed, picking up her spoon. "Yes, please."

As they ate, Sakura looked around the room. She hadn't been spending as much time there as usual, with the renos she'd been doing on the clanstead manor. But… it didn't seem as dusty or untidy as it had been.

"Did Itachi clean, too?"

"I don't think he had time. He had a few things to do, but he didn't want Madara to be left on his own too long in case he went looking for trouble again."

"I don't think he was trouble, when he was at the hospital. It seemed more like curiosity. Maybe boredom." She looked around and finally pinpointed what had crossed her awareness, earlier. "Did Itachi bake cookies while he was… no, you said he didn't have time," she mumbled to herself.

But someone had. She could smell them. Her stomach gurgled again in anticipation. And hunger. Oh gods, the hunger. She dug into her soup and tore large bites out of her sandwich. And then out of the extra sandwich that sat on the plate between her and Sasuke.

"Meal first, cookies later," said Sasuke, smirking at her.

"You didn't bake them?"

"Hn," he said, to the negative. "Water. Drink."

"Thanks," she said, accepting the glass he set in front of her. At her first sip, she looked up at him, amazed. "Where did you find lemons?"

"Hn?"

"Where is this water from?"

"The glass jug in your fridge."

"I don't have a glass jub." Brows pulled together, Sakura stood and opened her fridge. It was full of fresh fruit and vegetables, bread, cheeses, fresh miso, tofu, and several pre-cooked meals. And there on the top shelf, off to the side, was an unfamiliar glass jug filled with water, lemon and lime slices floating or sunk inside. And a few slices of cucumber, too, now that she looked at it.

"Itachi was damn busy," she remarked.

Sasuke grunted a bit around his food, before he swallowed and answered properly. "He said he only had time for take-out for you, and to take Madara home. He had to go back into work for the night. Something about making up a bit of lost time."

Sakura looked around her counters, noting the dishes had been washed, dried, and put away; that the surfaces had been wiped down. That her baking supplies had been rearranged, her cooling racks stacked and set aside, and three new, unfamiliar ceramic jars took pride of place upon the far counter by the fridge, each labelled. Oatmeal. Chocolate chip. Macadamia Nut.

It wasn't Itachi's writing on the labels.

She swallowed and brought the chocolate chip and macadamia nut jars to the table.

"Also, I saw Princess was back in your parking spot, downstairs. I had to park in the guest lot."

"I take it you and Itachi weren't involved in her salvage and recovery?" She smirked at him, taking another bite of her second sandwich. And more soup. And water water water, she was so thirsty.

He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing. "No. I never want to ride in that crap-bucket again."

Sakura chuckled; and glanced thoughtfully at the cookie jars again.

Her laundry folded, her carpets vacuumed, her guest room cleaned and its bed re-sheeted, and thank all that was holy, everything had been dusted.

Madara had been a busy busy bee, while she'd been out cold.

Or he'd hired a company and threatened them with disembowelling if they weren't quiet.

Either was equally possible.

Sasuke had left over an hour ago, to return to his family home. He'd see her later, and by the way, he heard their unit may be getting a call soon, heads' up.

Now she was left, her dishes washed again (by her hand, this time), and her fridge stocked with food, everything was quiet and clean and peaceful, and…

She let out a long, low breath. She was a bit lonely.

Hm.

Perhaps she should go see what she could do at the manor, before she turned in for the night. All her things were still there, after all. She could sleep there if needed. And she needed a bit of exercise before she tried to go back to sleep again, after all…

Yeah, you're just looking for an excuse, she told herself as she climbed into Princess.

A thin, thin excuse.

The fact she'd brought the cookie jars and a thank-you note or two with her was proof of that.

The sun cast long shadows as she pulled up the long, treed drive and parked in the carriage house. No other vehicles were there. Everyone must have left early, that day. Or perhaps Madara had told them they weren't welcome that afternoon, since no one was there to supervise. Normally he did. But he wasn't there, since he'd been looking after her.

It was quiet. Quieter than she'd accustomed herself to since Madara had burst into her life, cape flapping and his bits free to dangle in the breeze to the eyes of the world from the Uchiha mezzanine.

She smiled to herself.

She called a half-hearted, "I'm home, tadaima!" as she entered her family's manor from the kitchen, and set the first of her bags on the wide, wooden counter, before nipping back out to the carriage house for the next few loads.

The windows were dark, the sun spent, by the time she put her things away and climbed back up to the top floor. She was sure she could get a second coat of paint on the walls before falling back into bed again. An early start tomorrow and she'd have the entire top floor complete, and ready for her to move furniture back into.

But as she rounded the corner in the staircase and sniffed, she noted the scent of fresh paint. The draft coming down the stairs washed over her and chilled her through her light t-shirt and hoodie.

Did we leave the windows open after we primed them? Or did we close them last night? I can't remember. The paint still smells pretty strong.

She crested the stairs and drew to a stop, her hand still clutching the polished oak bannister.

The hallways were painted. The rooms were painted. There was a drop cloth spread out along the floor by one wall, here in the hallway, and wedges, brushes, turpentine, scrapers and other paraphernalia were arranged upon it. A workstation, in full use by the looks of things.

But we had only primed the walls, last night… It would have taken hours to paint them all.

A clanking sound from her right caught her attention, and she spun around to face it.

His hair pulled up into a high ponytail again, paint splattering his faded, rolled-sleeve t-shirt and low-slung jeans, Madara slowed to a stop, the two empty paint cans swinging from one hand while he tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear with the other. His eyes widened slightly to find Sakura's. A tenugui was tied over his hair like a bandana to protect it, but couldn't contain the wild mane entirely. He'd doodled large red and white circles on the tenugui, and uchiwa fans, in a repeating pattern. When had he discovered her clan symbol… Why would he wear it...

Their gazes met, held. It had been such a crazy day.

Then he set down his things and turned to her, standing straighter and breaking their stare. She blinked.

"Tadaima, Sakura," he said, quietly, calmly.

"Tadaima," she said.

When was the last time someone had welcomed her home, in her own home?

"I brought supper. And cookies." She felt her chest squeeze a bit tighter, her cheeks warming the longer she looked at him. The high ponytail was quite fetching on him, and the jeans… She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her eyes back up to meet his. "If you're hungry."

He glanced down at her lips. A slow smirk touched his lips before he could entirely erase it. "Very."

"I meant to ask you last night, but things got… busy," said Sakura. They sat in her kitchen at the old table. "Did you hear back from any of the universities about your placement tests and skills assessments?"

He nodded, stirring his supper in its bowl with his chopsticks. Swallowing, he leaned back in his seat. "I passed all the language and math exams; they said my results were exemplary. The scores for science were acceptable for admission, however they recommended I enrol in a refresher course to better my chances of success."

Sakura sat up straighter, beaming at him. "That's excellent! Congratulations."

He nodded. "Thank you for your help in my preparations and review."

She smiled at him, blushing. "You're plenty intelligent, Madara," she said. "Too intelligent, sometimes," she added, rueful.

He smirked for the briefest moment; it suited him.

"Well, it's March now. That leaves you plenty of time to review, if you want to apply for a summer session to try a few courses out."

"They already accepted my application for full-time studies, beginning this fall."

Sakura's eyes widened and her brows rose into her hair. "They did?... Good gods, 'dara, what kind of scores did you get for them to offer that?"

"High ones," he answered, a hint of a predatory glint in his eyes.

She laughed. "Well, as long as no one died in the process, I'm proud of you."

"Did anyone die, this morning?"

She shook her head. "None of mine did, as far as I know. I haven't called in to check. That's for the staff to handle. I was supposed to be off. Tsunade will have their heads for calling me in for this one."

"This amuses you?"

"I wouldn't want to be in their shoes, is all. Especially the trio that didn't answer their phones when they were on call." She cringed. "I rarely take time off or put in not to be called. It won't be for me to sort out, though."

"They take advantage of you."

"Almost everyone does," she said with a shrug. "I'm a doctor. I live to serve. But luckily Tsunade has my back."

"Your mentor; she is also a doctor."

Sakura nodded, swallowing another bite before she answered. "Yes. She is the best there is. I owe her a great deal. She's been a second mom to me."

"Is she willing to take on patients?"

Sakura lifted her eyes to the ceiling, considering. "Well, some of the higher-ranking officers whom she served with request her, and sometimes if there's something Shizune or I can't figure out, we'll ask for her to consult."

Madara nodded.

"What are you thinking?" She didn't trust his silent contemplation for a moment. There was no such thing as an Uchiha with a quiet, non-thinking mind.

"Hn."

"Did you enjoy your outing, today?" she asked, tip-toeing into the muddier water of their day.

"Yes."

"What was your favourite part?"

He looked at her, and she knew he was considering his words carefully. "Spending time with you. Away from everyone else."

Sakura swallowed, smiling at him. "It was an exciting drive in. And as we left the ward, the nurses asked me to forward on their thanks to you."

Something behind his inky eyes flashed, irritation and something indefinable, before he nodded. "Hn."

She narrowed an eye at him, resting her head in her palm, her elbow on the table. "What happened to the bottle of Tequila?"

"I shared it with friends."

Blinking at him slowly, she remembered she'd found him holed up in the Pediatric Ward.

Sensing her unease he smirked at her softly. "The old ones. The veterans. They were more amenable to my presence after a few drinks."

Sakura's shoulders twitched. "You gave them Tequila instead of lunch, didn't you?"

"They were far more cooperative."

She sighed. "Well, as long as they behaved themselves, I suppose. Let's not share that with Tsunade, though, okay?" Crap. Tsunade would have her hide. The hypocrite.

"The children preferred the Goldfish."

At this she genuinely smiled at him. "That's good. I saw you helped one girl make a set of angel wings."

He shook his head. "Batwings. She wanted to be Batman."

Sakura stared at him.

"She said she wanted to be able to defend her family and protect her loved ones."

Sakura's smile was soft. "An admirable goal."

"Your goal."

She shook her head. "No. Not really."

"I disagree."

Still resting her head in her palm, she shrugged. "I have no family left, nor loved ones."

"Then what is your goal? What is your 'why'? Why do you get up in the morning? Go to work? Work on this house?"

"At this point, my goal is to get you rehabilitated so you can gain your independence and get your life back. My other goals are to do my job well to preserve soldiers' lives, whenever possible. As for the house… sentimental value. Camaraderie. Building friendships." She tilted her chin at Madara. "How about you? What's your goal? What's your 'why'?"

"You."

Sakura shook her head. "Sorry, I don't follow...?"

"You. My goddess."

Sakura's heart ticked over at his casual answer, so confidently given. As if it should have been obvious. And perhaps it had been and she'd been ignoring the meaning behind everything for weeks, simply continuing on her blind drive through life.

And Madara must have understood that, too, because he continued on. "I will be with you. I work to assist you with your goal. I study to spend time with you and earn your regard. I will go to school this fall because you value education and independence, and you want me to succeed so I will succeed."

His eyes darkened, his voice matching. "And I will exceed everyone's expectations so you find no fault with me. I will work hard to become the man who has every ounce of your attention." He held her gaze. "I will be yours."

Her mouth going dry, a fine trembling permeating her fingers and up her arms, Sakura opened her mouth to speak, but the words failed her.

"I… I can't. I can't ask that of you. You deserve to be free. Madara, I'm not… I'm not who you think I am. I'm an emotional mess. Don't make me…" she tripped over her words, swallowed and looked away from him as shame burned her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand as she fought for composure. Forcing a smile, she turned back to him. "I am very flattered, but I respectfully decline your… attention." Why did her heart hurt like this? This wasn't fair. Why couldn't it just stay the same. Innocent flirting. Fun. Not serious.

"Confession."

"Delusion," she countered, her brow lowering. "Once you're better, you'll see there's so much more out there, 'dara. Don't limit yourself. Don't settle." She swallowed again. "Don't ever settle."

"I'm yours."

She hated his calm. His confidence. His utter certainty.

It angered her. Because it made her examine herself and realize she wasn't sure about anything about herself anymore. She felt stupid. Inadequate.

Shooting to her feet, she gathered her dishes, dumped her food in the garbage, and threw her dishes in the sink. She heard at least one crack and break. She didn't care. She'd deal with it later.

"I'm going to bed."

He stood, lifting his dishes. "I'll join you."

"No!" She whirled around, tears burning her cheeks. "No! I may have nothing else left, but leave me that at least! I'm not… I'm… I can't. Not with you. Just… Fuck," she growled angrily under her breath, and stalked out of the room, slamming doors behind her.

At the table, Madara set down his food.

"I'm yours," he repeated quietly.

Then, his fists curling on the table's surface, with more intensity, "You are mine."

Her phone rang at six forty seven in the morning.

"Hello?"

"You sound like shit."

"Fuck you, Sasuke."

"Where are you?"

"The manor."

"We've been called in. How soon can you meet me?"

Sakura sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Where?"

"Full gear, main gates. Sign in, sign out."

Their main deployment base, then. "How long this time?"

Sasuke's voice softened, only for her. "They said to make sure we said our goodbyes."

Sakura closed her eyes again. "Long term, huh?"

"At least a few weeks. Possibly months. Possibly the longest kind of long term." They shared a moment of silence on the phone. "Bring a paperback."

Sakura snorted, and she knew Sasuke was smirking on the other end of the line.

"Two-to-three hours," she replied. "I need to get back into Konoha, and then check my bag. It's packed, but I'll need to make sure the medi-pack's expiry dates are going to last that long."

"I'll meet you at your place, then, and I'll help."

"Thanks," she said, smiling. "See you in an hour."

"'Later."

The line went dead and Sakura fell back down into her sleeping bag.

Reaching to the side, she pulled out her clothes from the day before. She'd be in uniform soon enough. She wasn't wasting fresh laundry for a three-hour wear. Her hand knocked against her nightstand, dislodging the stack of books and papers.

After a moment of hesitation, she also grabbed a pen and paper.

Sasuke saw Genma approaching and nodded to him as he and Sakura passed through their security checks.

"I'll go see what's up."

"Okay," she replied, too tired to follow. She looked around and spotted several of her platoon-mates, and made her way towards them.

She passed by a pillar and felt a gentle, firm hand grasp her wrist and give her a tug. She turned to find a pair of familiar dark eyes watching her, their lined, bruised furrows deeper than usual.

"Hey," she said, trying to smile for him. It fell a little flat.

"Sakura," he breathed, drawing her closer.

To her surprise, especially in such a public place, Itachi pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said, his voice soft.

She sighed. "You know about this mission, and you're not allowed to tell me something about it, and it is dangerous. In that order. Right?" She chuckled.

Furthering her disbelief, he closed his eyes, resting his head in her neatly swept ponytailed hair. "Please don't joke about this one. When you get there, listen to Kakashi. No matter what, just promise me you won't hare off or lose your temper. Follow his instructions to the letter, do you hear me?" His furtive, whispered words were so quiet she wouldn't have been able to hear them if he hadn't spoken them against the shell of her ear. "They wouldn't listen to me. So you listen to him. And you come back to us. To me. Promise me, Sakura."

"Itachi," she breathed, something cold and tight shimmying down her spine.

He squeezed her tighter, whispered once more against her ear, "Promise me," before pulling back just far enough to look deep into her eyes.

"I promise," she whispered back.

His smile was warm, and sad, and he touched his palm to her cheek as strong emotions flickered behind his fathomless eyes.

"I…" he swallowed, forced a small smile for her, and then stepped back, as if suddenly conscious of the fact they were in a public venue. "I look forward to your return."

She nodded to him, and saluted. He was her commanding officer, after all.

"Yes, sir." She forced a smile for him, too. "I…" She swallowed. "Stay safe, sir. You're very important to us, too."

He watched her, willing her to do or say something, but she didn't understand. His smile warmed a half-second longer, his mouth opening, his gaze communicating something she couldn't fathom, before he turned away.

Sakura forced herself to stay calm. Calm, even as her heart and stomach traded places inside her, and her face flushed and her head hurt.

"You're late."

Sakura sighed as she heard the first words through her headset. The air-lift personnel waved at their chopper pilot and they were granted permission to ascend.

"I was out of town. This was supposed to be my time off," said Sakura. She turned to look at Ino beside her. They strapped on their five-point harnesses, their colleagues doing the same around them. Sasuke sat to her other side, on her left, with Naruto to his left. Ino had taken Naruto's usual spot at Sakura's side. Even though their conversations could only be passed through their radios, and others could overhear them, sometimes it was nice to be close to discuss some things.

"Oh yeah. How are the renovations coming? I haven't had a chance to come see it yet. Mom and Dad said they felt bad bothering you about the greenhouses when you may have contractors around. They didn't want to be in the way."

Sakura waved a hand. "It's more friends who are helping."

Ino arched a perfectly manicured brow. "Since when do you have 'friends' outside work?"

Sakura's smile was tight. "Yeah, I know, right?"

Something in Sakura's voice caught her best friend's attention. "You okay?" she asked, reaching for Sakura's arm.

"It's all good," promised Sakura, nodding at her best friend.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we need to brief on the fly, literally," said Shikamaru. He passed around a set of tablets and a booklet of papers.

"As you can see, we're going to locate and support a division that's been cut off from its main command. The area is extremely hostile. I repeat, extremely hostile, and volatile. Before we lost contact, there were signs their leadership had been compromised. Whether this was an internal conflict or external is still undetermined..."

Their chopper cut across the air on its way to its destination, leaving Konoha far behind it.

At the main reception desk at the deployment hub, on his way back to his office, Itachi slowed to a stop as he heard frantic hollering.

"I'm telling you, she's here!"

"I'm sorry sir, unless you are an immediate family member or spouse, we cannot release any information about—"

"I swear I will break down this class and shred your veins if you don't tell me where she is right now!"

Hurrying his pace (and noting the assembling security personnel), Itachi slowed to a stop when he saw him. "Madara?"

"Itachi. Where is she?"

"You know him?" one of the security officers asked, their eyes flicking to the unhinged man at the gates.

Itachi nodded. "Yes... He is a family member."

"He's asking about Dr Haruno."

Madara's eyes glinted as he pressed against the glass partition. "Itachi, you know where she is, I know you do."

"I'll handle this," Itachi told him, waving them off. Flashing his security badge, he exited the division and met Madara.

His relative had seen better days, though he was looking healthier overall; but he'd pulled his hair back in a high ponytail, he'd put on fresh clothing, and he'd obviously bathed. It was just his wild eyes and shaking hands that gave him away. And perhaps his threats of torture towards front-line military personnel. That was a bit uncouth; particularly from someone from their clan.

"Where is she, Itachi?" Madara grabbed Itachi's lapels, and twisted his tie around his fist, dragging him closer. "Why? Why did she go? This was my time with her. Mine."

Itachi frowned at Madara. "Calm down. Walk. Stop causing a scene or I can't get you in."

Immediately Madara tensed. "Is she here?"

With a low huff, his own emotions wreaking havoc inside him, Itachi dragged Madara outside. He ignored the way Madara's hands scrabbled and wrenched at his grip. He wasn't letting him loose until they had some distance from the main entrance.

When they'd walked a few hundred meters from the entrance, Itachi directed them towards the parking lot. He released Madara, who stood straighter and patted his clothes down.

"No running. Act calm," ordered Itachi.

"Fuck you," snarled Madara, turning his attention back to the building again. Then his shoulders hitched downwards, his hands dropping to his side. "She already left."

"Over an hour ago. You would have embarrassed her if she'd still been there. People talk."

"But she didn't wake me up to say goodbye."

Itachi's glare cut to Madara faster than lightning.

"You were supposed to be at home last night."

"I got bored."

Understanding tore through Itachi, and all he saw was red. Another imposition on Sakura's time. Again. "Did she get any sleep at all last night?" yelled Itachi, grabbing Madara by his shirt front and yanking him around to face him. Breathing hard, Itachi shook him. "Answer me."

"She was in her room by midnight."

Itachi shoved him away, and rubbed his shaking hand over his mouth. He could barely contain his fury.

Madara watched him, not missing a gesture.

"So it's true."

"What's true," muttered Itachi, looking at the sky, far, far in the distance.

"Everything. You love her. She's a wreck because she feels her only value is as a healer, not a person. She knows she's being sent to die."

"She's being sent with the most capable team we have, with very specific instructions. She's… she has a chance," said Itachi, finally. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

Madara shook his head. He pulled a paper out of his pocket. "She doesn't think so."

Eyeing Madara a moment, Itachi reached out and read it.

It was dated that morning.

"Fuck," snapped Itachi, his eyes narrowing, his lips curling back from his teeth.

Tsunade looked up from her desk at the two men seated across from her. They were so similar, yet where Itachi was normally so placid and calm from what she knew of him, now their combined tension was palpable.

"Misters Uchiha," she began, only to have both reply, "Hn." Then glare at each other.

"Madara, then," she said, turning to the one with the wild mane. "How can I help you?"

"I would like you to take over my care from Sakura."

"My apprentice?"

Madara nodded.

"And why is that?"

Madara's eyes slid to the side, where Itachi sat, hands folded in his lap.

"Is this personal in nature?" Tsunade inquired, looking between the two.

Itachi's hands stiffened, she noted, and Madara gave her a curt nod.

"Ah. Madara, would you be more comfortable in a private meeting?"

"As he is recovering from a severe condition and drug complications and withdrawal that compromised his decision-making abilities, I am one of his named guardians and powers of attourney for care," said Itachi. "I should be involved in decisions relating to his care."

Madara's lips curled back. "I have been making my own decisions for some time," he said.

Itachi didn't blink. "Under Sakura's supervision."

"And as she is away," said Madara evenly, "I would like to continue and maintain the progress I've made in my self-care by enlisting the help of another competent medic."

Tsunade looked between the two a moment. "Sakura was your primary physician?"

Madara nodded. "I have a copy of her notes here."

Itachi's eyes narrowed. "How did you get those?"

Madara ignored Itachi, and Tsunade held a hand up. Then she held her hand out, which Madara promptly deposited the folder in.

"A moment, please," she said, opening it for review.

Itachi's breath came a bit harsher, but otherwise he remained calm. For his part, Madara remained aloof and as relaxed as he could.

A short time later, Tsunade looked up, regarding both men. "Madara? Please step outside a moment. I will call you back in shortly."

Shoulders tightening, Madara left them, closing the door behind himself. He leaned his back against the door to absorb the vibrations of the discussion between Itachi and Tsunade, however the heavy oak didn't pass the sound through very well. With a faint pinch in his brow he moved to the waiting room chairs.

Tsunade glared at Itachi from across her desk, her arms folded beneath her ample bosom.

"What is really going on? "

"He is attached to her. She was genuinely helping him with his recovery."

"And?"

Itachi returned her narrow eyed look with a bland one of his own.

"Uchiha, I told you once not to fuck with me or my apprentice. You disregarded that. What's going on."

His hands folded in his lap, Itachi explained. "She is confused. He is emotionally attached. She kept him at an emotional distance, or so she thought, but he has overstepped his bounds. I believe he wants to enlist your help in becoming his documented medical practitioner so he can pursue Sakura more deliberately when she returns."

"And?" She arched a brow at him. "Spit it out. What are you doing, involved in all this? I was under the impression that there was something going on between you and Sakura. Why's your crazy relative suddenly in the picture? Did you and Sakura officially break things off? I thought you just wanted to think things over."

Itachi's eyes darkened and narrowed at Tsunade for a moment, menace glinting in his inky depths, before he grabbed hold of his composure once more.

"As I am her commanding officer, there is no relationship between Haruno Sakura and myself."

Tsunade snorted. "Uh huh." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "You do know she nearly had a breakdown when she was pregnant with your kid, right? Until the miscarriage, that is."

Itachi's composure collapsed in a heartbeat.

"She… She was…"

He couldn't get the air in fast enough, his grip on the chair arms crushing the material as he paled and staggered in the seat.

Tsunade frowned at him. "You were the one who called off the relationship. Cut the dramatics. She got hurt on the mission when the mine went off after the first team failed to clear the area properly. She had already been exhausted and made mistakes. She got help too late; we were lucky we didn't lose her, too. She knows all that. Trust me, she's beaten herself up about it plenty. Then for her to come home to find out her family passed away, and that you wanted some 'space', it's no wonder she lost it for a bit."

Her voice softening, she let out a sigh. "I see you cared for her. And still do. But what the Hell, Uchiha. This is messed up. What is it between Sakura and your family?"

His head in his hands, Itachi let out a heavy breath.

"We are cursed," he muttered, voice thick.

"Yes, but beyond that."

"I could use a minute," he admitted resentfully, and Tsunade rolled her eyes.

"You aren't hearing this for the first time."

"It's the first time it was confirmed. Suspicions or rumours are one thing, but…" His voice trailed off as he straightened slightly, looking away. He let out another low breath before turning back to her.

"So, what's going on now? It's Madara's turn?"

Itachi glared at Tsunade; she returned it balefully.

"She saved him from a history of drug overdose and complication. He's attached to her and fixated on her. For him, it is unusual to be so dedicated in a non-detrimental fashion. He's been making an effort, for her, to improve himself. I just don't know how much is genuine and how much is for show so he can wiggle out from under the Uchiha's protection and out onto his own."

"You think he's using her."

"In short. Possibly. Probably. He's opportunistic, and socio- or psychopathic."

"And you think Sakura is emotionally compromised and unsure whether to take him seriously."

He nodded. "Especially with… everything that's happened."

Tsunade nodded.

"Bearing in mind that normally she wears her heart on her sleeve, what makes you question her?"

Itachi's dark, elegant brows furrowed as he rested his elbows on his knees.

"I think she is afraid to trust him; and bordering on self-destructive behaviour to cope with her anxieties and stress."

Tsunade's eyes narrowed at him. "You think she's compromised."

"Emotionally. She's still highly functioning, professionally."

"And using her job as a crutch," growled Tsunade. "And you just sent her on a tactical retrieval mission. Did you notify her immediate commanding officer of this?"

Wetting his lips, Itachi folded his hands together, his fingers tightening. "I spoke to Kakashi. No particulars, but he will be keeping her close. Closer than usual." His tone was grumbly. "I also told her to pay attention to his directions."

"But you're still worried. And you're panicking. That isn't like you," said Tsunade, pursing her lips. "How highly classified is this mission?"

"S-class."

Tsunade's eyes widened in disbelief. "You just let one of our best medics out the door when she's possibly making impaired decisions, for an S-class?!"

The paintings on the walls rattled in their frames at her booming voice as her hands smacked down on her desk, and she loomed over it, over Itachi.

"I didn't know how serious until after she'd left."

"How? How could you not have known…" Tsunade looked down at the paper Itachi held out to her. "What's this?"

"You'll see."

Tsunade's brow knit as she accepted it; then she fell into her seat with a small cry.

I, Sakura Haruno, being of sound mind and body, do, upon my passing, herein bequeath my…

As Itachi watched Tsunade read Sakura's last will and testament, he recalled Madara's dead dead voice from earlier that week.

"She left me the clanstead."

Itachi had looked over at Madara's faint, uncertain expression, his proud, strong shoulders rounding as he raised a hand to his temple, gripping at his hair. "Why would she leave me the clanstead, Itachi, if she was planning on coming back? It was… It was supposed to be ours. Our home. My goddess' and mine."

He'd turned his eyes on Itachi, his shoulders tight. "Where is she? Where is my goddess of light?"

'She's gone to save the world of someone else,' he'd mentally replied. It wouldn't be the first time she had walked away from what was important to her, personally, to do her job.

"This is completely unacceptable," said Tsunade, as she slapped the paper down onto the desktop. Her shaking voice roused Itachi from his memory.

"Uchiha!"

Itachi looked up at her.

Her lips pressed together, Tsunade's honey-amber eyes bore into his as she reached for the phone with one hand, and wrote a note on her personal stationery with the other.

"Suit up. You're being deployed."

His brow furrowed minutely. "Due to my impaired vision, I'm not—"

Tsunade shoved her note at him. "You're officially cleared." She turned to her phone. "Pick up you bast—Good, you answered. You're doing me a favour. No, not like that. Listen, there's a team that was sent out… Yes. Yes…"

Itachi watched as Tsunade's temper simmered and sputtered, guttered and fizzled into confusion.

"No, I know you can't give me official details; shut up and stop evading, Jiraiya. Tell me what happened to Sakura's team…."

Itachi leaned forward.

"... when did that happen?... You mean Sakura's team lost contact?..."

He stiffened. No one had informed him of that; and considering he was one of her commanding officers, that meant it had been kept from him deliberately.

"...you and I both know Uchiha Itachi would have opposed a movement like that in this type of combat theatre…" Tsunade's fingers curled tightly around the phone receiver, like a crushing talon. Her eyes flicked to Itachi's and he nodded. "Who gave that order, Jiraiya?"

But Itachi already knew.

Danzo.

"... you bet your porn collection he's on his way out," growled Tsunade. "This is enough to sanction dismissal and court-martialing! He's sent an entire team to—No, I'm on it. You keep him in the dark until I'm ready to move. Just do me a favour and get a helicarrier ready, quietly… Yes. Yes. Yes. Good. I'll call you back in five minutes."

She hung up and her eyes glowed fiercely, protectively as she looked at Itachi.

"Gather your team. You leave in two-point-five hours."

Itachi nodded, automatically saluting. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you remember the way to the front entrance?"

Madara set down the wide-rimmed, empty glass he'd been turning over and over in his hand as he looked up at Itachi from his seat in the waiting area outside Tsunade's office.

"Do you?" repeated Itachi, his voice stressed, the lines in his face deeper than usual.

"Hn," said Madara.

"Go. I'll have a car waiting to take you home."

Madara frowned at him. "I came to speak to Tsunade. Is she going to—"

"Something came up but I convinced her," lied Itachi, running a hand through his hair as he looked at his watch. "I need to go. You'll see yourself out?"

"Hn."

Itachi nodded. "Thank you, Madara," said Itachi, genuinely as he looked at his relative. "I need to go," he repeated.

Madara lifted a hand. "Bye."

Hurrying off, Itachi lifted his phone to his ear, waving at Madara, already making arrangements for his former team to reunite and rendez-vous on the chopper pad deck.

Madara watched him go. He turned to look at Tsunade's door once more, before sighing and standing.

"Hn," he murmured to himself thoughtfully, and with a careless toss of his ponytail he tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked away in the direction opposite from the main entrance.

The radios crackled and Itachi nodded to the pilot before turning to the members of his former team.

"Thank you for joining me," he said, holding the bulkhead to keep his feet steady as they ascended.

The group nodded once, and Shisui jutted out his chin, adjusting his radio slightly.

"How come all the secrecy? And the closed radio channels?"

"We're going in to recover a lost team. Possibly more than one. They were planted with false information and lost contact with central command sixteen hours ago."

"Sixteen hours ago? Why are we only going now?"

There was mild rumbling over the radio, and as several members of the team looked at each other.

"That will be explained later," said Itachi, forcing his jaw not to tighten. "For now, we are to provide support to retrieve as many as we can. Here's what we know so far…"

From his seat towards the back, a helmeted soldier sat calmly as their commanding officer relayed their orders. The soldier's uniform was not quite as familiar as it was to its original owner; but in times of desperate need, sacrifices had to be made, and compromises obtained. And this was of utmost import.

Beneath his uniform his heart beat strongly, calming him. "I'm yours," he repeated to himself under his breath.

A small possessive smirk crossed his features, hidden by his helmet and the angle of his head.

"And you're mine."

AN: The full list of prompts:

1. Tipsy

2. Drunk

3. Forget

4. Confessions

5. Mistakes **Next up!**

AN 2: This one took a crazy turn. We get back to our usual shenanigans next time. Promise.