AN: Well, I had the first chapter of the companion piece for As Luck Would Have It and this mostly written a while ago, but I had some computer issues and lost all my files. When it came to rewriting everything, this wanted to be written first. I do not own the characters. Hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think.

"Call it."

Sakura's voice came out woodenly, but she didn't have the energy to care.

"Time of death…"

The voice of the other medic grew imperceptible as Sakura left the operating room, shedding her surgical gown and tossing her gloves into a red hazardous waste bin. She washed her hands mechanically at the metal sink beside the door, lathering and rising repeatedly. It didn't make the phantom sensation of blood covering her fingers and palms go away, even though nothing had gotten past the barrier of the gloves earlier.

Turning, the medic made her way down the overly-bright, white hallway, her left shoe squeaking with every step. She maintained an unhurried pace and a calm, professional mask as she descended the stairs to the basement level of the hospital. Then, finally, she reached her destination.

Closet 148B.

The name placard for it had long since faded, so the worn numbers now more closely resembled that of 43B. The one place in the entire hospital with a locking door that only she seemed to remember existed. Even the custodial staff seemed to avoid it. The medic knew that she was the only one to ever utilize the tiny, cramped room, aside from the lone spider that had taken up residence in one corner of the ceiling. The fact that there was no interior lighting didn't bother her as she locked herself in, sitting in the dark amongst the cleaning supplies that were likely older than her.

And, as her cheek came to rest upon her knees, and her arms went around her legs, Sakura allowed her carefully affixed emotionless mask to crumble. As the tears finally fell, turning into violent sobs that she knew would go unheard this deep in the hospital, she blindly reached for something—anything—to hold onto.

Every time she lost a patient, it hurt. But this…

He had just been a child.

He had only been a genin. A bright-eyed, eager young shinobi that had dreams of doing great things. That hadn't yet learned that there was no such thing as glory on the battlefield. A whole life before him. A tentative crush on one of his fellow teammates, something that might have become something more, but now would never have the opportunity to grow or be explored.

The twelve-year-old had been caught in the line of fire during a mission gone wrong. Instead of all that he had been in life, all she could see was his blood covering her gloves in the operating room. Soon he would be a name etched in stone. She had tried, done everything in her power, but it had been too little, too late. The second that the barrage of kunai had pierced his intestines, he had never stood a chance. The basic medical ninjutsu that his mentor knew would have never been enough to prevent the sepsis from spreading.

Still, Sakura couldn't help but wish that she could have done more. She had just finished a long shift at the hospital and had been about to leave when the team had been rushed through the doors. Every available medic still at the hospital had responded, including herself. But it hadn't made a difference. She couldn't help but wish that the unfounded belief—that once an injured shinobi was brought through the doors of Konoha's hospital, they would be alright—was more than just that. But that wasn't reality.

The wooden handle of a mop shattered in her tight grip.

Mechanically, she made her way to her apartment, barely noticing the cold rain that fell. Sakura eventually found herself at her door, hands trembling as they struggled to unlock it. After more attempts than she cared to recall, the silver key finally entered and turned in the lock, letting the door swing open. A dark living room greeted her as soon as she entered, but she didn't bother to turn on any lights before shoving the door shut behind her.

Fingers stiff with cold fumbled with the closures of her jacket before she managed to undo the buttons. The coat, heavy with water, fell to the floor without care. She tripped over her similarly discarded shoes before sinking down heavily onto the couch, staring blankly at the walls.

Time lost all meaning.

She didn't know how long she sat there—minutes, hours, it all blurred together—never noticing the slight creak of her window as it opened. It wasn't until he sat down to the right of her, his weight on the cushion displacing her slightly, that she realized he was there.

It wasn't a surprise. News of what occurred at the hospital travelled quickly, and though uncommon, this certainly wasn't his first visit under these circumstances.

When his arm wrapped around her shoulders, she couldn't help but rest her head heavily on his shoulder, no longer having the strength to sit upright on her own.

"I'm alright."

Her words came out tentatively, whispered almost too faintly to hear.

"No, you're not," he murmured softly against the top of her head, masked lips brushing against the damp strands of her hair. "And that's okay."

His gentle tone was her undoing.

Tears she thought had long since run dry silently slid down her cheek.

He knew that nothing he said would make it better, so Kakashi didn't say anything. He simply sat beside her, not caring that her tears mingled with rainwater to soak the fabric of his shirt. When she eventually fell into an exhausted sleep, he carefully carried Sakura to her bed. After gently resting her head on a pillow, he pulled the covers over her and headed over to the window. He paused as his fingers met the cool glass, shooting one last concerned glance at her resting form before silently exiting the apartment the same way he had come in.