Again. For the third time in a week Sakura Haruno woke up to a muted thud coming from her living room. She groaned and got out of bed with a scowl. For God's sake, it's 3 AM! Can't they just go to the damn hospital? A week of working four graveyard shifts at the hospital, training with the boys and a general lack of sleep, she was left with next to no energy left for any serious healing, but being the never-off-duty-medic she was, she just couldn't turn them away. "Them" being the endless flurry of ninja coming back from missions covered in wounds, mainly caused due to macho nonsense and general stupidity and then refusing to go to the hospital.

No, she couldn't turn them away, especially not now, not after registering the chakra signature coming from the living room to be His. All sluggishness forgotten, she hurried into her dressing gown and into the living room, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. Instinctively? More like due to common sense, seeing as he never visited her anymore. And reaching the slumped figure, she knew she was right. He was sitting with his head down right by the only window in the room. Go Figure, she thought, he never used the door to enter her apartment.

Used. Past tense.

She rarely saw him these days, only seeing him on missions where he was focused solely on the objective or when he passed by her on the street, barely acknowledging her presence and she'd taken the hint a while back and had stopped seeking him out. Hint? Now that was a gross understatement. Genius or not, he wasn't exactly subtle about trying to avoid her.

Realising that she was standing right in front of him, the figure looked up at her and she froze.

"Kakashi.."

He was covered in blood. Was it his? She sure hoped it wasn't...there was so much of it, no wonder he wasn't standing. He should've gone straight to the hospital, the idiot. Noticing her expression, he offered her a small wave and a happy eye crease, that normally indicated a smile, but Sakura knew better. She could read his expression with his sole visible eye almost as clearly as an open book. Almost.

He was in pain and was trying to reassure her. This snapped her out of her reverie and she helped him up, ignoring his weak protests saying he didn't need it.

Weak. Not a word she generally associated with her ex-sensei.

She helped him to the small couch and took in his injuries. The thought "there goes my upholstery" was roughly yanked out of her head as she took in his injuries. His flak jacket was missing, the shirt he normally wore underneath was cut in many places, and was soaked in blood. His hitai-ate was missing as well, forcing him to keep his left eye scrunched closed, and she could see the crusted blood under the lid. He'd obviously over-used his Sharingan again. His spiky silver mane was caked in mud and blood.

Overall, his injuries looked bad, but not severe enough to knock him out and force him into the hospital.

She quickly fetched her supplies and lots of water, and bent over him, starting with the worst wound first, a deep cut on his side. Damn, it looks like someone tried, and very nearly succeeded trying to cut him in half, she thought. After cutting off parts of the shirt around the wound, or what was left of the shirt anyway, she started cleaning the wounds and healing him with a glowing palm, moving on to the various lacerations, breaks, the cracked ribs and the oh-so-many bruises. It turned out that the blood was not all his after all, to Sakura's relief.

Not one word was exchanged during the whole process. What could she even say to him? She'd said a lot the last time they'd spoken properly, and hadn't gotten a reply. That was months ago. Four months, to be exact. They hadn't spoken much after that, and only in the presence of company.

And she'd been miserable since then.

"There," she said after about an hour, "that should do for now. I'll get the futon, don't move. You're staying the night. Don't bother arguing, I've given you some painkillers, so you'll probably be out of it till noon anyway. I'll inform Shishou that you're here when I go in tomorrow." Avoiding his gaze, she went into laundry room and dragged out the futon and brought it to the living room, helped him onto it, and went back to her room, shutting the door behind her.

If she heard his whispered apology, she ignored it.

Needless to say, Sakura didn't get much sleep that night. Again.

A/N

Cue: Inexperienced rant.

1. Oops. My Debbie Downer is showing. Too short, I know.

2. Hey all, (by all I mean the very few people who might, if I'm lucky, read the story) this is my first fanfic, so I hope you go a little easy on me.

3. The story is not all angst and hidden sighs btw, this just hit me at 3 am last night (this morning?). Anyway, I hope I won't drag it out too much.

4. I'm looking for a beta reader. So if anybody out there is bored and not too impatient, please give me a shout.

5. I'll be doing the next chapter from Kakashi's pov, so I'm kinda excited.

6. Review please! Pretty please?

7. And no, I have absolutely no idea where I'm going to go with this.

*Happy eye crease* ^_^