#deleted chapter

MYSTERY BOX - DELETED CHAPTER

“So. How did you end up in Ascelin’s company?” Drogomir asked instead, and since it seemed important to him Anastas told him.

“He walked up to my window and asked after my sister.”

Drogomir looked a little disturbed and a lot of tired by his news, and waved for him to continue.

So Anastas gave him an abbreviated version, which the man let go uninterrupted. Mostly.

He got a little upset about the break in.

“I suppose that’s why he wanted to leave you here.” Bedelia mused, cleaning her bowl with a piece of bread. “I don’t like the idea of you in that house by yourself anyway.”

“Alone?” Drogomir echoed, giving her an alarmed look, and then towards Anastas like he expected a corroboration to believe what he was hearing. Anastas nodded — yes, alone — and Drogomir’s brow scrunched down and his nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed like lightning. “He shouldn’t have left you there the first time.” He said, in a way that didn’t bode well for Ascelin’s continued existence. Anastas reassessed his mental image of Drogomir, injuring someone - now he could picture it fine.

“Erm. I don’t know if I should defend him, but he did try to get me to go. But I wasn’t going to go anywhere with him I didn’t have to.” Anastas admitted, “At least not until staying became scarier than going.”

“Him scaring you is another issue entirely.” Drogo jabbed his spoon at a potato. “I should box his ears.”

The image this produced was amusing, if ill-advised. “He might maul you.” Anastas said, thinking of the fire that sprung free to Ascelin’s clawed fingertips.

“Do not worry on my behalf.” Drogomir grumbled. “I am going to shake him until some sense flies into his empty head.”

“I get the impression that his decisions make him unpopular.” Anya admitted.

“Blin, because he makes everyone’s lives more difficult.” Drogo agreed. “The only person who likes him is your sister, and she causes me just as many headaches.”

Vasilissa caused other people headaches? Anastas tried to decide how he felt about this. At least, she caused her ex-fiance headaches…

“He’s in a temper, dear.” Bedelia said, while Drogo fell into another code-switching rant. “Just let him get it out.”

Anastas shrugged and ate his stew. He got the impression Bedelia was trying to fatten him up, and that was a far less upsetting thing to consider than the rest of his circumstances, so he focused on it.

“I hate them.” Drogo mumbled to the wood. “One of these days, I’m going to save us the stress and lock Ascelin in the basement. We can throw him down books, pass him jam through the door.”

Anastas had some compelling evidence for why this wouldn’t work: “He picks locks.”

“Bly- blin.” The man corrected quickly, to Anastas’s private amusement. “Then we take away his knives. The gloves. Anything sharp.” The prospector sat up a little and rubbed at his temples. “And Vasilissa, we can - I don’t know what we can do with her.” He realized, his brow furrowing. “I’ve watched her punch a scourge beast. She will definitely punch me if I lock her up.”

Anastas winced. Had she? That sounded like something Vera would have scolded her for.

Drogo was still problem-solving. “Maybe if we lock her in a room with soft walls, and no weapons…”

“Well, that dog won’t hunt.” A new, familiar voice interjected, and Anastas and Bedelia jumped and snapped their heads towards the antechamber of the townhouse.

Ascelin was standing there, smiling like he hadn’t disappeared from existence for two days. From how Bedelia jumped, Anastas summarized she hadn’t heard him come in either. But Drogomir didn’t look surprised, just despairing.

Ascelin walked farther in. He was dressed in dark mended slacks and a pale reddish waistcoat, white shirt, and a dark capelet. Still with a hood, though whether that was due to light sensitivity or a healthy sense of melodrama remained to be seen. A loose lock of hair, shining greenish in the candlelight, hung loose from his hood.

“Unless you mean to strip me naked.” Ascelin smiled at them, canting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes.

Anastas shifted in his seat for a better look, because while he was annoyed- well, it was also the first time he had seen Ascelin’s whole face exposed. To his annoyance the hunter was very pretty, with high cheekbones, narrow eyes, and a scar across his nose.

It was terrible. Anastas turned his attention to his stew bowl and reminded himself that it didn’t do to find anything pleasing about the man.

Thankfully oblivious to this, Ascelin was - still picking fights with their host. “All these years and I never knew you thought of me that way, Drogo.” He leaned on the table beside the tomb prospector, smiling down at him in what could only be flirtation in front of the man’s wife.

Drogo smacked his head, making Ascelin lean away and laugh. “You are insufferable. You will come to the study and explain what you have done this time.”

Ascelin leaned back and relaxed a little, and his smile shifted from artifice to something soft and genuine. “Yeah, I’d love to. Should probably let the kid come along. Oh - and let me go and get the box from the stoop.”

“Box?” Drogomir echoed. Ascelin’s smile twitched back to something fake, and Anastas wondered how worried they should be.

#

The mysterious box was hissing, and Drogomir was looking at it mistrustfully.

But — this was a big but — he let Ascelin take it into his study.

“Talk.” He demanded.

Ascelin sat on the fainting couch by the bookshelf and said, “Yeah, okay.”

He launched into an explanation of events that was parallel to Anastas’s own, yet… wrong. Well. Mirrored.

“Last Hunt, Ludwig assigned me some new prey,” Ascelin said, “Something called a darkbeast, that started showing up since—y’know. I was hoping to get Vasilissa's help with it, but she wasn't around, so I pulled up her address at the Church Registrar and went calling. She wasn’t around, but—” He gestured at Anastas, paused, reached up to rub his cheek. “I did get some help there for that hunt. It’s died thrice now, twice at my hand. It keeps getting back up.”

Drogomir looked disturbed at this news. Anastas sympathised — his very skin was crawling from the idea.

Drogo leaned forward. “You’re sure it’s the same one?”

“I wasn’t,” Ascelin hesitated, “But the third death. I saw-” His fingers twitched. “You remember Old Yharnam.”

“I do.” Drogomir said, “But what does that have to do with…?”

Ascelin hesitated. “Well.” He made a face. “It—seems like may be that all over again.”

Drogomir grit his jaw.

Anastas raised his hand. “Excuse me. I'm confused. What—happened in Old Yharnam?” He asked. The both of them turned to stare at him, so Anastas clarified. “I know there was an outbreak, and a lot of people died, and that the fires got out of control and destroyed most of the town. But—what does that have to do with this?”

Ascelin laughed a little. It wasn’t a happy laugh, but it was — something. Like he was recollecting a bad joke.

Drogomir looked very grim. “Everything about beasts changed in old Yharnam.” He said, voice low, “It was old Yharnam where we learned their nature.”

Anastas shifted. “I still don’t… understand…” But he’d seen the hand, and he thought-

Ascelin looked him in the eyes directly. “In old Yharnam,” He said, “We saw people turn into scourgebeasts.”

“… oh.” Anastas felt a throbbing in his head.

#

The scourge was an interesting malady. It started like a flu - weakness, cough, chills, cold sweats. Sometimes hallucinations, paranoia. There would be a low fever, and difficulty to tell whether a patient was dreaming or awake. They’d go around in a sort of haze, and many had to be strapped to their beds. It was easy to miss in drunks, because it wasn’t unlike the high that over-imbibing wrought.

Some people, especially the very young or old, or frail, would die in this stage. Some people would recover — there was debate over whether those people would be resistant to new strains of the illness. In spite of that debate, their blood was coveted as a medicine for the sick, at least among the superstitious and the snake oil peddlers.

Then there was the night sickness: the progression, or maybe a stronger strain of scourge allowed in by the first infection. The delirium would worsen, and the patients would become combative. Most died after some time in this stage, from overexciting the heart or hurling themselves from ledges and windows. Patients kept on ground level were known to escape from the house come moonrise, and be found dead leagues off from where they’d started at nightfall.

Some of them were never found at all.

Scourge beasts, it was generally accepted, were a blight on the land. What sent them down was contested. A god giving them trials to overcome, a jealous deity from the neighbouring lands. Anastas's own mother had grimly proclaimed them mera, nightmares given form.

The popular opinion in Yharnam usually held that the beasts were some fault of foreigners: either they were monsters brought in by the Outside, or they were curse to weed out the unworthy blood by Yharnam herself.

“The beasts appearing from the woods,” Ascelin said, “They’re advanced patients. Their blood turns to poison in their veins, makes them ill. Twists them.” He gave Anastas a shrewd look, and added, “I do trust you'll keep this quiet.”

Anastas’s stomach hurt. “I… the Church knows?” He asked, feeling as if the mountain was shifting under his feet, about to turn the room on end.

“Sure,” Ascelin said, “Course it knows.”

“Ascelin—” Drogomir started, but Ascelin ploughed ahead.

“It decided it would be better if things were kept quiet. Didn’t want a panic while we’re looking for a cure, and… didn’t want people taking it on themselves to handle ‘risky cases’.” His eyes glittered, and he smiled with sharp teeth. “You really shouldn’t trust Hunters, kid. We all know what we’re stalking in the night… and we do it anyway.”

Anastas pressed his back to the door and slid into a sit. “I don't understand.” He said, voice quiet. “I…”

“He really doesn’t need to know this,” Drogomir admonished.

“He does.” Ascelin interrupted again. “Because the beast I was contracted to hunt, you know, the one that won’t fucking die?” He stared at Drogo, rather than Anya, and that was almost worse because he said: “It’s come after him twice now, and it doesn’t seem willing to learn.”

Drogo put his temples in his hands and said, “Blyat.”

#

Drogomir had demanded explanations, evidence, more information. Ascelin had told him what he considered relevant, and they had called on Anastas for his memories of the night. (Spotty, overdetailed in places, strangely bare in others.)

They did not seem surprised that he could tell them more about a rat he’d jumped over and the detail’s of the beggar’s hands and gun than the corpse he thought the man had stood over, or the streets he’d run down to get away.

He thought of Ascelin saying to him, it was only a beast, and in the moment he’d thought it gentle and kind.

Something foreign, flickering and hot, stirred inside of Anastas. His fists clenched against his thighs, and he thought of a cruel smile, of half lies, of a finger pressing into his tongue until he gagged. He breathed in and out, slowly, and reminded himself that he could not act on his emotions.

“The man in my house,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. Cold, the way his sister sounded, or his mother used to, when they were preparing for some unpleasant necessity. “He killed it for you. You called him a crow. Who was he.”

Ascelin shifted, turning a look that was altogether too appraising for Anastas’s taste on him. Anastas glared, and Ascelin cracked a little secret smile.

“Hunter of Hunters. A damn crow, come to feast on carrion.” He rubbed his forehead, smile slipping. “That is…”

“Why would Hunters hunt other Hunters?” Anastas demanded, fists tightening in the material of his slacks.

Ascelin said, “Because Hunters turn into the most vicious beasts.”

… the headache worsened. Anya breathed through the worst of it, focused on the ceiling, tried to steady himself. The ground wasn’t moving. It wasn’t.

“You think the man that was in my house was there to hunt the beast, and you think the beast after me is a Hunter, turned into a scourgebeast.” He paused, then said, “You think a beast is after me at all. Why.” This defied rational thought. Anastas wasn’t a particularly appealing target by any measure he could think of, unless this was another thing connected to his sister.

“Because it… broke into your house twice?” Ascelin posited, apparently taking the question in a rather more literal sense than Anya had intended it.

“You told me you didn't know who did that!” Anastas felt his temper fraying.

“I mean, I wasn’t sure.” Ascelin admitted, “But I found this medicine by the cabinets that your sister wouldn’t touch if someone paid her, and — anyway, look at this.” He opened the box, and Anastas stared at the contents in a mixture of horror and revulsion.

Actually, so did Drogo.

“Ascelin,” Drogo said, sounding far more calm than he looked, his hands flexing open and shut like he wanted to grip someone’s throat and squeeze it. “Why did you bring a box of snakes into my house?”

“What? No, not Circe, the thing she’s on.”

Ascelin reached past the writhing, hissing mass to take out an outsized, sun-bleached skull of some massive animal. Fanged, grown too large, and yet with… a horribly flat, familiar visage for a face. It was the best argument that they were telling the truth of old Yharnam, and Anastas stared at it in a mix of revulsion and fascination.

“So anyway,” Ascelin said, “I spent today flirting with Archibald.”

The snakes came up with the skull, and did not want to release it. So really Ascelin was holding up a skull covered in furiously hissy little pit vipers, that… seemed to be fused together?

“He’s disgraced.” Drogo said, ignoring the skull to stare at the snake. Snakes? “A lunatic. And he’s not even your type. Why would you spend any time with him at all.”

“Yes, you’ll understand that’s why the Holy Blade had me deal with the darkbeast.” Ascelin agreed, “Didn’t want to inflame the passions of a scholar on a mission. But Archibald knows more about these,” He bounced the skull, whose jaw clattered, “Than anyone else I know, so I wanted to get his opinions on how to keep one down.”

“Archibald is a heretic.” Drogomir looked as if he were developing his own headache. “He’s one wrong move from being ejected from the Church entirely, and you spent the day—” He cut himself off and sighed, then held out a hand in expectation. “Let me see the skull. Without the snakes.”

Ascelin tried to detangle the furiously hissing mass, and several of the heads bit him. He didn’t seem to notice: he let out a little cheer when he wrest the snakeball free of his prize.

Then he held it out towards Anastas. “Want to hold her?”

Anastas stared at it. “I… kind of.” He admitted, off-kilter for reasons other than the entire restructuring of his world view. “Wait. Is she venomous?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you can't hold her.” Ascelin looked apologetic. “Never mind.” He took the snake back to his own chest. It continued to bite him.

“Did you at least get anything useful?” Drogo asked, examining the skull.

“Yes,” Ascelin said, smiling like a cat with a bird in its claws. “Actually.” He put the snakes back in the box. “If you destroy the bones, they don't regenerate.”

“Why did you have a mass of snakes?” Anastas asked him.

“What? To hide the skull.” Ascelin said, like it was obvious. “If someone as suspicious as me goes running through town with a black unlabelled box, my boss will be looking for me by lunchtime.” He rolled his eyes, apparently at the notion of having to explain himself to whom Anastas assumed was Ludwig the Holy Blade. There was something seriously amiss with Ascelin. Anya eyed the snakes, and amended, a lot of things are amiss.

“But if the box is hissing, no one wants to ask!” Ascelin finished, radiant with pride at his clever solution.

Anastas looked at Drogomir, who shrugged. “I wouldn't ask what he had if he hadn’t brought it in my house.” Their host admitted, existential dread painted on his face.

From the look of mixed pleasure and pride, Ascelin seemed to take this as an admittance of his own brilliance. “Now our friend, the other darkbeast? Or whatever he is that’s like one, he’s been made into ash thrice. If he comes around again,” His eyes went half-lidded, and a self-satisfied smile curled his lips. Anastas shuddered and leaned away from him.

 ‘It was Jamie.’ She replied ‘That’s his sofa. This was where he went. I- I never knew, I thought they just had a den out here.’ 

Thetis moved over to the sofa, pulling a set of gloves over her hands as she examined the sofa and the shattered remains of the bottle next to it. Nelly moved over to the table in the middle of the room, looking at the haphazardly piled schoolwork and joke plans, and the blood-spattered medical kit just next to it. The kit was torn open, icepacks, disinfectant, sterile thread and needles, everything trailing from the tiny table to the sofa and the messy pile of bedding next to the fireplace. 

 ‘This is hawthorn over here.’ Thetis said from the floor ‘Someone knew what they were doing.’

 ‘Should we call the others?’ Nelly asked as she peered into the kitchen.

 ‘No point. Annet had a dead zone set up for a good 100 metre radius around the place and we want to be out of here quickly. We can bring back a crime scene photographer later. What do you think about what happened here?’

Nelly walked back over to the sofa and forced all her compassion down into a recess. She could feel about it later, but right now she had a job to do. She looked at the stained needle and thread sticking out of the cushions, all the deep rusty bloodstains and there was only one conclusion to her.

 ‘Ashleigh wasn’t lying.’ Nelly said, tearing her eyes away from the sight ‘This has to be enough evidence for Todd and the others. It has to be.’

Thetis nodded as she stood up, moving to comfort Nelly as she stepped carefully over the broken glass.

 ‘I believe you.’ She said levelly ‘but what we really need to do is talk to the two fey involved.  Coal has spoken to a hive of Sprites and they should be bringing the boy down from the Rhymers Folly Range as we speak, but they wouldn’t say anything about the girl. They called her “Woodachre”, does that have any meaning to you?’

Nelly shook her head, thinking about the conversation she’d have to have with Wilhelm if Storm was found or Jamie caught. She might call Wilhelm’s Dad... see if she could arrange a visit, Wilhelm needed his Dad at the moment... and then there was the whole business of trying to shut down all the anti-fey sentiment, everything Jamie did was only making it worse and the Bane Squad had their hands full enough as it was. 

 ‘Stefanson don’t tune out on me now.’ Thetis said, gently waving her gloved hand in front of Nelly’s eyes. ‘We’ll do a quick search inside then we go outside, sound good to you?’

Nelly nodded numbly and together they continued the search through the house.

Nelly found the two rucksacks crammed with clothing and food in the cupboard like space that was Jamie’s room, while Thetis carefully placed Storm’s ruined dress into a plastic bag she took from the kitchen. Nelly pulled out her phone to take as many good photos of the rooms as she could, paying careful attention to the bloodstains and the metallic looking swabs half-burnt in the fireplace. The rest of the search didn’t yield as much (although Nelly did find a few missing items from the VanCharli household that Markus had been complaining about) and Thetis kept remarking on what a nice little cottage it was. They looked in all of the old secret compartments Annet had built, not finding any snippet of prophecy or tip that could help them in the long run. All there was was a copy of a prophecy Annet made that they already had on record, covered in notes and interpretations that Nelly recognised as Jamie’s. 

The search outside didn’t yield much either, although they did find a few wolfprints and a tattered scrap of grey shirt that was caught on some bramble next to the well. The fabric reeked of raw meat and wet dog. Nelly shuddered. It smelt just like the sleeve that had been left two years ago where they had found Hunter’s body, or what was left of it.

 ‘Great.’ Nelly groaned ‘I’m gonna have to send out a warning that that lunatic is wandering around again too. Come on, let’s keep moving.’

They followed the wolf prints a little deeper into the trees, to where they ended at a toppled oak tree, covered in iced over honeysuckle. The forest was still here and all the hair on the back of Nelly’s neck stood on end. There was a strange sad energy here, like the trees themselves hummed with electricity. Nelly’s teeth ached.

 ‘Something’s here...’ Thetis murmured, staring at the log. ‘Something we are not to interfere with.’

 ‘What do you mean?’ Nelly asked.

 ‘When we formed the Bane Squad we all made an agreement with the heads of the Seelie and Unseelie Court.’ Thetis said, still staring at the log. ‘We were not to disturb the catacombs beneath Mt Agog or the Rhymers Folly Range, or anything similar. They showed us what these places felt like... I’ll never forget the feeling, and this is it. Let's go back to town, now!’

Nelly took a step closer to the oak log, reaching out to it. She could see a smear of red on one of the knots that wasn’t covered in snow.

 ‘What’s that?’

 ‘Don’t touch it!’ Thetis snapped, pulling Nelly’s hand back. ‘We need to go back now!’

Nelly snatched her hand back, scowling a little at Thetis. 

 ‘Sorry, but this is my job. There’s something about this log that is odd, and may add to the case!’

Thetis shook her head angrily.

 ‘Look, I know it’s your job, but if I let you do this it could cost me more than mine! Let's go back to town, and I’ll make the coffee eh?’

Nelly sighed, taking one more long longing look at the log. There was an answer in there, she felt it in her gut. But the Bane Squad held higher authority than she did. Perhaps she would sneak back later.

 ‘Fine. But you need to explain to me why so I can put it in my report.’

 ‘Deal.’

They walked in silence, save for the crisp crunching of the snow. 

Nelly looked around. It seemed oddly quiet in the forest and she asked Thetis if this was normal.

 ‘Oh, yes.’ Thetis said quietly ‘This forest goes very quiet when there’s a monster sent over. I’m sorry we couldn’t save Martin by the way, but once a dog sets after its prey there’s nothing we can do to stop it.  How is his partner?’

 ‘She’s not coping well.’ Nelly replied ‘Todd tried to give her some bereavement time, but she wants to channel her grief into catching the fey boy. She wouldn’t listen to me about it being a bad idea.’

 ‘I can have a chat with her if you want.’ Thetis said, breath emerging in a small cloud in front of her face.

It was beginning to snow a little again, the white flakes murmuring gently through the bare branches of the trees. Nelly had always loved this time of year, particularly the afternoons after school or work where she could curl up next to the fire with a blanket and a good book, but this year felt different. It felt bleak, hopeless, like the summer would never return again.

There was a loud burst of static and both law enforcers nearly jumped clean out of their skins at the dreadful sound.

 ‘...SHIT!... This is Coal, he was JUST THERE and now he’s GONE!’ Came an incredibly irritated voice from the walkie-talkie on Thetis’s waist. They must have left the dead zone.

 ‘Hearing you loud and clear.’ Thetis responded quickly, holding up the static spitting device. ‘Where are you?’

 ‘The lowest foothill, but it’s too late Thetis, he’s one of the types that can walk between spaces. The bastard could be anywhere! The sprites weren’t lying either, he’s a firecaster and a pretty good one, but he does look very sick.’

 ‘We’ll post teams at each likely location.’  Baba’s voice echoed from the walkie-talkie ‘Please return to base location immediately so we can prepare for this evening's patrol.’

Chapter 1 – Not Mine

Present Day

Sakura

REDACTED FIRST SCENE BUT SHE IS CAPTURED 

10 months, 10 days ago

5:30 PM

Sakura

At some level, I've always felt my life was not mine.

As a child, my life had been lived for my parents, who loved me so fiercely. I'd been a miracle, they said. My mother never said so, but she had always loved kids and wanted several of her own. She'd babysit her friends' children and look at baby clothes just for fun. She volunteered at the children's wing of the hospital too. Only later would I learn my mother was afflicted with a disease rendering her infertile according to the doctors. I was a statistical anomaly and my mother's baby themed extra-curriculars were trying to fill a void that even I couldn't.

As a slightly older child, I'd lived for the sisterhood of Ino. She stood up to bullies for me and told me I was pretty. She was everything I needed and wasn't. Brave, caring, and so effervescent. If anyone truly lived for themselves, it was Ino, and I so desperately wanted to be like her.

Then, in the golden years of the academy, I met Sasuke and unwittingly gave my life to 'love'. More accurately to an unhealthy infatuation with Sasuke. What girl my age hadn't? All it cost was my relationship with my best friend, Ino, and any chance I had to be taken seriously as a ninja. Looking back, what a rip off. Girls do the stupidest things in the name of love. Hear a rumor Sasuke likes long hair? Grow your hair long even though it makes taijutsu practice a nightmare. Hear Sasuke likes delicate hands? Well, better do half hour-long skin treatments in the evening and skip out on kunai target practice whenever possible.

It wasn't until the Chunnin exams that I really realized how much I'd screwed myself. Even then, I'd doubled down on 'loving' Sasuke. When he left us, I clung to my love for him and let it motivate my life. I'd get stronger and work with a legendary Sannin myself and someday, I'd bring him home. He'd see how devoted I was throughout it all and he'd respect me for that until eventually that grew into love. We'd start a family and be together forever.

So misguided, right?

As I sit here in my office at the hospital, trying to fill out my charts from my shift, I can't help but chuckle at my own naivety. That was a dream.

And I am finally awake.

I dip my hand in to my lab coat, tracing the note there. The one I found when I 'woke up'. When I broke into Sasuke's childhood home, mourned him, and left him there with the rest of those broken dreams.

I was done with love. I was done with it running my life and I was ready to live for what I wanted. And what I wanted was my family back – my team 7 home. That meant Naruto no longer reckless and desperate for Sasuke, and for his only to focus to be on becoming Hokage. For Kakashi, to stop sulking around the village, hung up on another failure of a student.

I want to stop Sasuke from hurting my precious people. Mine not his.

But first, I want to go home, eat some takeout, and have a bubble bath because it's been a long day. Only 3 charts stand in my way.

When I finish them, I stretch my hands over my head, trying to straighten the hunch in my back from slaving over paperwork. Gathering the files, I make my way to the hallway.

"Thanks for your help today, Kanna," I hear the new girl, Ami, say to the plump, middle age nurse as they make their way toward me.

"Of course, dear. We'll done." She says with a motherly smile. Kanna notices me and gives a wave. "Ah, Sakura. Headed out for the day?"

I nod. "Sure am. I've got a hot date with some fried rice." I say smiling.

Ami looks disappointed, "Careful now. If you keep dating fried food, you'll end up like me some day." She gestures to her round figure and the comment makes me feel uncomfortable.

"If I end up being half the woman you are, I'd be quite happy with that," I say encouragingly.

"That's very flattering, dear," Kanna replies looking not the least bit flattered. "But take it from me, men taste much better than fried food. Fewer calories too."

Kanna's following wink has Ami and me turning scarlet.

"I – uh," I stutter not quite knowing what to say to that. "I'm not sure I have time for a relationship right now."

"Come now," she dismisses my excuse, "There's more to life than working at the hospital. Plus, it doesn't have to be anything serious! Women have certain needs too, you know."

Ami looks ready to faint. I decide to not so subtly change the subject.

"So, Ami, good first day then?" I say sweetly. Ami nods, smile coming back to her face.

"Yes, its been wonderful. Thank you for asking. Everyone has been really kind and helpful." She said gratefully, "Plus, it's been such a slow day-,"

"No, Ami!" Kanna interjects, "Look what you've done. You've jinxed us all!"

Ami looks surprised again and looks between me and Kanna looking for a clue to what she said wrong.

"Jinxed us?" She squeaks.

"If you learn nothing else today, remember this: never ever say 'its been a slow day'. That's how you get slammed with new intakes and stuck here until 2 am." Kanna scolds back.

"Oh, you don't really believe that, right?" Ami tries to laugh off the mistake. She throws a pleading look to me, like I'll be more reasonable. "That's just an old wives' tale."

I just shrug and say, "I'm sorry, but she's right. Its been scientifically proven. I even had my intern last year do a study and the findings were actually-,"

I was cut off by the slam of doors flying open at the end of the hall. Three nurses pushed a stretcher toward us, voices breaking the quiet.

"Here, take these to the record room," I say shoving my charts into Ami's arms. She looks shocked white. "Kanna, you're with me."

"Yes, ma'am." She says, shooting a mild glare at Ami before following me to commotion.

As I arrive, recognize that woman on the stretcher immediately and suppress the emotional response that spikes up. It's Kurenai-sensei.

I note one nurse is holding hemostatic gauze to her chest while another tries to attach a blood-pressure cuff. The third is driving the stretcher, reporting her heartrate states from the EKG. I turn to him and say, "What are we dealing with here?"

"Haruno-san," He looks relieved, "Puncture wound to the chest, possible internal bleeding in the abdomen. Heart rate is dropping, but doesn't appear to be damaged from the puncture wound."

"Poison?" I ask.

"No, it was a training exercise." He answers. Good, that makes things easier.

"Head to surgical room 5. Kanna, take the puncture wound. Stop the bleeding," I announce and turn to the nurse struggling with the BP cuff, "Get me those BP stats, ASAP."

I don't wait for her confirmation and order administration of an anti-coagulant before pressing a charka gloved hand onto Kurenai's abdomen. It's not good.

There's massive internal hemorrhaging crushing her insides. It thrums with each pump of her heart. Something else as is thrumming as well. A flutter like a hummingbird's wings smothered underneath the blanket of blood.

"Stop the coagulant!" I cry, eyes flying open, "She's pregnant."

*

Sakura

10:30 pm

While it's not quite 2 am when we finish, the surgery takes me well past the end of my shift. We got Kurenai-sensei stabilized with no harm to her child, but it wasn't easy. I'm dead on my feet, as is the rest of my staff.

I address Kanna as we disrobe out of our PPE, "Let's keep her 3 days for observation. I want to make sure the baby is alright. She appears stable now, but sometimes there's delayed trauma that can terminate."

Kanna nods, "I'll tell the attending right away."

I smile weakly, "Thanks Kanna."

"Now go home! You're late for your date." She says winking. I laugh.

"See, isn't it lucky I don't have some poor guy waiting on me? This is why I don't date." I joke.

This time her smile is full of pity and I regret making the joke at all.

"Haruno-san?" An aid named Daichi calls into the surgical room, head swiveling until he finds me by the sinks. I wave him over.

"There's a young man pacing in the waiting room. Shikamaru Nara, I think. He came in with the patient." He says. Its customary for the attending physician to give an update once patents have stabilized, but as he looks me up and down taking in the exhausted expression on my face and my hunched shoulders, he asks, "Should I send a nurse for an update?"

If she hadn't know Shikamaru personally, she would have readily agreed, but this kind of news was better coming from a friend.

"Not necessary, Daichi," I answer, "Shikamaru's a friend. I'll see to him as soon as I'm finished here."

He nods and leaves.

Kanna elbows me in the side, "Looks like you might have a date after all."

I roll my eyes at her yell, "Go home, Kanna!" over my shoulder as I leave to the waiting room.

When I arrive, Shikamaru is easy to spot. As Daichi said, he's pacing back and forth I the rear of the waiting room, his spiky ponytail bobbing with each turn. I don't think I've ever seen him so worked up.

I call to him as I approach, and it startles him out of his state of worry.

"Sakura!" he says, "Is Kurenai alright? Tell me everything's alright."

I give him my best reassuring smile and say, "Yes, she's stable Shikamaru. It was a tough surgery, but she's a fighter."

People love to hear that their loved ones are 'fighters' I've noticed. It gives them some feeling of control over something that is so often uncontrollable. Shikamaru was no different as he relaxed slightly.

"And the baby?" He asks. This surprises me. How did Shikamaru know this before I did? I may socially live under a rock here at the hospital, but if news like that was public knowledge, then Ino would have called me right away to gossip. Then I remembered Kurenai's chart. The emergency contact listed as Asuma Sarutobi, crossed out with Shikamaru's name and number listed below. Asuma had entrusted Kurenai and her child with Shikamaru, it seemed.

"The baby is also stable," I say and his shoulders finally go slack as he collapses into one of the plastic chairs lining the walls. I slide into the one next to him and continue, "We need to keep her here under observation for a few days. Sometimes there is a delayed response to acute trauma and the child's condition turns for the worse. We're closely monitoring her and the baby to make sure this doesn't happen."

Shikamaru nods, and it seems he's only half listening to my words.

"Can I see her?" He asks, but I shake my head.

"No visitors until morning. I'm sorry, but she needs to rest right now." I say. He just drops his head in his hands and takes a deep breath.

"I really screwed up, Sakura." He whispers. I place a hand on his arm.

"Don't beat yourself up. Everything's fine. Kurenai's fine." I try to reassure him.

He looks up at me, eyes holding a strange reverence I've never seen from him.

"I owe you one, Sakura." He says. Now that she had heard before. She almost says 'its nothing', but it isn't nothing.

"I'll send you this bill later, then, okay?" I say with another soft smile.

"I'm serious," He says, upset by my joking tone. "A life debt. I owe you a life debt."

Coming from someone like Shikamaru, I know he's serious, but that weight behind his words and the look on his face have me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. This is just my job, and I don't keep tallies for wins, loses or debts. The scales never quite even out when I do.

"How about we just start with a drink?" I say lightly. "I think we both could use one."

Shikamaru

10:45 PM

I've never really enjoyed the company of Sakura Haruno. She'd always been lumped into the under-achieving, Sasuke loving fan club that was too much of a headache to pay attention to. Instead, he was force fed all his updates about her from Ino. There was constantly something to be up in arms about but never anything of real importance. Mostly he equated her presents to a fruit fly buzzing around in his periphery. Annoying, but easy to ignore.

He remembered the first time he was impressed with a Sakura related update. After Sasuke left, she had landed an apprentice with the legendary Tsunade herself. Other than that, he hadn't really given her a second thought.

But when he heard her call his name in the waiting room, all the little bits of information jealously relayed through Ino added up to one single emotion – relief. Sakura had made something of herself and Shikamaru didn't know what he would have done had she not been there.

As they entered a late-night food stall with excellent Takoyaki and Sake, he was once again reminded of how little he really knew about Sakura. The old Sakura would have chattered away, filling any silence she could with inconsequential self-centered information which would eventually lead back to Sasuke. But this Sakura wasn't like that at all.

She had been mostly quiet during the walk over, beginning with some additional facts about Kurenai's condition which he only half understood. Then sensing his disengagement with the subject, she asked if he a favorite food stands he like to visit.

Which led them here.

The sake comes first, and I drain one saucer, then two. It steadies my nerves just as he hoped. I feel her eyes on me, but Sakura doesn't comment. Instead, I see her lift her saucer in a 'cheers' motion before draining it as I had. She smiles until her stomach grumbles loudly and she her face goes red.

"Sorry – I haven't eaten since lunch!" She explains. "My shift was supposed to be over at 6:00 and I was going to grab dinner but then, um, you know." I nod sparing her.

"You forget Chouji's my best friend. I'm used to hearing that sounds every hour on the hour."

"I'm not sure being compared to Chouji really makes me feel any better." She says carefully, with a laugh.

"Well, I'd compare you to Ino, but I'd probably get punched for it later." I say and she laughs again.

Our Takoyaki comes, just as I feel myself loosening up a little. It feels like I'm talking to a stranger and I've never been good at small talk. It doesn't seem to matter though, because Sakura is fully fixated on the food in front of her, popping the first Takoyaki in her mouth with a groan.

"This is either the best Takoyaki in the village, or I'm way more famished than I thought" She says.

"Hunger is the best seasoning," I say lamely. She doesn't make fun of me like I expect though.

"Is that another Chouji thing?" She asks, "He might be far wiser than we ever believed."

I chuckle a bit at that. She's kind of funny, and the light-heartedness is exactly what I need right now.

"Please never tell him that. I would totally go to his head and I don't need any more self-confidence on my team." I say.

"Right, I think Ino has enough for all three of you," She says, understanding my reference right away.

I grunt in agreement and take a bite.

She waits until she halfway through her plate before saying, "So, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in forever."

"Mostly doing paperwork for the Hokage. It appears I'm her lap dog now." I say more sarcastically than bitter. It occurs to me that being the Hokage's apprentice, that's probably something Sakura already knew. Just like she also knows I'm off field work for the next month for bereavement after Asuma's passing.

"I know how that feels," Sakura commiserates. "What does she have you working on?"

This Sakura must also already know but I answer anyway, "Mostly doing analysis on upcoming Chunin. I go over their strengths and weakness, then make recommendations on training routines to help round them out. I also suggest team assignments for mission requests, but I think this is mostly an exercise in mentoring the younger generation."

She makes a thoughtful sound then says, "That doesn't sound like something you'd be very into."

I raise an eyebrow at her and she adds, "Not saying you wouldn't be great at it! Just seems like you wouldn't be into mentoring is all."

I ponder this for a moment and realize Sakura is probably dealing with the same challenges I am, trying to reconcile the lazy, reclusive boy with the person Shikamaru is now.

"I actually like it better than I thought I would." I explain, "Asuma-sensei actually taught me that the next generation is what's worth protecting and shaping them is our duty as Jonin."

"Well, I think he'd be proud of what you're doing her Shikamaru." She says encouragingly. I fiddle with the empty cup in my hand and blanch at the sappiness of it. Somethings haven't changed, I guess.

"What about you?" I change the subject, "how is the hospital?"

I expect her to smile and gush about how great it is working for the Hokage and saving lives, but she doesn't.

"Its…Its good." She finally says. "Its rewarding, but I miss field work and going out with a team, you know? Its just a little lonely training by myself."

"That's right, Naruto's back out with Jiraiya." I suddenly feel a little like an ass for talking so much about my team.

"Yeah, but don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for him." She says, "Its such a great opportunity and he needs to do it."

I nod.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is I wish I got out of the hospital more. I get a lot of flak from the older nurses for not having a social life or a boyfriend." She rambles a little bit, showing some signs of discomfort at having to explain herself.

I have no interest in talking about her dating life so I say, "Do you feel like you've peeked at the hospital then?"

"Exactly!" She looks relieved, "I feel like there's nothing more to learn there, but I'm stuck. I just want to move on to the next chapter like Naruto and…" Sasuke. She doesn't say it but I know that's what she's thinking.

"And I just need to, like, move on," She finishes instead.

I just nodded and take another drink. Its not clear if she's talking about moving on from the hospital or Sasuke at this point. Either way, I'm not good with advice, so I don't say anything. There's a few moments of silence before Sakura turns to me again with a look of excitement that has me instantly on guard. It's the same look Ino has before she forces him to do something reckless and utterly troublesome.

"Do me," Sakura says, her eyes lighting up. I sit up, a blush spreading across my cheeks.

"I'm – um, what?" I stammer.

"Do me," Sakura says with more conviction, "So I can get unstuck and move on."

I tug at my collar a bit, my throat feeling a little tight, "Look I'm sorry if I've sent you some mixed signals here, but I'm not interested in a hook-up and I don't think that's a healthy way for you to 'move on'."

This time Sakura stiffens with a blush.

"What?" she exclaims, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind, going over what she's said again, "No. No, no, no." She said waving her hands in front of her as if clearing the air of an unpleasant smell.

"I meant, analyze me. Like you do for the chunin you mentor." She clarifies, unable to look me in the eye.

"Oh - well, sure." I said quickly, turning into my drink to avoid eye contact as well. Normally I'd be annoyed at a request like this, but anything to change the subject from a drunken hook-up with Sakura Haruno.

"What are your goals?" I ask quickly. She takes a beat to catch up with the misdirection, then responds.

"To bring Sasuke back home," She answers. She doesn't ponder, but that doesn't surprise me. Though a lot has changed, I understand that this fundamental part of who Sakura is probably never will. I imagine that phrase constantly running in the back of her mind until it fades into the subconscious like the sound of your own heartbeat.

"What a surprise," I drawl sarcastically. Her eyes narrow as I've obviously hit a nerve, but she waits for me to continue. "And how do you plan to achieve that goal?"

Her certainty stutters. "Well, I have to get stronger. Strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Naruto and Sasuke. Then we can bring him home together and be a team again."

I want to bang my head against the table at how unrealistic this idea was. This was going to be harder than I thought. Still better than talking about her dating life, I remind myself. Also, somehow this is much better than the niceties and small talk from before.

"Okay, but how will you bring him home?" I reiterate.

"I just told you," She says annoyed.

"No, what you told me is an intention or an idea. I want details. What are your steps to achieving that idea? What's your plan?" I continue.

She sits there for a few seconds, waffling. "Um, I-I'm not sure."

I raise an eyebrow, "I find that hard to believe. You've been obsessing about this for over 2 years."

"I haven't been obsessing, okay? I've been training. That's my plan. I'm getting stronger, so I don't get left behind anymore by them" She replies.

"That's a good first step." I conceded, trying to placate her a little. Last thing I need is her getting too worked up, punching me in the gut and storming off leaving me with the bill. I try a different approach, "When you imaging bringing Sasuke home, what does it look like? What happens?"

Her cheeks turn pink again, and she starts with what I assume is a heavily edited daydream.

"Well, usually there are two scenarios. In one, Sasuke comes home on his own, having escaped Orochimaru after realizing that snake only wanted him as a vessel and that the only real way to defeat Itachi is with me by his side." Her eyes were focused in the distance, far away from reality. "And Naruto! I mean. Not, um, just me by his side. With Team 7 by his side." She corrects.

I struggle to keep from rolling my eyes. I was totally right about the daydream.

"The second, Naruto and I find Sasuke in the sound village. We try to convince him to come home, but he doesn't listen, and we fight. With two against one, we eventually ware him down, and offer him another chance to come home. He realizes he was wrong about cutting his bonds and accepts. Or we just kick his ass and drag him back." She finishes with a self-satisfied smile.

What a fairytale, rose-colored, underdeveloped plan. A fantasy and nothing more. I am in over my head. Telling her as much would certainly land him with a broken bone or two, so he redirected her.

"Okay, let's focus on the second scenario. I think we can both agree that this is the more likely of the two." I start. She looks like she does not agree, but I continues anyway, "There are two things to consider further. How do you get to the start of this encounter and what happens after. Let's start with the start. In this scenario, how do you get to find Sasuke in the sound village?"

"On a retrieval mission from Tsunade-Sama," She answers. Of course, she would pick the most by the book option.

"And who normally goes on retrieval missions for missing-nin?" I ask, not missing a beat.

"Well, that depends on the missing-nin and what skillset is needed" She says stubbornly, but she knows what I'm getting at.

"What rank, Sakura?" I say, not giving her an out this time.

"ANBU black ops. Hunter-nin." She answers, but quickly adds, "But this is different. Tsunade would make an exception. Naruto has the nine-tails and she trained me herself, so-,"

"Even if she wanted to," I cut in, "She couldn't make that exception. The council wouldn't let her."

Sakura doesn't answer, but she frowns telling me she knows this is true.

"If you wanted to get the mission legally, you'd have to be accepted into ANBU and then petition Tsunade to grant you the mission." I explain.

Sakura's mind snagged on one word, "Legally?"

I nod. "That's the only legal way for you to get assigned such a mission. The other option is to defect, become a missing-nin yourself."

"No," She refuses, "that's out of the question." I nod again, unsurprised by her stubborn rejection.

"Then you're looking at one to two years to build up mission requirements to enter the Jonin exams. You have to pass on the first go, a 50% probability given passing rates of the exam. Then, a minimum of 3 years to get noticed for recommendation to ANBU. For those not from a clan and with no kekkei genkai, it's more likely double that. Total, it'd be at least 7 years before you could go after him with the village's approval." I finish.

"I can't wait that long!" She exclaims, "We only have a year left before Orochimaru takes Sasuke as his vessel. It has to be before then."

I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender, "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just stating the facts here."

"I know," She is quiet a long moment. "I know."

I finish off my drink, pouring another sake for myself and topping off Sakura's. Her plate is finished, and she's fiddling with her chop sticks. I can see she's struggling with what I've laid out. I get it. She didn't want to defect and turn her back on her home, family and friends. Sasuke had nothing to lose when he left Konoha behind, but Sakura had everything.

"I'm not afraid to work for it, but," She trailed off, killing her full glass before continuing. "I want nothing more than to help Naruto bring him back, but I can't throw everything away. I want to be strong enough to put everything I have on the line for the people I love, but I can't. I can't go down the same path as Sasuke without somehow becoming him, or at least letting him control my life again, you know?"

I don't fully get that but nod anyway. I can tell she is feeling the sake now, because her words are more rapid and smear together a little.

I take another long drink from my glass before laying out the plan that I find most optimal.

"There is one more way," I say, not looking at her. "It's still difficult and with the one year time limit, you might be cutting it close. Its not exactly legal either, but if you pulled it off, you wouldn't be labeled a missing-nin."

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye to find her hanging on my every word.

"As you are now, a chunin, it's extremely rare to go on solo missions. Even if you do get one, its only for a day or two and very close to the boarder. For Jonin, however, its not uncommon to have a month-long solo mission in remote countries like Wave or Sound. I'd say about 30% of current A-rank missions meet these criteria." I state.

She nods, "So, what's your point?"

"If you were to make Jonin, and get assigned to one of these, it would be possible to take a," I search for the appropriate word, "- detour to find him. Given the timeframe and location of the mission, that would be easy to cover up by reporting a slightly different version of the events. Say Sasuke ran into you and you had to engage him. At that point, it's required to attempt to bring him back as long as it doesn't jeopardize the primary mission. The only person who would refute you would be Sasuke, but I doubt they'd put much stock into what he has to say." I say.

"Shikamaru, that's brilliant!" Sakura gushed. "I'd be able to bring him back without leaving the village."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It's not that easy," I try to temper her joy. "There's still a lot of unknowns and things that could go wrong to get there."

Sakura isn't deterred, "As long as I work my hardest, I can get there. Or at least I'll know I did everything I could."

I let out a laugh, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'work smarter not harder'?"

"Yes, and I get the feeling that's your nindou, Shikamaru." She teased.

"Something like that." I mutter, feinting slightly that I'm put out.

"I'll need your help then, Shikamaru." She says with sudden soberness. "If I'm going to pull this off, I need you to help me strategize. To see the obstacles in my way and help me think of ways around them."

"Absolutely not," I say, without hesitation, "This is a fun little exercise, but that's all. You aren't seriously considering it?" I say, but the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I know full well she is taking every word I've said tonight at face value.

"I am, and I'm not drunk enough to be convinced otherwise." She says, "But you seem to be forgetting something. You owe me a favor." Her grin is positively Cheshire.

"This is a little much –," I protest.

"You said a life debt. This is well within that definition. You are helping me save Sasuke's life." She counters.

"And you are also forgetting something," I remind her, more force behind my words this time. "We've only gone over half the story. These are the events leading up to you confronting Sasuke. What are you going to do afterward? I don't see a lot of positive outcomes here, Sakura."

"Then explain it to me." She says, not backing down.

I sign a longsuffering sigh, knowing I'm going to regret this later. More than I already do.

"Sasuke isn't going to come back to the village by force. Even if you, how did you put it, 'kick his ass and drag him back', as soon as he is well enough, he will leave again. Even if he didn't, you wouldn't be a team again because he will most likely be imprisoned for some time, then on a probationary period as a genin. Probably capped at chunin rank for life."

Sakura carefully considers my words. "You're right."

That surprises me, probably the first time she's agreed with me all night.

Sakura continues, "Unless he comes willingly, there's no point in forcing him back, but I don't care about the probation. Naruto is willing to wait as long as it takes to be a team again. Even if we don't go on missions anymore, we can still be a team. We can still be together."

My initial reaction is to groan. Just sappy. Totally sappy. But, I give it a moment to sink in and think about my own team. They are a family and if I was in Sakura's shoes, I'd probably feel the same.

"Fair enough," I grunt. "What a drag. Persuading him to come back would be ten times harder than using force. It might even be impossible."

"Come on, Shika. Nothing's impossible with your mind on the case." She said a little too sweetly.

"Shika?" I wince, "If you're trying to butter me up, that's not going to work. You were better off your original approach– emotional blackmail."

Even with the duplicitous tone, her smile is genuine. It stops my heart for just a beat. Her cheeks are still rosy from the drink, hair tied back in a messy knot that leaves carefree strands swinging around her face, and her jade eyes sparkle.

I can't remember the last time I'd seen such a look on her, or anyone's face for that matter, directed at me. I'd seen her smile though tears often enough, and though I'd never say it to her face, she is an ugly crier. There was the exhausted but satisfied smile as she left the hospital. Also, a sterile, polite smile she gives to acquaintances or strangers as they passed in the Hokage's office. Even the comforting, professional smile of a doctor reassuringly delivering Kurenai's progress report. Never this.

This is lightning across her face - lighting up with unadulterated excitement and crackling with conspiratorial comradery that bordered on flirtation. Was it her one hundred percent focus on me, the way she was hanging on my every word, or the proximity in the tiny food stand that has me feeling drawn in by her? I strangely want to lean closer and –

"Better than slapping you across the head until you help me!" She says in an innocent, sing song voice. (AN: GOD I HATE THAT LINE. OH WELL)

And there it goes.

"God damn it, Sakura! Don't even joke about that," I say, pulling away from her as much as the seat will allow. She just laughs and waves off the joke.

"One way or another, I know you love to strategize, Shikamaru." She says, mercifully using my full name. "This might be enough of a challenge to catch your interest even without blackmail."

"Don't count on it. You forget how lazy I am, and this sounds like too much work to be bothered." I say brushing her off.

"Humor me here. How would you do it? How would you convince him to come back?" She says, tone coming back to serious again.

I think quietly for a minute. Then another.

"Don't fall asleep on me," She says, impatient.

"I'm thinking, woman," I snap.

"Then think out loud." She replies. I mutter 'troublesome women' under my breathe but comply with her request.

"From Sasuke's perspective, he left for revenge on Itachi, or rather strength to carry out the revenge. He won't want to come home until this is complete. He's made it clear several times that he's discarded his bonds and even Naruto couldn't convince him otherwise. So, any offers to help him will be disregarded."

"Well, obviously," Sakura says with a little too much force. I ignore her tone.

"The easiest course would be to wait until he's completed his revenge and confront him then." I conclude.

"We can't wait that long," Sakura counters, "Naruto will want him home before Orochimaru tries to use him as a vessel."

"Honestly, if I were Sasuke, I'd be planning to kill Orochimaru the second I surpass him, well before Orochimaru tries anything." I say candidly.

"Yes," Sakura gasps, "He wouldn't just turn over. He'd fight."

"Exactly. Sasuke's smart and wouldn't trust Orochimaru to kill Itachi after the body transfer is complete." I add on. "Let's assume this is the case."

"We can't," She interjects, "I want to believe Sasuke could kill Orochimaru, but what if he fails. Naruto would want to be there to help him."

"I don't think that's wise. You'll just be two more people Sasuke is trying to fight." I respond.

Sakura lets out a frustrated huff, "Then why don't we just kill Itachi ourselves?"

Even though I'm sure she said it sarcastically, I dismiss the idea. "I don't think that's an option either. Too big a risk he'd just hate you guys forever and never return home. Even if we framed it on someone else, he would just have a new target."

"What are you trying to say then? That waiting is the only option and I should just give up?" She raises her voice a little too loud and the stall owner shoots a glance our way. I give him a smile back that says 'everything's fine here' and he turns away again.

I lean forward and say quietly, "Yes, that's exactly what I said in the beginning, but you wouldn't accept that."

When this doesn't change her expression, he continues, "There is one more thing I can think of, but you'll never go for it and neither would I."

I wait for her to say something and after a moment she prompts, "Well? Let's hear it!"

"We could offer Naruto as bait if he leaves. You could help lure Itachi to Sasuke since we know Akatsuki is after the nine-tails," I'm practically whispering. This is not something I should even be saying out loud.

"No," she whispers sharply, understanding the gravity of the idea. "How could you even think that?"

"I warned you that you wouldn't like it," I grumble, "I'm just trying to show you how few options you have here, and that the ones left aren't favorable. You will have to get your hands dirty here Sakura. One way or another."

She hisses out a breath, "I know. But I won't give up until I find a way to do this as clean as possible. I won't throw away my future for Sasuke anymore. I don't want to betray the village or Naruto for this."

"I know," I say with a sympathetic look. "I get it, I really do. But until we get more information or think of a way to convince Sasuke to give up his revenge, there's no way forward."

"More information…to convince him," Sakura mumbles, and dips a hand in the pocket of her coat. The pulls a piece of folded paper out, but doesn't open it. She mumbles something under her breath he can't quite catch.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I can do it." Sakura says with resolve. She grabs the paper and gestures with it, "I can get more information to convince him to give it up. I think I have a lead. I just need time,"

"Sakura, as you've said multiple times this evening, we don't have time here." I say sarcastically. That and I'm quite certain there is no new information out there to convince the only man more bull headed than Naruto to abandon his lifelong mission of revenge.

"Okay, fine. Here's the deal," She says, squaring up with me on her stool, "You be my mentor and help me strategize to get into the next Jonin exams. We agreed this was the first step regardless of what we plan to do after the confrontation with Sasuke. While I train, I'll keep looking for more information, for something big enough to convince him to stay. Once I have it, I'll do as you said and slip away during a long solo mission nearby the Sound Village. With whatever 'emotional blackmail' I uncover, I confront him and do my best to convince him to come home." She explains.

It was a terrible, awful plan. There were way to many what-ifs to be reliable. I pick one hole and probe.

"And if you don't find more information to convince him?" I ask, with no confidence that something like that exists.

"Then you win, and we wait Sasuke out. We monitor what he's up to and intercept him after he's finished with Itachi if he doesn't come back on his own." She reasoned. "No harm done if I get a promotion out of it anyway. And it will make it easier to track his movements, should it come to that." She tacks on at the end.

There is a tense moment as I mull over her words. Not like I really had a choice, here. I did owe this woman a life debt.

"Alright, deal." I grumble finally, "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

Sakura lets out a relieved, heady laugh, and throws her arms around me with so much force, I'm almost knocked off my bar stool.

"Thank you!" She breaths out, pulling back. My cheeks grow warm, surprised by her outburst and the sudden physical contact. "Let's get me promoted!"

Bastian’s stare was firm, his stiff jaw set. This wasn’t the affable Bastian she was used to; this Bastian could and would stare her down. She looked away then back up at Lucio, hoping that her other friend would back her up.

“He’s right,” Lucio told her quietly. His voice was muffled slightly, having taken out the cochlear implant on his right side. The battery needed to be changed and some of the internal mechanisms needed to be cleaned and inspected; this is what he did while they spoke.

Trying not to pout – she hated feeling her age around them – Hana looked away. “Comfort is one thing; codependence is another,” Bastian informed her through his speech board. He hated using it and only did it if he had something he believed really needed to be said.

When she looked back up at him, his eyes were concerned – and sympathetic.

She looked away again. “I don’t have anyone else,” she muttered stubbornly. “And he always looks so sad.”

“Doing it out of pity is worse than sincerity,” Bastian told her. The computer didn’t have any inflection in its synthetic voice but her friend’s expression was kind. He nudged her gently with the prosthesis he was more often wearing on his left hand. It had been years, he had admitted once, since he’d worn it but he figured that now was as good a time as any.

Hana hadn’t been sure what that meant but she knew better than to ask.

She crossed her arms sullenly across her chest, no longer caring if she looked like a pouting child; her friends had never treated her as such. “I’m not insincere,” she protested. “But…”

“You both experienced loss,” Lucio said quietly. “But leaning on each other means that you’ll never be able to stand on your own.”

Hana sighed.

Since Hanzo had left, she and Jesse had been spending a lot of time together. He hovered over her and she over him; more than once she’d found herself waking in the middle of the night, putting on her prosthetics, and sneaking into his room.

“I’m afraid that he’s going to leave me too,” Hana whispered. It sounded harsher than she intended as her teeth were gritted as she tried to hold back tears. “And he looks like a ghost. I don’t think I’ve seen him really smile in weeks.”

“No,” Bastian agreed through his speech board.

Lucio looked up. “You know that logically he will not willingly leave you,” he told her gently. “Nor will we.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Lucio was in his mid-twenties and Bastian was actually close to Hanzo in age. They looked young for their ages and especially in the case of Bastian, their aging was obscured by the injuries they had sustained. Despite their apparent handicaps, both had hinted to her that they were capable of leaving Watchpoint but had remained because they had seen no reason for them to do so.

She peered at Lucio who smiled kindly at her. Not that she had ever seen him unkind but he always seemed especially sweet to her. But she knew that it was a very slippery slope to follow that train of thought. He was nearly three times her age – would be exactly next April – and he wasn’t interested in her in that way nor was she in him, not really.

But she loved him dearly – as she did Bastian – though even in her own mind she couldn’t fully explain their strange relationship.

“I know,” she said with a heavy sigh. “But I’m still afraid.”

Bastian did the drumming exercise Pums hounded him for with his prosthetic hand. His prosthetic fingers – not padded with silicone or another sort of false flesh, Hana had always been curious to note – taped in a ripple from pinky to thumb and back; it was as much an exercise as an absent sort of habit he did while he thought.

Tap tap-tap tap sh-tap. Sh-tap tap-tap-tap tap.

Forward and back, back and forward. Lucio hummed an absent minded melody. “Logic has no place here,” Lucio said at last; Bastian grunted. They traded meaningful glances and not for the first time Hana wondered how long they had been friends if they were so able to speak to each other without using words.

“Just something to think about,” Lucio said and began reassembling his implants. Bastian began rolling up his speech board, packing it up into a neat little packet that Hana had always marveled at.

Movie? Bastian suggested in his odd form of sign language.

That night, Hana dreamt.

She watched her mother’s body be lowered into the ground. No...it had been thrown in like a careless child’s doll. Her arms had slapped against the edges of the grave. On its own the pile of dirt beside it rose in the air and began filling the hole.

Like some kind of demented plant an elaborate headstone rose out of the ground. Words carved themselves into the stone:

Song Ha-Yun

Dead after taking her daughter to Broadway.

Happy birthday.

A lump rose in her throat.

Beside it, another grave formed, and then another and another. People walked or limped or dragged themselves along the ground to the other graves: Hanzo, Jesse, Aimi, Genji, Rishi, on and on.

One by one they fell into their graves, staring accusingly at her and in their wakes headstones rose.

She woke up.

There was no one in the kitchen of her spacious suite and having grown up closely with Aimi and her mother, it was still such a strange concept of living alone...more or less. She crept out of the kitchen, then out the front door.

Her suite opened to the ground floor of the Barracks in a far corner away from the common areas. It was closest to the back stairway that most people forgot about and allowed her access to the second floor that way. The head of the stairs poked up equidistant between Hanzo’s actual room and the one he shared with Jesse.

With a sigh, she leaned against the railing on the second floor. There were virtually no windows on the interior of the Barracks on the second floor, as the space was almost entirely taken up by the living quarters. Each door was illuminated by a soft light, set high near the ceiling to keep too much light from peeking beneath the doors. For the sake of zoning and safety and such, there were a few alcoves that sported large windows and it was in one of these nooks that Hana hid herself. Before she had questioned why there would be comfortable chairs but now she was glad for them, unclasping the prosthetics from her knees and curling up on the large chair.

Just as she was beginning to nod off she felt heavy footsteps from down the hall.

The big bodybuilder Aleksandra Zaryanova (or Zaryanova Aleksandra? Hana wasn’t sure) rounded the corner to her alcove and peered at her through the light of the moon as it peeked through the glass window behind her.

“You *** up late,” Zaryanova observed and there was just enough light to see her lips and read the gist of what she said. “*** * join you?”

Hana wiggled until she was able to sit upright. “Am I in your spot?” she asked, trying to be quiet but it was difficult without her cochlear implants.

The other woman flinched - so she wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was - and tapped her ear with a sausage-sized finger. Hana shook her head. Why are you up so late? Zaryanova signed, her massive fingers surprisingly deft and sure in their motions. May I join you for a bit?

Hana nodded and tried to gesture for the other woman to take the seat she occupied. Zaryanova waved it off and curled herself up on the ground at Hana’s knees...or where they would be if they were still there. To her amusement, she was large enough that her head still came up to her collarbones.

Dreams, she signed vaguely.

Zaryanova’s mouth opened in the ubiquitous sign (and sound) for surprised understanding. Good or bad?

Why would I be awake if it was good?

Good dreams can be as painful as bad ones are terrifying, Zaryanova replied.

Hana wiggled in her seat. They sat in silence (ha!) for a while and to Hana’s surprise, she realized that Zaryanova had brought a book with her. Is this your spot?

Not really, the woman replied simply. But I come here when it’s too cold to go outside or if there is snow on the roof.

Craning her head, Hana looked toward the window. It had been almost three weeks since the last time it had snowed and it was unusually mild in this area - so Hana had been told - for mid-March. Is there ice? It’s not too cold to go out.

Your “too cold” and my “too cold” are two very different things, Zaryanova said with a hook-lipped smile. But there wasn’t any ice last night when I was out there. Did you want me to leave you alone?

I was just wondering why you were here, Hana admitted.

Zaryanova tapped her ear and Hana made a face. You weren’t too loud, she assured the girl. But it’s very quiet this late at night and your left leg rattles.

It wasn’t something she thought anyone noticed but she supposed that if Zaryanova had been awake and hiding in this corner, she may have heard Hana wandering around late at night. Fortunately, Zaryanova didn’t seem to be too much of a mind to scold her - what is a kid like you doing awake so late? Why haven’t you been taking care of your prosthetics properly? - and simply sat quietly against the wall.

I’ve never been to the roof, Hana signed hesitantly after waving to get Zaryanova’s attention.

The woman smiled, making the scar across her eye tilt on her face. You will need warmer gear, she said. You are welcome to borrow mine - my room is closer.

With a short detour, Zaryanova draped obnoxious amounts of winter clothes over Hana’s much smaller body and helped Hana out to the rooftop balcony. Zaryanova went first to help Hana out and fussed just enough to make sure Hana was comfortable and not able to fall off the roof before settling beside her.

Hana wiggled until she freed an arm to tug Zaryanova’s sleeve. Bafflingly, despite it being far colder, she was only in a long-sleeved shirt and a vest. She seemed immune to the cold, not at all bothered by it even when her body came in contact with the cold flooring of the rooftop balcony. Zaryanova didn’t quite smile but her expression was less intimidating than normal.

I’m afraid, she signed hesitantly.

Do you want to share?

Hana hesitated again. Zaryanova wasn’t Jesse - she had always been there but she hadn’t been someone with which she associated with comfort despite her rather gentle nature.

We are family here, Zaryanova signed, her face softening. Family helps each other. If I can, let me help you.

So Hana told her about her dreams, about climbing in bed with Jesse, how she was afraid that one day he won’t be there for her. She told her about her talk with Bastian and Lucio and Zaryanova wrinkled her nose.

I suppose they are right, Hana finished.

Zaryanova shrugged. Not my place to say so either way, she replied. But I can see that they are only concerned about you.

Looking out over the depressingly barren fields, Hana sighed just to watch her breath mist on the air in front of her. She hoped that she never lost her quiet appreciation of it. I feel empty, she said, twisting back to face Zaryanova. Like everything I had ever known is gone.

Maybe it is, Zaryanova suggested unhelpfully. But there’s nothing wrong with that - when the path before you has disappeared, you need to make your own.

Hana frowned at her. Jesse said something like that. He said that Hanzo was off walking a path that he couldn’t follow.

Jesse is occasionally wise.

She looked down and toyed with her fingers. The small headlamp that Zaryanova brought along cast a soft golden glow where it was trained to illuminate her book. She reached out into the cold air to tap Zaryanova’s shoulder again. If the woman was annoyed that she was interrupted from her reading, she gave no sign.

What should I do?

Zaryanova regarded her. Find your own path, she suggested. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t occasionally intersect ours.

Ours?

The woman gave another hook-lipped smile. Ours. We are all family here. We will always be there to support our family in whatever way we can.

When Hana shivered, Zaryanova obligingly lifted one of her massive arms and allowed her to tuck herself against her side. She must have fallen asleep but Zaryanova had far from left her there for she woke up in her own bed, her prosthetics removed, and a large blanket that wasn’t hers draped over her.

She didn’t see Zaryanova until dinner, but everyone she encountered seemed to go out of their way for her. Ana gave her a sachet of lavender and sage for a hot bath, claiming that she was testing out a new recipe. In the afternoon, Gabe took her to Junkertown and she tottered around with Jamie and learned how to care for chickens and geese. They promised that if she was willing and able to wake up early the next morning, she could help them milk the cows and goats and one lone camel that glared from behind its double-walled enclosure.

So time passed.

Hana learned that she wasn’t the only one that woke up at odd hours for strange reasons. It wasn’t always Zaryanova, either: she’d caught Angela on a studying binge, Reinhardt with a peculiar haunted look in his expressive eyes, and of course Jesse, Bastian, and Lucio.

Every once in awhile, Genji would visit and despite knowing that she should love a visit from the Fun Uncle, she hated it a bit as well. There was a peculiar sadness to him and whenever she knew he’d be around, she’d hide.

Fortunately, Hog apparently hadn’t warmed to him and was more than happy to help hide her. She hadn’t gotten the whole story, but Jamie had told her it had to do with the reason Jesse lost his arm. Jamie, of course, had a tendency to exaggerate so she wasn’t sure if it was as he said it, but if so then it would make sense that Hog didn’t much like her uncle.

Hog did like Rishi, though, but there was no one that Hana had met in her short life that actually disliked the tattoo artist. Hanzo had been put off by him when they first met - and of course he had, it was Hanzo - but he hadn’t truly disliked the man. Things like that didn’t surprise Hana because his laid-back nature - why Genji occasionally referred to him as a monk or called him “Zenny” - Rishi was rather peculiar.

In any case, Hog (and Jamie and all of their assorted porcine shadows) didn’t mind Rishi and thus was allowed over when Hana was hiding. Though no one said anything directly, everyone was aware of why Hana was at Junkertown whenever Genji was over and if Rishi went along with his boyfriend-slash-sort-of-husband he would always find his way down to the farm.

He usually brought gifts in the form of small trinkets he found in their time apart, from stickers to small figurines or assorted video games that would fit in the ports of her game pad. Rishi had ever been honest, even when he perhaps shouldn’t be, so he admitted when she asked that it was painful for Genji to be around her sometimes.

Hana told him cautiously (cautiously because Daisy-slash-Bacon was snoring nearby and it was a paranoid thought but Hana sometimes thought that the pot-bellied pig was far more intelligent than she had any right to be) that it was the same for her and Rishi smiled sadly.

So time passed and things got better.