The war was won but, amongst the shouts of victory and tears for uncountable lost shinobi, something was missing; or rather, someone was missing. She was the second person from his division that he had searched for after everyone had been released from the dream.

He scanned the area to no avail, running past numerous lifeless bodies and prayed that he wouldn't find that blonde haired woman amongst them. She couldn't be. She was too stubborn to die.

Hours passed. He asked anyone and everyone in the fourth division who might know of her whereabouts. No one had seen her. Finally, he was forced to admit defeat and head to the one place he dreaded she was.

He swallowed and readied his eyes to what he would see inside the medic ninja's tent. Everywhere ninja bustled around trying to tend to patients, attempting to find lost friends and inform people of who had passed. It was gruesome and almost more hectic than the battle field. A voice behind him pricked his ears,

"The kazekage was released almost immediately after he was admitted. The wounds were minor," he was a young medic and looked barely old enough to be here. "Sister however, she was a lot worse. They're trying to resuscitate her now but…," his voice lowered to a mere whisper, "it doesn't look like there's much more we can do."

At that moment, all the blood drained from his face. A sharp twist of pain flashed through his gut. What a merciless twist of fate, to have gone through a war and finally realize what you want only to have it taken away.

The young medic motioned towards a team of doctors. Now, Shikamaru had never identified as a masochist, but he couldn't stop his feet as they lead him towards them. He should stop. This could only be detrimental in the long run.

He watched, horrified as the doctors stepped back, distress and heart ache written all over their faces. The unmistakable form of a woman was covered by a white sheet.

That was it, all he could take. If she had been here right now she would have reprimanded him for his blurring vision. She'd say some crap about war and how people were supposed to die. The bustle around him seemed to fade into nothingness as all the loss finally hit him. Asuma, Neji, his father and now…

"Shika - ," there were no two people in the world with that voice. "Shikamaru, what are you doing here?" His head whipped around so fast that his eyes took a few seconds to adjust and there she was. Impossible but true.

She sat, propped upright in a cot. Her complexion pale, covered in minor cuts and bruises, a cast on one arm but alive.

"Shikamaru, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is it Chouji?" A frown formed on her face and her eyebrow squished together in concern. Those one of a kind blue green eyes reflecting a portion of the fear his had just held.

Without a second thought he strode over to her bedside and wrapped his arms around her, letting out a shaky exhale as he rested his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder. He didn't trust his voice right now. How could he? He had just watched her die. "Shikamaru, you're scaring me. What happened?"

"What happened," he mumbled in disbelief. He was asking the same question. "They told me the kazekage's sister had died," the quiver in his voice would have embarrassed him at another time but all he could feel was massive relief. The young medic who had just witnessed their reunion bolted to attention.

"Oh! My apologies," a bright red blush coated his face, "the young girl who just passed, the medic team referred to her as 'Sister'. She was unidentified and sister was the only word she ever said so the name stuck. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience!"

The Nara's eyes narrowed dangerously. At this point, the young man saw it was time to take his leave. Shikamaru let out a labored sigh.

"How troublesome," he whispered utterly drained. A quiet chuckle and Temari's good hand around his back brought him to reality.

"I'm sorry." It was the only time he had ever heard her apologize. Her face was completely earnest. Eyes reflecting, perhaps this was wishful thinking, herself being put into the same scenario with him.

Reluctantly he released her and took a step back, eyes trained on her face like a hawk to make sure she didn't disappear.

"Ch, you don't have to apologize," he tried to muster some of his usually passé attitude but failed miserably. "What happened anyways?" She grudgingly looked at the cast covering her arm, as if she had expected to make it out of this war without a scratch.

"I'm not entirely sure. Some point just before everyone was put into that dream there were some rocks being thrown about and one caught me in the arm. It's ridiculous really, but they won't let me leave. Gaara told them not to," she huffed like a child. This woman would surely be the death of him.

"You should have more concern for your health," he grumbled as his face fell into his hands.

"How are you doing?" She didn't wait for an answer before she commanded, "Sit." He hadn't known just how much his legs were aching until he collapsed onto that cot next to her. Despite his protests she leaned forwards and wiped the last few lingering tears from his cheeks. They sat in comfortable silence for a good while.

Thinking about their lives, how everything would undoubtedly change and where they would find themselves. "I guess this is it then," her voice was raw. Though most people would assume she meant the war, her voice was heavy with underlying implications.

"The war has ended. That's the only thing," he clarified. And for the first time since this bloody fight began he smiled, truly smiled, when she turned her head to the side. Her face was unreadable but her ears were a bright red.

"How are we ever going to go back to where we were? How am I supposed to go back to Suna and be the ambassador and act as if this war never happened?"

In that moment she looked younger than him. Her strong mask fell and her voice trembled like a child's. He adjusted himself so that he could lie along her good side. She slid down the small cot to put herself at his eye level.

"You don't have to," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. His eyed her beseechingly.

"What are you talking about?" She stammered a flush covering her face.

"You don't have to go back to Suna…" He honestly didn't think he'd be able to rest if she was a three days journey away. Just because the war was over didn't mean it was safe. Too many things could go wrong.

Losing more people wasn't an option. A whole range of emotions flashed through her eyes as she realized what he was implying. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. "What do you want Temari? What did you dream about? If there was anything to be learned from this war, it's that we need to take those things while we have the chance."

"Some of those things are impossible Shika -,"

"But not all of them," he protested.

"I just don't think now is the right time to be talking about this," she sighed, closing her eyes. He was supposed to be the logical one, never leaving anything up to chance. But for once he just had a gut feeling. To expect everything to turn out like his dream was naïve. Even so, he knew this was worth every risk.

"I saw my parents," she murmured. "Except it wasn't really them because they were smiling at each other. My father wasn't power hungry so he never sealed the sand demon inside Gaara. Then," her face became warm and he swore he could hear her heart beat pick up, "I grew up and moved away."

"Really," he played along, "it must have been pretty lonely."

"No, it was perfect. I made new friends and had the family I had always wanted. None of it was real though. It's stupid to miss something you never had but it felt like I was actually living all of it, you know?"

"Trust me I think everyone is still feeling shaken up from their dreams. I know I am. Of course, it doesn't help that possibly the most important person in said dream just about gave me a heart attack." He watched closely for any signs of disapproval. A blush and downcast eyes were all he saw. "You must have had some idea that - ," he continued.

"Is that really what you wanted?" She blurted out before thinking of the consequences and was answered by his lips pressing softly against hers.

The chaos around receded for just a moment. It was a sweet kiss, unrushed and filled with that impractical emotion shinobi were never meant to experience. Yes, if he was being honest with himself, this is what he had wanted since he was thirteen.

The first time he saw her there was a faint attraction. Even though her brash attitude and violent disposition told his brain to keep away, they continued to run into each other. Over the years, as she saved his life and he returned the favor, ambassador visits and the chuunin exam preparations the pull became stronger.

It had only taken a war and the prospect of her death for him to finally get the guts to confess. For preaching all that 'men and women stuff' he was the least manly one of all.

"I want this. I really do," she said quietly as they pulled apart, "but I don't feel right making any decisions now. There's been too much destruction and everyone is emotional. I can't promise anything…not when you could still change your mind."

"I never said anything about making a decision. But if you are waiting for me to change my mind you'll be waiting a very long time."

Temari was obviously not used to these sorts of proclamations. He took an inordinate amount of pleasure in knowing he could make the usually boisterous girl speechless.

At this point, they had gathered a few onlookers. It wasn't unusual to see heartfelt reunions amongst ninja after battle. However, both being prominent figures in the war, people knew they were not from the same village. He prayed that inter-village relations would improve as a result of all of this death and pain as he pressed her closer.

"You look like crap," she muttered tenderly, "get some sleep before you have to demobilize the troops." His eyes were already closing as she spoke.

"Don't go anywhere," he mumbled voice thick with imminent sleep. He felt rather than heard her laugh.

"That's not really an option in this position."

"Just promise me, troublesome woman."

"I promise."