Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Naruto. That belongs entirely to Kishimoto.

She dreams in colour. (But then again, which child doesn't?) And it is when the skies are grey and the raindrops are ghosts does she realize that this is no dream.

She stands, eyes downcast, red glasses perched on the tip of her nose, in front of cold grey slate. She does not acknowledge those from her town; not her uncle Naruto, not her aunt Ino, not even Boruto and Inojin. She stands with no espression, and Naruto thinks how much she looks like her father at this moment.

When it is over, Auntie Hinata speaks quietly with her, offering her warm tea. Aunt Ino stoops low and wraps her in tight hugs and barely-there sobs. Boruto refuses to leave her side, silent for once, and Himawari sniffles into her shoulder. "You must be strong, Sarada. She would have wanted you to be strong," Auntie Ino says as she stands up to draw Inojin into her arms. But Sarada only wishes to be left alone in silence. They are too loud, too much, and all she wants is solitude.

Uncle Naruto calls her into his office, a hand on her shoulder and cloak half-enwrapping her (small, so small) body. He exudes sadness and sympathy, and Sarada wishes his sympathy-tinged smiles gone. But she says nothing, basking in the silence that she had so desperately wanted. She may not be completely alone, but this will do for now.

"Sarada-chan," Naruto begins softly, and she thinks with vehemence that there is no need to speak to her like a porcelain doll. "I'm so sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I couldn't do anything and—" and Sarada tunes him out soon enough, mind rejecting his apologies laced with (in her eyes) self-pity. Instead, her memories spin and turn, taking her back to not even an hour before, back to the graveyard of forgotten heroes. She remembers the feeling of almost-nothingness of the rain and the hollowness in her heart as she watched dirt being poured onto her mother's lovely face. She remembers the outline of the gravestone as she bends down to say her goodbyes and gift her with a single rose stem. And most vividly she remembers how the spot next to her was empty and devoid of life, how the one man that was supposed to be there the most was nowhere near where he needed to be.

Naruto has, not even a minute later of speaking, realized that his goddaughter had stopped listening. Sighing, he sits down in his chair, debating whether he should offer more comfort to the girl in front of him. Giving her a few more minutes of silence, he ran a hand down his face.

"Sarada-chan," he calls, catching her attention once again. Her face shows no remorse of being caught inattentive, and Naruto is once again reminded with a sinking feeling how similar the two Uchihas were. "….You father will be contacted, Sarada-chan. We couldn't find him in time to speak to him, and for that I am so, so sorr-" "That's enough, Hokage-sama" Sarada interrupts before he could apologize yet again (and again and again and she wonders when everyone will shut up for once because apologies do nothing to help). She ignores the widening of his eyes and the disappointed parting of his mouth. "If I may, I would like to take my leave now, Hokage-sama." She bows with respect. She keeps her head down, posture straight and eyes averted, waiting for him to allow her leave, copied from the many (many, many) times she has seen her father do it.

Inside, Naruto breaks a little, blue eyes closing as he stares at the little Uchiha who has finally learned what it feels like to lose someone they love. "Of course, Sarada-chan. You've had a very long day. I'm sorry to keep you. If you want, I can escort you home…?" He trails off as she straightens stiffly, not getting the execution of her bow quite right (she is too young to being using that sort of etiquette, Naruto thinks with despair), and stares him straight in the eyes. "That will be unnecessary, Hokage-sama. I will be taking my leave now." And Naruto was left to stare at the trailing end of her black dress with turbulence in his eyes and grief in his heart.

It is midnight and she sits in wait, umbrella opened and propped on her shoulder. It is not raining tonight but the umbrella helps her with her fidgeting habit (stop that, Sarada, that's not proper for an Uchiha), and keeps her thoughts away from the dirt and how her mother is buried six feet under.

She thinks of cold nights and warm dinners, back when she was still by her side. Mama, coming back to her office at the hospital exhausted, but ready to hug her daughter for more energy; Papa, with his little gifts and bashful kisses for Mama; her little brother, sleeping deep within Mama's womb, awaiting the day when the skies will greet him.

She thinks of warm beds and cold feet when she chased after her father when she realized he was leaving (again and again and again she called but he never turned around). She thinks of nights writing letters and incinerated words and tear-stained dreams of her father's back (and the nagging doubt of her father's love for her) and she cannot help but wonder when things began to fall apart for her family, or whether they had even been (not perfect, but) functional in the first place.

And at last she lets her grief wash over her as she tilts her head back and allows weakness to slip out of her eyes as she thinks back to being awoken in the dead of night to painful screaming and frantic yelling and being carried to the hospital and waiting (in vain, but at that time she had not known) for her mother and new baby brother to emerge from the operation room, heart not knowing of the risks and onyx eyes filled with hope and bright futures (and the fervent wish that the new addition will be enough for Papa to stay).

She sobs silently that night, pouring sorrow into her silence as she sinks back into the little bench by the road that meant so much to her (six feet under and never waking up) mother.

It has been 8 months since he has stepped foot back in Konohagakure, not the longest (but closest to it) he has been away from his humble family. He would probably be lying if he said that he didn't miss them, but at the same time, a part of him yearns for the roads again. He knows, however, that he cannot leave for long the next time. His son is coming soon and Sakura would be in her delicate stage this last month. He will need to take care of Sarada now that his wife was in risk of going into labor, and he has plans to teach her the chidori this time, if Kakashi hasn't already taught her. He thinks he will be more settled this time around, staying longer than he's had in years. Perhaps this news will bring a smile to his girls' faces.

He has not sent for a messenger hawk to announce his arrival; rather, he prefers to surprise them in the dead of night as he walks down the street, gifts heavy in his satchel. He thinks himself a warrior softening, when he catches the beginnings of a smirk in a darkened window. But his smirk fades when he sees the bench, heart tugging at the memories surrounding it, of tear-stained confessions and painful goodbyes.

It nearly stops beating when he sees the one form that should not be there at that place, at that time, ever, and flash-steps to the waiting form, onyx eyes threatening to bleed red as he tenses in front of his daughter.

"Sarada," he greets her, monotone timbre tinged with worry and soaked with sternness. "What are you doing here? You should be in bed."

She sits listlessly, tiny handles twirling the handle of her (irrelevant, but what's wrong? Please tell Papa, but he says none of these out loud) umbrella. "It's cold," she says after 5 heartbeats of silence. "Which is why you should be in bed." He replies snappishly, pulling his travelling cloak open, ready to beckon her in. "Why didn't you contact us?" Sarada blurts out, grateful he cannot yet see the dried tracks of weakness on her cheeks. Her papa sighs, explaining again what he has said so many times before. "Papa had to go, Sarada. He had to go on a journey that is his own and not yours nor your mama's path to follow." He opens his cloak a little wider, impatiently waiting for her body warmth to join his.

She looks up at him, stares deep into his eyes, and shakes her head once, firmly. Exasperated and a little whiplashed, her papa growls before firmly grabbing her forearms and lifting her into his embrace. She does not struggle, and for that Sasuke worries all the more. "I don't know why you're out so late at night, but I warn you, young lady, your mama will hear of this and we'll make sure you're grounded and—"

"It's not fair," she interrupts. Sasuke glances at her and sighs, waiting for her to continue. "We wait and wait, but you're never here. Even when Mama found out about Mamoru being in her tummy, you weren't here. Why are you never here, Papa? Why are you never here when we need you the most?" She is almost crying now, head down and refusing to make eye contact. Sasuke furrows his brow, a sense of anxiety steadily increasing as he watched his only daughter shake with silent sobs. "Sarada? What's wrong? What's—"

"You're never here. We waited and waited but you were never here. We waited…" her frantic yells die down to whispers, eyes wide and Sasuke is suddenly struck by their colour. "But you were never here."

Two black commas spun haphazardly in tear-stained red eyes.

He awakes to screaming and crying and his feet have carried him to her room before he has even processed the change in scenery. "Sarada," he whispers soothingly, "Sarada, I'm here, I'm right here." He grips onto her fists tightly, attempting to stop her frantic flailing and calm her. "Papa's here, shh, shh." Her keening trembles, voice warbling and hoarse as she screams into the night, and Sasuke holds her close, brows furrowed in worry but his heart taking a brief reprieve that she had not screamed because she was mortally injured.

It is a while before her sobs break and she has stopped shivering so much. Her tears still run but the flow has ebbed and Sasuke brushes her hair away, petting her head as she calms. "P-papa?" she sniffles into his neck. "I'm right here, Sarada," he hums softly under his breath, his hold on her firm. He is taken by surprise when she shoves back from him, onyx eyes frantic as she looked around the room, and Sasuke tries to stop the painful twinge in his heart. "Papa, where's Mama? Where's otouto? Papa where are they?!" she is near hysteric once again and Sasuke folds her back in his arms, attempting to sooth his frightened daughter.

"They're sleeping, Sarada, they're just sleeping. Mama's tired, remember? And Mamoru's already had his milk. You're fine, Sarada. Whatever's scared you is gone, it was just a dream. Papa's right here." He murmurs into her hair, and feels his daughter slowly cease her shaking, shoulders hunched over in exhaustion.

"It was…just a dream…" she whispers into his neck, voice rough from her screaming. "It felt…so real." Suddenly, she tackles his neck, clinging on and refusing to let go. Sasuke only holds her, carrying her in his arms as she buries relieved sniffles into his side. Walking away from her dark bedroom, he heads for his and Sakura's room, hands rubbing gentle circles in Sarada's back.

"What happened?" Sasuke tries asking, voice steady and soft in order to try not to wake his spent wife and baby son. He feels her shake her head underneath his chin. "Don wanna talk about it," she mumbles, little sniffles punctuating her voice. Sasuke hesitates before he nods, taking one hand off of his daughter to open the door. He has learned the hard way not to pry into his daughter's problems. Give her time, Sakura had once advised after he had tried to pry a little too hard into his daughter's life. She'll tell you when she's ready. She's a lot like you when it comes to that.

Before he could enter into the room, Sarada looked up and pleaded, "Wait," before she squeezed her eyes shut and listened intently. Sasuke, feeling a little bewildered and wary of what is to come, pauses, allowing a full minute of silence to reign. A watery smile splits her chubby face in two when she catches the sounds she was looking for, and she buries her face once again in her father's neck and nodded for him to proceed. He does not question what has just occurred.

He lays her down, between him and Sakura, but keeps his hold on his daughter. He knows better than to try to wrap an arm across to Sakura, considering she was a light sleeper and completely exhausted at the moment. So he keeps his hand on his daughter's back, rubbing comfort into her tiny shoulders to sooth her to sleep.

It is not until the wisps of slumber begin to take him that Sarada tells him snippets of her dream. "Papa…" she whispers into the night. Sasuke shifts and cracks open a drooping eye. "Hmm?" He waits but she does not continue, and so he thinks she has only been sleep-talking but she interrupts Hypnos's pull again.

"Papa… I dreamed that…that Mama was six feet under and otouto had never been born an-and you were away and not here and you weren't there for us when we needed you, an-and and—" she lets out a squeak of surprise as her papa squeezes her tight to his chest, squeezing until there was almost no more air left in her. "Papa?" she questions breathlessly.

Sasuke shuts his eyes closed, hiding his Rinnegan and Sharingan behind eyelids at the very thought of his family once again broken. He would die before he let that happen. It broke his heart and darkened something deep within him at the notion. But it also made him question all the more how he could have allowed his daughter to go through such nightmares. What did that make him? Had his good intentions for seeking personal growth and redemption been the one thing that had been driving him out of his family's life?

"Sarada…" he begins slowly, cautiously. "Do these dreams happen often? Have…have you woken up with such fear more than once?" he waits with baited breath at her answer, and allows a sigh of relief when she mulls his question over and shakes her head quickly. "Only this once," she whispers back to him. "But I don't want it to ever happen." Sasuke smiles into her hair, hearing the finality in her firm statement. And he thinks. He thinks about the what ifs and the how abouts and the consequences to his choices.

He has not been a perfect man, far from it, but he wishes to redeem himself. The only way he knew how was travelling to the different villages and towns to help them build themselves back up as a form of atonement. But perhaps, he thinks, perhaps it was time for him to come home. Perhaps it was time for him to truly give his tiny family the love that they deserved.

"You won't have to wait anymore," he whispers into her hair, smile content and heart set, and he feels her freeze in his hold. "Papa's here to stay."

He smirks in amusement when she burrows her head away from him, leaning back to take in his expression. She stares in silence, searching for the lies, searching for the sincerity.

"No more waiting?" she demands harshly, and Sasuke shushes her quietly when he peers at his wife's sleeping form. He nods when she lets out a frustrated huff through her nose at his lack of an answer.

"Papa's gonna stay here from now on? And until forever?"

Sasuke is full on smiling now, nodding his head serenely as he confirms his stay, and Sarada's own eyes widen and she whisper-yells a Shannaro! into his neck, face aglow and nightmares forgotten.

"Now go to sleep, Sarada." Sasuke hums, pushing her head back down onto the pillows. She giggles, and he glows and they cannot wait to tell Sakura and little Mamoru tomorrow.

Papa is finally home.

AN: I will apologize for many things, but most of all the OOCness and I dont know what came over me. I literally just came home, sat down and started typing i was supposed to be surfing tumblr i honestly dont know where this came from