Title: Remember When It Rained

Author: theslashbunny

Beta: None. All mistakes belong to me, unfortunately.

Pairing: Kakashi/Iruka

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mention of past character death, AU future fic

Summary: If only the rain could wash away the darkness inside as easily and surely as it was washing off the splatters of mud from when they'd sank to the ground.

A/N: Written for akakaki at the crimeland Gift-Giving Challenge. The request was broken!Kakashi and bossy!Iruka. Title comes from the song of the same name as performed by Josh Groban.

Iruka already knew where Kakashi would be. He was at the training grounds again. Any time he wasn't at the hospital, Iruka knew where to look: if it was early morning, he was at the memorial; if it was any other time, it was the training grounds. He still hadn't been placed back on active duty and Iruka knew that it gave him too much time to think, to much emptiness that he couldn't fill with a mission and that he wouldn't fill on his own.

Kakashi hadn't been back to their apartment since the battle and Iruka had been spending less and less time there, sleeping at the hospital because their bed seemed too big without his partner in it, without strong arms wrapped around him to keep out the cold and the nightmares.

It had been raining all morning, but Iruka had just left his nightly vigil at the hospital and stopping back at the apartment would either be a waste of chakra or a waste of time, so he forewent a little bit of comfort for the sake of finding Kakashi - again.

Of course, Kakashi hadn't brought an umbrella either. The jounin had a simply astounding guilt complex that always seemed to display itself through acts of self-deprivation and self-neglect. Iruka couldn't stop his sigh at the sight of silver hair drooping in the rain, skin two shades too pale even for such a naturally light-skinned man, bulky bandages altering the fit of his clothing.

As Iruka walked up to him, he could see that the grey eye he loved so much was unfocused, watching events that were over, seeing people who were gone. As he looked over the dreary, rain-soaked training grounds, Iruka had no idea if he was seeing happier times or if he was just reliving the battle that had torn up the earth and caused the craters that pitted the once smooth field. It seemed fitting that it had ended where it had all started and Kakashi was probably thinking the same thing. But Kakashi would twist it in his mind, twist it so that it became his fault, turn it into something that no one else was thinking, but of which the jounin was absolutely sure.

For a while, Iruka simply stood at his lover's side, shoulder to shoulder, slowly getting drenched to the bone as Kakashi already was. But this couldn't go on, and if Kakashi couldn't see that, then Iruka would just have to show him.

Iruka turned, but before he could say anything, that pale face turned to him and, even in the rain, Iruka could see he was crying. Not just the transplant that so easily showed emotion, but his natural eye was bloodshot and puffy, tears washing away in the raindrops as soon as they left his eye.

His heart clenched in his chest and tears sprang to his own eyes at the sight and as he whispered, "Oh, 'Kashi..." the older man threw his arms around him and pulled him close, burying his cold face in the crook of Iruka's neck as he began to sob in earnest.

The man in his arms was freezing and Iruka couldn't tell if he was shaking from his grief or from the cold, but all he could do was wrap his arms around him tighter and hold him close, willing his own body heat to warm his partner. It was honestly unnerving to see Kakashi like this - he very rarely cried as far as Iruka knew - not even his left eye teared up much - and for him to be this open with his emotions was somewhat frightening.

When Kakashi sank to the ground, kneeling in the frigid mud, Iruka easily followed, pulled into straddling Kakashi's lap so that his broken partner could maintain his grip. This couldn't be easy on his still-healing body - the position, the cold, the shuddering heaves wracking his lungs - but Iruka couldn't think of what to do. He could transport them with a jutsu back to the hospital, but Kakashi would never forgive him and he'd sure as hell never open up like this again. He could do the same back to their apartment, but somehow, being anywhere but here would seem wrong and probably make Kakashi shut down again. This was the first time he'd expressed anything since the battle and Iruka was afraid that anything he did would just send him back into the hell in his mind into which he'd locked himself. And so Iruka took the only option left.

He just let Kakashi cry, rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles into what little of his back wasn't covered in bandages, cooing nonsense into his hair, and pressing kisses to what little of his lover he could reach without letting go.

If only the rain could wash away the darkness inside as easily and surely as it was washing off the splatters of mud from when they'd sank to the ground.

Eventually, Kakashi calmed, but his grip didn't loosen. When he began to talk, voice hoarse from disuse and from his cries, his face was still buried in Iruka's neck.

"Why wouldn't he listen?" he whispered. "Why wouldn't he just-" The rest of his question was cut off by another shuddering inhale. That baritone was so sincere, sounding so confused that Iruka took a minute to try to find a real answer, not just one meant to make one of his most important people feel better. The love of his life deserved the truth, so the truth is what he was determined to give him, even if he wasn't willing to accept it.

"I don't know. Maybe he was just so deep in his hate that he just couldn't hear us anymore," he answered, whispering like the now sacred space surrounding them deserved. It was a moment before either of them said anything else and Iruka's heart stopped for a split second when he heard Kakashi speak again.

"He was so much like me."

He knew this was going to happen, but knowing that didn't make hearing Kakashi beat himself up any easier. "No, he wasn't, 'Kashi, he-"

"Yes. He was," he interrupted. "I shut myself off after my father's death, I let my friends get hurt, I let-"

Iruka wasn't about to let that train of thought continue. "You didn't betray us. You never would."

It was true. Kakashi would never knowingly hurt those he loved and would never harm the village that was his home. Kakashi couldn't even turn his back on someone who'd caused him so much pain, instead taking the burden on himself. His fierce loyalty was one of the many reasons why Iruka loved him so much, but it was also one of the many sources of frustration and pain that Iruka sometimes wished he could protect him from.

"I should've been able to save him..." he said, voice breaking again.

"No, you couldn't, Kashi. No one could."

"But, if I'd just-" he started, but Iruka pulled back to look him in the eye as he interrupted that self-destructive chain of thinking.

"Kakashi, stop it." Iruka's voice was harsher than he'd intended it to be, but Kakashi needed to hear this. Even the strongest person would break under the weight of the world.

"You're not the only one who wishes things had ended differently," he continued. "Do you think you're the only one who tried to change his mind? Who tried to help him? I was his teacher, too, Kashi. We're both always going to wonder whether he would've stayed if maybe we'd done this or said that."

Kakashi was shaking slightly again, but Iruka continued, bringing his volume back down to a whisper. "But that's not going to change history and that's not going to bring him back. And dwelling on it like this - it's not healthy and all it's going to do is destroy you, just like he let grief and pain destroy him. And you're better than that. You've already lost so much, but you keep going," he said, hoping that some of this was getting through to the man still looking so heart-sick in his arms. "Because you're strong and you know that you have people who love you. I love you. Naruto and Sakura both love you. And we need you to stop doing this to yourself."

"'Ruka... I just can't..." he broke off, looking away. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"I know. But you have to stop shutting us out. We miss you," Iruka whispered, bringing one hand up to brush sodden silver hair away from Kakashi's face, tangling his fingers in it and resting his forehead against the metal of Kakashi's forehead protector.

"I miss you..." he added, his voice cracking a little, "so much. And I know you need to grieve; we all do. And you need to know that you can talk to me. And you don't need to cry out here alone. I've seen you at your very best and I've seen you at your worst...

"Please don't shut me out now."

Iruka's heart broke a little more as the silence stretched on after his statement, but at least Kakashi wasn't moving away. The rain continued to pour down all around them and Iruka could see drops falling from Kakashi's eyelashes, but he was certain they weren't tears. The other man's lips were looking a bit pale from the cold, however. Even if Kakashi fought him about it, Iruka would have to find a way to get him inside, dry, and warm soon. He was so lost in his planning of how to get one of the village's most stubborn and cunning jounin ever to agree to moving that when Kakashi spoke again, it almost made him jump.

"They won't let me put his name on the memorial."

There was silence between them as they both fell into their own thoughts again. Iruka had already known that Sasuke's name would never be allowed on the memorial stone. He'd betrayed his village and even the combined weight of Sakura, Naruto and Kakashi wouldn't be able to change the council's mind.

So really, there was only one thing to do.

"Then we'll just have to make our own." Kakashi pulled back at Iruka's statement, looking almost surprised and Iruka could see a hint of hope in his uncovered eye.

Sasuke may be a traitor, but he was still family and he was still loved. He deserved to be remembered for something other than his betrayal.

Kakashi pulled him in again, this time hugging him instead of clinging to him, pressing his pale cheek against Iruka's tan one, both equally chilled and Iruka decided that they'd sat in the downpour long enough. Squeezing him back once more, Iruka raised to his feet, pulling Kakashi gently to his own. Keeping a hold of one of his hands, Iruka started to slowly lead him back to town, speaking as they walked.

"Come on," he said. "We're going back to the hospital so Sakura can lecture you about still being injured and being an idiot, standing in the rain like this." And so they could check on Naruto. Sakura was sure he'd survive, but he still hadn't woken up since the battle two weeks ago. Iruka was pretty sure that he just didn't want to face what had happened.

"Sakura has no room to lecture anyone; she shouldn't even be back to work yet, but she frightened Mizumi into signing her release," Kakashi whined, and Iruka had never been happier to hear him complain. "Cheater."

"Yeah, whatever, you can say that to her face," he snarked, unable to stop the small smile from forming on his face. "At least she won't hit you since you're still healing."

Iruka stopped when he felt the tug on his hand and heard Kakashi speak again.

"...Iruka?" he murmured, barely able to be heard over the rain hitting the puddles and the mud surrounding them. "I love you, too. You know that, right?" He sounded uncertain and when Iruka looked back at him, even with his mask on, he could see it on his face. And Iruka could also see that he was sorry - sorry for withdrawing, sorry for making Iruka worry, sorry for making him grieve on his own. He'd never say it, but Iruka would never expect him to, nor want it if he did.

"I know."

It would take a long time to heal, for all of them. But someday, Naruto would wake up, Sakura would smile again, Iruka's nightmares would fade, and the sun would come out again. Eventually, Kakashi would return to his normally quirky self, with just one more ghost to haunt him. And Iruka would be right there by his side until the guilt they both carried was gone forever, left behind when they finally rejoined their fallen friends.