Hey everyone!

SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! You have fineillsignup to thank for this chapter - she's been great inspiration for me, and has pretty much kept me in the game with this story. I was never going to quit, of course, but her consistent prompting really helped get this chapter out sooner than I thought would be possible. So, naturally, this chapter is dedicated to her. :)

If you haven't heard, I've officially sworn off promising when the next chapter is coming out for any of my stories. I'm just never consistent enough, and life gets in the way too often for me to make promises like that anymore. I hope that helps with the frustration of waiting - but maybe not. Still. And I really, really apologize to all of you who have been waiting.

The truth is that my original works are starting to take off, and so all of my brain power has been going to maintaining sales and marketing and such. It's my dream to live off my writing, and so obviously, that comes first for me. I do apologize for how that affects my fanfic writing, however. :/

Also, a big thank you to those of you reading this who have supported my original fiction. You're amazing.

A single note for this chapter: I'm taking liberties with the keyboard thing here. Japanese keyboards don't really work this way, but since this story is in English, we're going to suspend disbelief for one scene and pretend that this translates over. (It totally doesn't though.) There was no other way to pull it off the way I wanted to.

Enjoy!

16

-Waking Up-

hHelp 110 . eergncy .. pllwsd hlpppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp;;lll;l;l;l;l;l;l;l;l;l;;;;;…,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

And then the email ended. It had been sent to himself from himself.

For a moment, Madara considered that a hacker had gotten into his email, but then decided that if anyone was skilled enough to hack him they wouldn't reveal themselves with such a juvenile message. Also, what hacker wrote the gibberish that had been sent to him? hHelp was obvious enough—someone was attempting to get his attention. But 110? Eergncy? Pllwsd? And then the utter mass of confusion that was the last amalgamation of characters.

He quickly forwarded the message to Ume to have it reported to their security department with a note to determine the IP address of the sender. He flagged it urgent and paged her—even if it didn't seem to be a hacker, he had too many assets to allow anyone to mess around inside his emails for long. There were important things that they could find out that he wouldn't want the public to know about, obviously, although nothing that would get him jailed. Uchiha Madara wasn't an idiot.

He continued on with his work day, looking forward to seeing his Sakura when he got home. He chuckled to himself lightly; it certainly wouldn't be quiet when he returned. She was smart, and she'd know exactly who to blame for her oversleeping. He knew that there was no way she'd have made it to school, and could only hope that she hadn't spent too much time snooping around. He hadn't left anything lying around that she could really take advantage of, but he did have the presence of mind to observe that she might have taken her temper tantrum out on his personal possessions.

That didn't particularly bother him. In fact, if she had done it, it would be rather cute, in all honesty. Things were replaceable; he was more concerned about people, specifically Sakura, who was…

His mind flashed back to the email. He had already acknowledged 'hHelp' as a cry for attention. But 110? He glanced down at his keyboard. 0 was right next to 9, and if the person was…

eergncy—if he added an 'm', it became emergncy, which was a clear enough message on its own. Further observation led to see that 'w', 's', and 'd' were all very close together, and 'w' and 'd' could easily have been incorrectly pressed and if replaced with 'a' and 'e'…

And if one was trying to ask for help, but lost consciousness and their hand were to fall from the keyboard…

His heart felt like it stopped for a moment, and then he snatched his cellphone and stood, already calling Ume as he strode out of his office towards the elevator.

"Yes, Madara-sama?" came Ume's masculine voice.

"Ume! Get in touch with Security now! I want that IP address!"

He could practically hear Ume's shock. It wasn't often that he lost his composure so fully. "O-okay, Madara-sama, just give me a sec-"

"Call me the minute you have it!" he barked furiously, then hung up and took the elevator down. He swiped his badge so that no one else could board while he was going down—not an oft-used feature, but it had its uses—and the moment he made it to ground floor, he ran out of the building and called for the valet service to get his car. Just as the car was pulling up, he got a call from Ume.

She sounded distinctly worried. "Madara-sama, it came from your home computer."

His blood turned to ice.

How long had it been since she lost consciousness? Fifteen, twenty minutes? His car was pulled to the front and he jumped into it like a man possessed.

He snapped into the phone, "Call 119. Have them send an ambulance to my home address." He growled furiously. "Make sure they know just who it is they're serving. If she's-"

"Yes, sir!" Ume said, and she hung up, presumably to contact the emergency services.

He drove so haphazardly that he nearly got into a wreck four times zooming in and out of lanes. Cars blared their horns but they might as well have been whispers in the wind for all the care he gave them.

Sakura—his Sakura—could be dead right now. And it would be entirely his fault.

For smashing her phone and not giving her any easily accessible way to contact the outside world, not even him. He knew it wasn't suicide, or else she wouldn't have cried for help, especially not to him. Had someone attacked her? It wasn't impossible. Had she had an accident in the kitchen cooking for herself? He hoped like he had never hoped before in his life that he would be able to hear it from her instead of from an autopsy.

He clenched his jaw and slammed down on the gas pedal.

Hurts.

Hurts.

When Sakura next opened her eyes, bright fluorescent lights were shining down upon her and she was covered head to toe in monitoring equipment. Hazily she noticed stickers attached to specific points on her body—hooked up to an EKG machine, monitoring her heartbeat. There was an IV in the back of her hand. She had an oxygen mask strapped to her face and had never felt more tired in her life.

She closed her eyes and drifted off just as she heard voices coming near.

"She'll be fine, Uchiha-sama," Shi-sensei said. "We were able to administer care quickly enough that there will be no permanent aftereffects, although she does need to be monitored…"

Madara stopped listening the moment the doctor said that Sakura would be okay. He'd arrived home just in time to see a frighteningly reddened, unconscious Sakura being wheeled out on a stretcher, and in a way he had never felt before, he had frozen. He'd been completely unable to move. Even when one of the medics approached him for information—it was his home, after all—he had barely been able to respond. The medic had asked him to follow them to the hospital so that he could give them the information they needed—they couldn't take it now, they'd said, with her in such critical condition—and in a daze, all he could do was get back into his car and follow them.

But she would be okay. He had gotten lucky in all ways here: Sakura was alive, most importantly, but the hospital had automatically assumed that he was her next of kin due to the lack of identification offered, and so by the skin of his teeth, he had avoided having Hatake contacted and throwing a wrench into his plans.

Yes, she had already signed the contract, but Hatake was wily and intelligent. It would be foolish to think he wouldn't at least try his best to find a loophole. He was already suspicious of Madara, and when his daughter was in danger—at least, that was how he would take it—he'd stop at nothing to make sure she was safe and happy.

He didn't understand. Madara was making sure she was safe and happy. She'd never want for anything. She just had to accept him, and she was well on her way to doing so.

Or so he had thought, at least. He was certain this wasn't a suicide attempt, but it still didn't reflect an ideal state of mind. The thought made his stomach churn. How much pain did someone have to be in to do this to themselves? They had told him that it was likely from being in hot water too long and they'd asked if he had a hot tub. He didn't, which meant that Sakura would have had to soak in very heated water for a very long time.

It made fury rise up in him, but at who, he wasn't sure. He wanted to be angry at her, but all he could feel was relief and fear and misery that she would do this to herself. Why? Why would she do it?

He was pretty sure he knew why, and it enraged and sickened him simultaneously.

Once Shi-sensei had finished speaking, Madara hummed in acknowledgement. The doctor led him to Sakura's room and then left them alone together.

Sakura's skin had cooled now and was back to a pale shade, although there was still a little too much flushing in her face and shoulders. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and watched her closely, trying to use her beautiful visage as a way to hold off the disturbing thoughts that continued to plague him.

Gripping her hand lightly, he watched her small chest move up and down, up and down, with every breath. Along with the beeping of her heart monitor, it was proof that his hime was still with him, still alive.

As much as he was relieved, he couldn't make sense of any of his other emotions, but on the off-chance Sakura might wake up soon, he needed to gather and organize his thoughts. That was easier said than done, though.

He was angry, he knew that. Part of it was, in fact, at Sakura—that she would be so careless and irresponsible with her health—but he knew already that it wasn't anger he would be acting out on. Perhaps a scolding, but he wasn't going to actively punish her for it. It had clearly been an accident, and she had reached out to him for help, so as far as he was concerned, she was in the clear.

The other part was at himself; he, too, had been careless and irresponsible, though in a different way. Sakura needed a phone—it was the first thing he would get her once she was well enough to walk. He would buy her whichever model she wanted, anything to make her happy. He doubted it would be a particularly great joy for her, but anything was better than nothing.

She also needed to move in with him officially, and he didn't have to wait for her to feel better for that. He would have movers bring her things to their home. He would even let her see Hatake, as long as she agreed to keep to the story that he'd had in mind all along for this specific purpose. He was certain that she would agree if it meant seeing her beloved father, but he didn't trust her, so he would certainly be nearby to keep an open ear and eye.

He supposed, upon further thought, that she might need supervision, perhaps in form of a bodyguard. It wouldn't be unwarranted, even if she had been trustworthy; he naturally had enemies, being so prominent in both the business and political worlds, and then there was always the average opportunist who might see her unguarded and think to take advantage. But it would need to be someone he could trust, which ruled out his first choice, Sasuke's older brother, Itachi.

Someone he could rely on who would be able to be around twenty-four hours should it be necessary. He hummed contemplatively, leafing mentally through his options. Eventually, he came upon his answer, and smiled to himself as he stroked the back of Sakura's hand with his thumb.

Yes, he would work. It was surprising he hadn't thought of him before, but he hated Hatake enough to forsake his morals if it meant making him suffer.

Perfect.

He picked up his cellphone and dialed.

When Sakura next woke up, the first sensation she felt was coolness, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. She wiggled her toes, found a blanket on top of her, and reached to pull it closer up around her.

But her right hand wouldn't move. It was being held.

It only took opening her eyes to find out why, and while it should have been expected, she wasn't pleased to see Madara hovering so close by and holding her hand gently but firmly, stroking her knuckles seemingly absentmindedly.

He noticed she was awake almost immediately. "Good evening," he said mildly.

She ignored him in favor of sitting up, which wasn't all that hard although some muscles protested. A quick glance around confirmed what she'd thought: she was in a hospital.

Her first thought was to make a scene and reveal Madara for the evil bastard he was, but she quickly discarded the thought. It wouldn't be effective if Madara was sitting literally a foot from her. She didn't know what he'd do if she tried, but she could be certain that it wouldn't be good.

"You got my email," she said unnecessarily.

"I did." He paused. "Thank you for reaching out to me."

She looked at him sharply. "No matter how much I hate you, I want to live more. But it had nothing to do with wanting your help."

He chuckled, unconcerned with her harsh words. "I feel the same. As long as you're alive, I don't care how much you hate me."

She felt a shiver go down her spine. The way he'd thrown her words back at her made her feel vaguely sick, but maybe that had to do with the lingering heat illness.

…Or maybe not, once she thought about all the things he'd done to her and would probably continue to do to her.

He interrupted her thoughts. "Once you're released, we'll go get you a phone. I've arranged for movers to pack your things and have them brought to our home—that should be settled within the next few hours."

Sakura inhaled harshly, struck hard by his words. She hadn't even thought about the permanency of moving her things to his home—not her home, not their home, not ever—and hearing it make her heart rate spike, if the heart monitors were anything to go by. "And what are you going to tell my otou-san?" she demanded.

"He'll be invited over to the house once you're healthy and you can explain things to him then."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. "He'll never accept what you've done to me," she said coldly. "He'll kill you before he lets you-"

Madara laughed, a genuine sound of amusement, which made her halt mid-sentence. "You're not telling him the truth, hime. I thought you were smarter than that." At her stricken look, he gripped her hand tighter, although she doubted it was to comfort her. "Calm down. It might be a bitter pill for him to swallow, but he'll accept it."

It was then that she realized her heart monitors were beeping too quickly, and before she could speak another word, a nurse opened the door and entered. "Is everything alright?" she asked, quickly moving over to inspect her.

"She's fine," Madara spoke for her. "Just heard some unpleasant news."

The nurse looked to Sakura, and miserably, Sakura nodded.

"Well, I'll have to ask you to keep any more 'unpleasant news' to yourself," she scolded Madara. Sakura couldn't quite muster a smile, but it tugged at her lips. "Haruno-san's condition is not good enough for her heart to take this kind of abuse."

Sakura couldn't help but giggle then at the nurse's words—if only the innocent women knew how close they were to the truth. Madara caught her eye and the laughter died in her throat.

"Of course," he responded to the nurse, as though he hadn't just tacitly threatened Sakura with his eyes.

"Very well. I'm going to go get Shi-sensei. He'll want to check up on you and see how you're doing, and if you can keep that heartrate down, maybe discuss your discharge."

"Thank you," Madara said, and with silent prompting, Sakura replied weakly, "I'd like that."

Even though she felt like she wanted to stay in this hospital room for the rest of her life. There was a certain safety about it, despite how she'd gotten here. Madara couldn't hurt her here, not without garnering attention, and even though he'd promised her a respite until the wedding, that didn't speak for a single moment after they were married.

She knew he would want to consummate the marriage, and there was nothing she looked forward to less.

Except, maybe, lying to the last person she still had in her corner: her father.

The nurse left with the promise of calling for Shi-sensei, and Sakura leaned back in her bed. Madara still hadn't released her hand, but he also didn't speak any further, probably knowing that anything he said would only upset her further and delay her release back into his custody.

Sakura sighed and sent up a prayer that Kakashi could see underneath the underneath as well as he always claimed to.

It was looking more and more like he was her last barrier between her and her fate with Madara.