It started slowly at first: he'd stand a little closer to her when they were walking side by side, and on occasion his hand would brush hers but he wouldn't pull away; when they were climbing up over rocky slopes or through thick brush, he'd put a steadying hand gently on the small of her back; with every passing night he laid out his sleeping roll a little nearer to hers (the comical gap between them that first night! As though he thought she'd try to jump him in his sleep). Slowly but surely, Sasuke seemed to be growing a little more comfortable in her presence. It reminded her of their old genin days together, those moments she'd live for when he'd sit next to her during lunch on simple missions and sometimes their knees would touch, and it would send her heart racing in all her innocent, girlish infatuation. That infatuation had developed into love, and her awareness of him had developed into something less innocent and more intensely physical.

But she did not hope for anything and nor did she push him for anything more than he was willing to give. Their relationship didn't need to be defined in words; was much too complex to be described by something so simple and superficial as words. They were friends, she knew—teammates—but not lovers, not yet, and perhaps not ever. He had said as much to her the night that he had asked her to come with him on his journey. And that was fine with Sakura. She had been content to love him onesidedly for the better part of her life, never demanding that her feelings be reciprocated, and that had not changed. She was happy just to be at his side, where she felt so completely and totally at home.

They were travelling north in pursuit of traces of Kaguya's chakra. The tracking process was slow-going and they journeyed slowly, taking frequent stops. She didn't understand the particulars, only that Sasuke searched using his Rinnegan and where he went, she naturally followed. She was there to be his medic, after all. They'd had a few run-ins with independent rebel groups from the villages, those who held grudges still, even after the war, and aimed to harm the newly found peace. Such confrontations were usually dealt with swiftly and cleanly. Sasuke was so strong, even with only one arm, and she fought as his companion and equal at his side.

No more did she cower behind his back, looking to be rescued. No longer did Sasuke push her to the side, seeing her as weak and in need of his protection. That little confidence he showed in her was the highest praise she could have asked for. She would not be a burden to him on this journey, no. She would not let him regret his decision to bring her.

Although the past two weeks since they'd left the village had proved to be largely uneventful (exempting a few ambushes from poorly organized insurgence groups) Sakura was never bored. She filled the silence with her chatter, delighted whenever Sasuke, terse as always, would quietly respond to her questions and conversations. Once, as a girl, she'd erroneously imagined herself to be the leading expert on all things Sasuke-related; she'd prided herself on learning his favourite foods, books, and movies; his birthday and horoscope sign; at which ninja arts he excelled, and so on. Meaningless statistics. She'd known nothing of the suffering going on underneath his cool exterior. Now she was determined to learn him anew—to truly know him, and understand him, so she could love him all the better.

That night started the same as most nights before it since they'd begun journeying together: she'd prepared a simple dinner while he'd built up the fire for the night, and they'd laid out their sleeping rolls (this time with less than a foot between them!) The sky was clear and velvet black, stars winking prettily overhead, a waxing moon—nearly full—visible over the leafy treetops, its silvery light filtering through the branches.

They'd gone to bed, and several hours later, past midnight, Sakura awoke to the sound of a scream. It might have startled her if she had not grown accustomed to this near-nightly occurrence. She sat up groggily, brushing overgrown strands of pink hair away from her face, and reached for the lantern she kept next to her bed roll to light it.

"Sasuke-kun." she said his name soothingly, shuffling over to close the distance in between them. He had pitched upright, shaking, his dark eyes wide and tormented in the dim lighting, his face ghostly white. "Sasuke-kun, it was just a dream."

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, seemingly not fully awake or aware of himself just yet. "I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." she replied, reaching for him. Her fingers went automatically for his silky hair and she pulled his head gently to her chest, where she stroked his head and hummed softly until the trembling had subsided and his breathing had slowed to a normal pace. Even then he didn't pull away from her, but as the tension went out of his body he seemed to melt against her, resting his weight entirely against her small frame. She held him securely, feeling the beat of his heart slowly turn steady against her breast until it began to beat in sync with hers. Normally she would have gone into the tizzy at the mere thought of such close contact with him—the way he allowed her to hold him and touch his hair like this, his pretty hair which was black and smooth and glossy as obsidian. Now it seemed wrong of her to enjoy it overmuch. She hated to see him like this—she didn't know what he saw in his nightmares, only knew that the flashbacks were terrible and left him emotionally raw and quaking like a leaf. She wished to the very core of her being that she could fight his demons for him—but how could she battle that which she couldn't see?

One hand slid lower, down his neck and along his back, her fingertips pulsing with green light as she expertly located the knots of tension twisted into the hard muscles of his back by nightmare-induced spasms and released them one after another. He moaned almost inaudibly, but said nothing, allowing her to comfort him the best she knew how. One day he might choose to talk to her about it, those horrors he saw replayed endlessly, but for now this was all she could do for him.

His breathing slowed and deepened. Eventually she realized that he had fallen right back asleep like that, curled up in her arms and with his head against her chest. Now she took the opportunity to blush, flushing red from her neck to the roots of her hair. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, his handsome features totally relaxed—so vulnerable, almost child-like. Sakura swallowed hard.

What now?

TL;DR version:

-SS travelling-

-Travelling intensifies-

Sasuke-kun: -ptsd-

Sakura: "Awww lemme make it better"

Sasuke-kun: "snoooore"

Sakura: "OMG SCORE"

Sorry for the late update. I took a course at a University in Spain. And, y'know, Spain.