A/N: About YB. Yes, it is what I consider to be mature content. No, that does not mean there will be lemons. I don't like writing those. Uh, it's different from my other works, in a sense. But I'm fond of this because of it. I hope you enjoy it.

"How can I help you, Mr. Kent?"

She speaks softly and sits before him with her legs crossed at the ankles and her spine straight. She doesn't lean back against the sofa to relax, and yet she doesn't seem even slightly uncomfortable. Her hands are on her lap folded neatly, and one of her fingers is tapping lightly to the beat of a song she has playing on repeat softly in the background.

There is no denying that she does carry herself as if she were the wife of the man who once ruled the world. She regards him with cool green eyes, and yet if you look closer, you can tell that grief mars her features.

Clark does not immediately answer as her presence unsettles him. Clark clears his throat slightly and says, "I was hoping you'd consent to an interview."

"The Daily Planet, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's correct."

She frowns slightly, and Clark has an inkling that it is because he called her ma'am. The silence stretches for a while, and Clark takes the opportunity to survey the area. Her home is modest. There are very few extravagances within it. For a woman who once had everything, it seems a harsh extreme for her.

"I've already informed people at the Planet that I have no desire to be interviewed. Your paper has seen enough of my face and my name on it. Now if that is all-"

Clark shifts uneasily. Perry wants him to get this interview badly. He set the task to Lois, but the petite woman before Clark had in no uncertain terms turned down the interview. She wants to be left alone and while Clark can understand that morbid curiosity also plays a role in why he is in her home.

"Even if it would give you the opportunity to tell the story from your point of view?"

"And how could I expect your paper to show any partiality after Superman Divorces Wife: Alleged Accomplice in the Murder of Thousands?"

Clark winces. Lois had been a little vicious in her choice of titles for that article.

"There's nothing I can say to make you trust me. All I can say is that I believe in honest journalism. I never go after anyone with the intention of causing pain."

Her lips quirk oddly at his words, and Clark can't help but wonder what he said that she finds amusing.

"Alright, Mr. Kent. What do you want to know?"

Clark fumbles with his phone for a second. "Do you mind if I record this?"

"Do what you must."

Clark nods, sets up his phone, and asks his first question, "How did you meet the Dictator Kal-El?"

She frowns again, and Clark wonders if she ever smiles. "Please, I have to ask that you not refer to my husband in that manner. If you must speak of him, then please be respectful and call him Kal or Kal-El."

They are going to sacrifice her to a monster to save their lives or to do what they can not. Kill her. While Sakura can understand it, she doesn't hate them any less. She has been in their custody for at least a year. She's not confident since her days and nights roll together. Sakura can no longer remember how she arrived in a world where the ninja way is dead and torture because of fear of the unknown is the norm. They want to understand how her chakra works. Not that they know that it is chakra that enables her to heal herself. They merely recognize that whatever her ability is, it allows her to escape time and again. Somehow, though, they track her down and find her once more.

After her capture and subsequent torture, she hasn't said a word. She is a ninja well-versed in the art of torture. She can withstand anything they throw at her. She merely bides her time and waits for the opportunity to escape. That opportunity never comes.

When they prepare her for him, it is with the hope that he will be displeased with her and do their dirty work for them. Still, they force her to heal herself and scrub her body free of the dry blood stains that make her unrecognizable.

They dress her in white and call her beautiful. She wonders if the opinion was the same as when her skin remained bloodstained.

It is an off the shoulder dress as well as sheer, and they allow her to wear nothing beneath it. The dress is chiffon and loose. It flutters around her body and stops at her knees. They give her no shoes, lest she decides to make a run for it. Her hair, which falls midway down her back, is unbound making her feel like a woodland nymph.

Once they prepare her sufficiently, they take her to see the ruler of the world she currently inhabits. Sakura knows, but those who guard her do not, her escorts are not expected to come back alive.

The expectation is that the Dictator will be displeased with their gift and will, in turn, kill Sakura and the messengers. Sakura does not feel the least bit sorry for either-especially when one of them shoves her to get her to move faster. Sakura does not oblige. While Sakura wants to become better acquainted with her old friend Death, she certainly isn't about to go looking for him to appease her captors.

After a seeming eternity, she stands before the one they call The Dictator, Superevil, and all manner of names and is shocked speechless.

The man is beautiful beyond words. He is also built like a man should be. He looks strong and powerful. He wears all black, and the letter S is on his chest. He folds his arms and stares directly into her eyes. Sakura will not allow herself to be intimidated by his size and stature. If she is going to die, she will die on her feet as she is always meant.

The oddest thing happens then. The Dictator's lips slightly quirk upward before all traces of amusement disappear.

He turns away from her and addresses her captors.

"You have done well. Your lives are spared for a while. Leave and deliver that message to your section of the government."

Sakura can tell that they are in shock. She isn't sure if it is because they realize how much danger they had been in or if they are surprised he views her as an acceptable prize. If it is the latter Sakura isn't sure she understands either.

The women don't have to be told twice to leave. Sakura doesn't watch them scurry away. Instead, she keeps her eyes on her new captor waiting to see how much further into hell her life is going to sink.

The answer becomes 'a lot further' when he proves his lack of sanity by extending his hand to her and saying, "Marry me."