Author's Note : Enjoy! :D I'm not sure why my one-shot keeps getting longer and longer. Mm, I hope I don't bore you with this story though. Anyway, happy reading!

Disclaimer : I do not own Naruto.

Summary : Post-Canon. Sometimes you couldn't let go of the past without facing it again. In which Sasuke was broken, Sakura was frightened, and a shared journey to salvation eventually bloomed into love.

Lightning flashed in the leaden horizon, every intense burst swiftly followed by an assaulting roar of thunder. Despite the warmth radiating from the heater, cold seeped under Haruno Sakura's satin nightgown, settling its chilliness on her ivory, milky skin. Peering out through the window on her bedside, Sakura could barely make out the houses along the tree-lined main street of Konoha, obscured by the endless downpour pelting the ground with such force.

Everyone in the village had retired for the night, as she should herself. Dawn would come early. Her job as the head medic-nin at the Konoha Hospital was both physically and mentally taxing that she would need all the rest she could get, every miniature second indispensable. With a heavy surge of training casualties due to the impending ANBU examination on top of the medical prowess shortage at the hospital, the next couple of weeks would be incredibly hectic for Sakura.

Even so, she lingered.

Saying farewell to an unrequited love required time.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Sakura released a ragged sigh, the sound conveying the harsh trials, the hardships she had stumbled upon while trying to worm her way into his heart, with no avail. For more than half a decade now, she had harbored hope that he might be interested in her. It had been six arduous, exhausting years.

Averting her gaze from the float glass, Sakura clapped her eyes on the wooden picture frame of team 7 resting on the nightstand. Within the sphere of illumination cast by the night lamp, his profile looked so majestic, so lifelike that she half expected him to turn and scowl at her in his typical brooding demeanor.

Sasuke. He used to make her feel cherished, at ease and secure, just like how he once defended her during their first mission to the Nami no Kuni. It had been years since she thought of that day, the time when a mere infatuation budded into a beginning of something deeper, more potent. Devoid of hesitation, he had stood between her and Zabuza, never minding that their mountainous difference in power might bring him harm.

Encompassed in a waft of nostalgia, the memory conjured itself in her mind with such clarity that for a moment she nearly forgot she was standing there. Like for an everlasting instant she was floating, that there was no present, only yesterday, she a fragile little girl, he her picture-perfect protector.

A crash of thunder reverberated in her dimly lit bedroom.

Sakura blinked, reality and all its harshness came sweeping back to her. Self-awareness soon followed. No, she no longer needed protection, and as much as she hated it, Sasuke was a changed man.

A part of her had hated him for what he became, another fraction close to tears. She grieved what he had become. Bitter revelation about Konoha's involvement in the Uchiha massacre had turned him to a ruthless and domineering man.

Sakura's breath gushed from her lungs. She could still distinctly remember the feeling of his cold hand on her skin, the forbidding ring of his voice, and the haze of pain as his fingers tightened against her neck. Feeling slightly unbalanced, she grabbed the windowsill for support.

She had always prided herself as being devotedly determined in her feelings for Sasuke. Granted, her love had never wavered. But something inside her had spurred the moment he attempted to kill her, an unnerving and compelling emotion that were incomprehensible, that she did not like but could not help feeling.

Fear.

She feared him.

With a quivering and progressing intensity, as if a kernel of terror had lodged itself deep inside her and the very lushness of the environment seemed to feed on it, the way it encouraged ferns to grow in the unlikeliest cracks in the sidewalks.

The fact that he had been formally reinstated back as a Konoha shinobi hadn't generated the elation, the delight she had imagined within her myriad of daydreams. In the vicinity of his presence, the visualization of her strangulation kept replaying itself on her mind, eliciting a claustrophobic panic that couldn't be dismissed. Near him, she behaved like a cornered animal, helpless and frightened.

Her lips turned up sadly at the corners. All her lifetime, her dreams had spun around Sasuke, once truly believing that a home and children with him were a possibility. She had envisioned being married during a beautiful nuptial mass just like her parents, wishing with all her heart that she and Sasuke could weave the same magic.

Sakura swallowed, struggling to dispel the tight, constricting ache enveloping her chest. The old adage was true though, reality seldom turned out so magical. As much as the child in her hated to admit it, she could no longer find solace or comfort in Sasuke's company. Not if the thought of meeting him terrified her as nothing else could.

She should be content with her resolution in letting him go. His cold-blooded deed had inflicted a paranoia in her that ran deeper than flesh, hard to forget and even more difficult to forgive. The chance of her getting over that fear would be close to naught. Coupled by his painstakingly unconcealed disinterest in a romantic attachment with her, it was the only logical path to take.

She knew she couldn't live the rest of her life trapped in the past.

And yet…

Sakura bend forward, clutching the wooden picture frame with trembling hands. She touched her fingertips on the portrait, tailing the contour of his masculine face, the regal line of his nose, and the perfect scowl on his mouth, her own curving into heartbreaking smile. Crystalline tears welled behind her lashes, brilliant, turning her eyes into glistening pools of emeralds.

No, not yet.

She did not think she was quite ready to say a final farewell to her feelings for him.

Heaving a shrill, short sigh, she hugged her waist and closed her eyes. Drops of liquid shine now rolled down her cheeks. Sasuke had been such an important existence in her life, the center of her dream, her innocent love. Once, he had made her feel cherished and protected. Regardless of the absence of his romantic sentiment for her, was it wrong to treasure those memories? Did it matter she could never act upon her love due to an irrational bout of paranoia?

She just wanted to hold on and bask in her feelings for a little longer.

Yes, just a little more. And then she would try to forget, shoving away her dreams and hope and sweet memories of him.

It wasn't as if she would ever see him that much, she reasoned inwardly. In fact, their exchanges had been extremely infrequent she could easily count them with merely her fingers. All of which was within the professional realm of a mission. Since her employment as the leading superior at the hospital, she had been completely engrossed in her obligation, entirely overwhelmed with the responsibility that came with such position to actually spare time interacting with him.

Liar. You spend time with Naruto all the time.

Images of Naruto's disappointed frowns as she rejected invitations after invitations of team dinner flashed swiftly through her mind, accompanied with his frustrated moping at her continual evasion whenever the topic of team training came up. A peculiar tightness rose in her throat. Okay, the lack of interaction might not be so coincidental after all. But what was she to do, so consumed was she by fright at the mere thought of meeting him?

Drawing several controlled breaths to regain control of her jumbled emotions, Sakura sank into the edge of the mattress. Not for the first time since the heavy rain had started, the rosette-haired woman felt inexplicably lonesome.

Drifting in the misty unreality of dreams, Uchiha Sasuke yielded to the images moving slowly through his mind. The details gained clarity, seeming more lifelike as he sank deeper into slumber. He was running along the river of the Uchiha compound, the anemic glow of moonlight his only solace against the eternity of darkness blanketing the streets, the zenith of dark blue above him devoid of stars.

His footsteps slowed as he saw the sprawling expanse of the traditional two-story Japanese wooden house that was the clan's main building, its clay-tiled rooftops silhouetted against the dark. Padding closer, Sasuke admired the porch decoration, a sharp ache throbbing in the center of his chest at the nostalgic sight. Planter boxes filled with trailing greenery lined the entry rails, two large pots of colorful roses flanking the sliding shoji door. The koi pond, gorgeously decorated with iris flowers along its edges, bathed under a sphere of moonbeams.

His appraisal only lasted for a meager minute before an awful sense of dread suddenly filled him.

Heart galloping laboriously as if it was trying to beat its way out of his ribs, Sasuke clenched his jaw before warily scanned the clearing, halting his gaze at the main entrance. A looming shadow dressed in black caught the edge of his peripheral vision, twin imposing pinwheels shimmering red beyond bottomless black pupils. Long raven hairs and aristocratic features, a carbon copy of his own, greeted his eye.

"Nii-san?"

In the distant corner of his mind, he recognized that this was only a dream.

But then…

Sasuke frowned. He could distinctly hear the rustling of leaves in the breeze; feel the night chill caressing his skin. This couldn't be a dream, he thought. No, the visions were too vivid and the sounds too tangible for this to be a product of mere imagination.

Hope surged through his stomach, relentless possibilities barging his mind until an awful dizziness took place.

Maybe a miracle had happened, and he's been hurtled back to the past. Maybe he was given a second chance, and Nii-san had been brought to life. Maybe God had answered his plea, and the Uchiha massacre had never happened.

Sasuke raced forward, bursting with anticipation. He reached a hand toward his brother, wanting and needing and hoping to believe that this might actually be real.

In a twinkling, just as his fingertips grazed the cotton material of his sleeve, the ground under his feet shifted and seemed to jerk. He fell then, endlessly plunging down, submerged in abysmal blackness as thick as crude oil.

Hitting the bottom, Sasuke frantically leaped to his feet, only to realize that his surroundings had transformed.

A pungent metallic smell saturating the air hit his nostrils in a sudden cacophony an instant before he saw his older sibling, standing in the middle of his family living area, lithe arm gripping a bloody sword with a force that turned his knuckles white. The mangled, lifeless figure of their parents lied beyond him, crimson pouring out of their upper torsos, an endless gush pooling the tatami mats.

Sasuke's nerves pulsed crazily as their gazes met. The stark, raw pain in Itachi's eyes, a testimony of his fathomless self-loathing and remorse, burned with an overwhelming intensity that made his mouth immediately lost all moisture.

"Sasuke." Itachi's voice was surprisingly gentle, filled with warmth and affection.

Sasuke's body drew taut. "Nii-san?" His eyes widened in horror as Itachi walked towards him. The older Uchiha stopped then, before bending down to raise a trembling hand in front of his brother's face.

And then slowly, slowly he poked his finger on Sasuke's forehead before throwing an anguished smile his way. "Sorry, Sasuke," he whispered.

"This is the last time."

Then Itachi sank to the floor, blood suddenly splashing profusely over his dark-colored shinobi shirt and down his legs. Blood, so much blood struggling its way out of his muscular body. The terrorizing vision raised goose bumps on Sasuke's skin and he found himself shaking violently.

"Nii-san?" he rasped.

No answer.

No, it couldn't be.

Sasuke stared at the deceased form of his brother, motionless in a coagulating pool of his own body fluid. The pressure building in his eyes was overwhelming, as though his eyeballs were prickled by a thousand sharp, jarring spikes. In a fleeting second, he felt as though everything had disappeared. Legs atremble, Sasuke dropped to his knees, hands clutching his head like a lifeline. Tears ran down his cheeks, tears of helpless, impotent sorrow.

A long, agonized scream resounded in the eerie lull of the night, echoing along the hollow Uchiha district, the sound one of complete despair.

Sasuke jerked awake.

In a momentary lull of silence, he stared blankly up at the familiar wooden rafters of the ceiling, fair skin glistening with sweat and legs tangling in the uchiwa-printed sheets. His heartbeat had adopted an erratic cadence, as if too upset by the myriad of unfolding events in his nightmare. Expelling a sharp exhalation of breath, the Uchiha struggled to slap a lid on the torrents of anxiety enveloping his being.

He needed to remember that it was all a dream. It was not real, he thought wryly.

Everything had ended, for almost two years now.

His life had been rather peaceful following the war and confrontation with Madara, a blur of relentless trainings, unceasing missions and rank advancements. His penance, a six month of in-house probation, had passed in a snap of his fingers.

Not that the punishment would ever be proficient enough to ever redeem his wrongdoings, though.

Sasuke grimaced. Remembering his past actions, his foolishness during the passage of his absence from Konoha had always made him nauseous.

Since ultimately, it had almost cost him the demise of his teammates.

At that, the pain in his chest grew that he felt as if he might burst from the pressure. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. No. He had changed now.

The enlightening conversation with the former Hokages of Konoha had eased the turbulent confusion hazing his logical reasoning process, exposing him to the erroneous flaw in his path towards redemption through revenge. The sense of camaraderie he'd felt as he'd struggled alongside Naruto and Sakura in the battle against Madara had showed him that he hadn't been entirely alone in his journey to certify Konoha's well-being.

And finally, the war had revealed to him that his former assumption of the villagers as being unworthy of his devotion might not be so accurate after all, with the entire Konoha ninjas proving their unrelenting determinations to protect the village.

It'd been a hard lesson learned, but the realization had etched itself deeply in his mind. Sasuke had then regained his purpose, resolutely reassessing his shattered loyalties and rebuilding the foundation of his shaken trust towards his hometown.

It'd prompted his decision to stay at the village afterwards.

As oddly peculiar as it was, the calmness that his choice had brought upon had removed any lingering hesitations to leave, chasing away the urge to second guess himself. As if for the first time in years, the emotional storm tormenting his very being had ended. As if he'd finally been... freed.

Or so he'd thought.

It had been then that a ruthless bout of nightmares had emerged, cold and petrifying.

Sasuke swore with vicious inventiveness. A string of events from the past had always haunted his sleep, but he'd always thought the night terrors would eventually subside on their own. After everything was over.

Everything had been over.

And yet, the nightmares had remained.

They had remained, persevering all throughout the duration of his stay in Konoha.

They had even exacerbated in the last two weeks, halting any of his attempts to rest and invoking him with an inconsolable case of insomnia, something which might essentially jeopardize his duty as an elite Jounin. After all, the Godaime Hokage would never send a weary, fatigued shinobi on a mission. Especially considering he was usually assigned on gratifyingly dangerous missions, given his remarkable skills.

Not that he was complaining about the gruesomeness of his job, as it was a step mandatory for reaching his goal. Warranting the internal security of the village by joining the notorious ANBU, just like his brother, was something what he had anticipated to do since his return two years ago. The prerequisite of its passing included a completion of at least thirty S-ranked missions, something which was not so easily achieved.

Comprehension dawned as the gravity of the situation belatedly hit Sasuke like a punch to his gut.

ANBU.

With its open recruitment right around the corner, his circumstances were swiftly becoming an increasingly pressing issue, in need of an immediate attention. It was a well-known fact that the initiating test was exceedingly demanding, incredibly straining for both the body and mind.

Sasuke had never doubted his capability to pass, naturally. In between his countless selection of jutsus, repertoire of battle tactics, and proficiency with the Sharingan, he was almost expected to sail through the examination like a walk in the park. The downfall of several Akatsuki members would be a sure enough testament to the extent of his power, one worthy for even the notoriously known organization.

What he hadn't considered, however, was the magnitude of exhaustion brought about by his excruciatingly aggravating insomnia. Awakening in such a terrible state of distress, the hostile dream had always obliterated any of his further urge to sleep.

And yet he needed to rest. The past couple of few days had been especially terrible, since he was forced to settle with an utmost three hours of sleep daily. His chakra was now drained and in desperate need to be replenished, and that cannot be sorted out by sustenance alone.

Forgoing sleep was no longer an option.

Sasuke raked his hair, leaving damp furrows in the wake of his fingers. As demoralizing as it was to his pride, it appeared blatantly obvious that he required medical attention.

Fast.

A hollow feeling gnawed deep in Sasuke's gut. As far as medical care was concerned, there was only one woman he would ever trust enough to watch his back. His former teammate, who had been, for the lack of better terms, detached since his arrival back to the village. Who had evaded him like a plague throughout any mission they'd been assigned together, whose unremitting absence at team training he had never inquired about, only stomached. Her skittish endeavor, along with the alarming panic on her emerald eyes every time his gaze met hers, told him what he needed to know.

She feared him now.

So he'd endured her lack of inclination to ever reconcile their prior companionship, swallowing the bitter taste of helplessness that sat firmly at the back of his tongue. Over the years, he'd gradually begun to abandon all hope. Hope that somehow the love he knew she had felt for him might give her the fragile courage to take a chance on him, take a chance on reestablishing their bond.

He'd accepted that his life at Konoha, back home, would never again be the same.

No, not without her.

It was wondrous how effortlessly he could have associated the word 'home' to his bond with team 7. Once upon a time, the word had affiliated to him boisterously entering a traditional Japanese household after a long bout of training, a burst of anticipation surging through his nerve endings for the Uchiha patriarch's acknowledgement of his outstanding performance during class. The smell of his mother's mouth-watering cooking would waft the air, greeting him even from a distance away. His pertinacious demands for Itachi's tutelage would be retorted by a lighthearted ruffle against his unruly hair and a poke on the forehead, much to the younger Uchiha's chagrin.

When everyone dear to him had been whipped away in a heartbeat, a chunk of his heart was torn apart. He had repudiated the hurt by building a towering wall, exceptionally guarding his wounded heart and never letting anyone close enough to offer any kinship.

Then Naruto and Sakura had come along, trouncing brick after brick of his barriers, before merrily filling the gap previously hollowed by the passing of his relatives.

Immediately, Naruto had embraced the part of an infuriating rival. A sibling he'd wanted to throttle but didn't, since at the end of the day, the blonde-haired shinobi had always provided Sasuke with a fulfilling sense of brotherhood he had long forgotten.

Sakura's role in patching up his forlorn self had been subtle, less blatant but equally as important, if not more. She had nurtured him, brushing aside his aloof attitude in favor of offering support and affection. And she had given him all those things with unfailing gentleness and understanding far beyond her years. With a devotion as infinite as a bottomless well, her dedication to tending him throughout the duration of his hospitalization after the chuunin exam had caught him off-guard, her passionate and considerate conducts so strikingly similar to his mother that it awakened a throb of longing in his gut.

In that instant, brief though it was, his childhood mind had promptly raced with all the possibilities that a future with Sakura might pose, the resurrection of Uchiha clan foremost in his thoughts. Sasuke'd known, then and there, that should opportunity to pursuit his second ambition ever arise, Sakura would undisputedly be the one he choose to marry.

An ear-splitting roar of thunder resounded around the room, dragging his mind back to the present. Lightning flickered, luminously illuminating the pictorial record of team 7 sitting near his bedside. Faces of his teammates as well as his own stared back at him from the framed photograph.

Naruto and Sakura.

Both represented an indispensable fraction of the future he craved for, an embodiment of the impeccable home he wanted to reside in.

It was ironic how he had been the one liable for crushing that dream himself, essentially shattering it the moment he'd attempted to wrench Sakura's life.

He understood, heartbreakingly so, of her paranoia and need to preserve her distance.

But it didn't stop it from hurting.

Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use hovering after the past, he inwardly mused, for he could do absolutely nothing to alter it. What mattered more was the present, the here and now and what was yet to come.

Sakura.

He sought to recapture more than just memories. He yearned to hear more of her melodious laughters and soothing utterances. His condition, as odious as it was, ignited a flicker of opportunity to rekindling their relationship, an excellent catalyst for letting her get accustomed to his presence.

He knew what he had to do if he wanted her back into his life.

The question was…

Did he have the courage to do it?

After a poor night's rest, Sakura roused in slow increments just after dawn to the knocking of the door. Slipping from the bed, she grabbed her robe and shoved her arms down the sleeves, all the while grumbling slightly under her breath. Her inner alarm clock would not start ringing until it was well after eight. Who would be imprudent enough to visit her at such an unreasonable hour? Especially since her ferocious morning temper was a notoriously known legend around the village, courtesy of the tattletale Naruto and his gigantic mouth.

Another round of knock echoed, a three spaced raps, just as she passed the living area to reach the entryway. Her oval face promptly drained of color the moment she whipped the door open, suddenly wide-awake.

"Sa-Sasuke-kun?" she asked in a frail voice.

"Sakura."

His deep silken voice sent a shower of shudder over Sakura's skin. Mouth as dry as a dust, she blinked and swallowed, trying to assimilate the reality that the Uchiha was standing before her. The anxiety, along with the shock of meeting him, left her nauseous.

"May I come in?"

Sakura stiffened, head brimming with so many thoughts she could not begin to sort them.

Sasuke was here.

Sasuke, the man she had vowed to let go, but couldn't, just requested to be invited into her apartment. Only yesterday, she recalled reassuring herself that she would never have to endure any private moment with him, and suddenly here he was, looking so maddeningly beautiful in a Jounin vest and dark blue shinobi shirt, the sleeves folded back over thick, well-muscled forearms. Everything about him screamed masculine, and everything feminine within her responded.

And yet, amidst the stab of longing, she could not chase away the horrible, terrorizing sensation in her stomach that kept crawling up her throat. The thought of bolting fleetly crossed her mind, and she was greatly tempted to close the door in his face and retreat to the security of her lush, comfortable bed.

Only she couldn't.

So swallowing her distress and a great deal of uneasiness, Sakura forced down a hesitant smile.

"S-Sure."

She drew the door open more widely, silently inviting Sasuke in. He stepped across the threshold, following as she scurried unsteadily into the living room, then slightly further until they reached the adjoining kitchen.

"Um. I'm going to make some coffee. Would you like some?"

"Aa."

Motioning him toward the chair at the round mahogany dining table, she said, "Have a seat, then."

As she busied herself, clanging around the kitchen to prepare the concoction, Sasuke settled himself into the chair, absentmindedly trailing his gaze at the surrounding. A ray of sunlight, bright and radiant, illuminated the well-polished hardwood, slanted through the patina curtains of the breakfast-nook window. The front of refrigerator was brimmed with magnets that the silver door barely showed. At the corner of the room, Sakura hovered over the dark brown coffee machine sitting at the counter, its carafe full and already emitting the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Sasuke flexed his shoulders. The overall atmosphere enveloping the pantry was so reflective of Sakura, warm, lively, and soothing, that it slightly eased away the nervousness niggling up his spine.

The same cannot be said for the host herself though. Head bent over the coffee pot, she worked without uttering any word, the difference in demeanor from her usually spirited one blatantly displayed. After opening the cupboard to get some mugs, she filled them with the piping-hot brew before rigidly padded to the table and taking a seat across him.

"H-Here you go."

Straightening, Sasuke took the mug, staring at it for a fleeting second before turning to look at Sakura. She had adopted a perfectly deadpanned expression, but from the taut way she held herself, he knew she was anything but imperturbable.

They drink coffee in frigid silence, a far cry from the conventional companionship of old comrades. Time passed, measured in his ear by a slightly erratic thumping of his heart, before he set his cup to the table and finally gathered enough courage to talk.

"Sakura."

Sakura lifted her gaze from the porcelain cup. "What's wrong?" she asked in a faint voice. "Why are you here?"

"I need a favor."

She could scarcely credit her ears. "Huh?" she responded lamely.

He shifted uneasily in his chair before repeating the request in a firmer tone, "I need a favor, Sakura."

Confusion washed over her in scalding wave. Sasuke would seldom implore assistance, unless absolutely critical. "What favor, Sasuke-kun?"

Sasuke sighed. "I have trouble sleeping."

Sakura's delicate brow scrunched together over the bridge of her nose, a mystified expression settling on her face. But as she studied his features and detected a vulnerability that she hadn't realized until now, her heart ached. His burnished face, chiseled with manhood, was lined with exhaustion. His ivory skin was ashen with undertones of gray, the dark smudges under his eyes blatantly evident. His broad shoulder, usually held proudly erect, slumped as if he carried an invisible thousand-pound load.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"I've been having nightmares." The words came hard, catching behind Sasuke's larynx. "I can't seem to get back to sleep after having one, and they've been more recurrent for the past two weeks."

The pain in her chest grew more intense. "Oh, Sasuke-kun."

"Aa," he said gruffly. "The nightmares have always been there since that day, but never this frequent."

Sakura closed her eyes. She knew he referred to the day the Uchiha clan had been obliterated from existence, everyone except him and his brother. During that time, Sasuke had metamorphosed from an innocent little boy to an avenger far possessed by disdain. Just thinking about emotional trauma he went through made Sakura's stomach roil.

"I need your help." Sasuke's onyx eyes settled on Sakura. "Is there a cure for this?"

Sakura could think of several ways to treat his sleep disturbance, but ultimately it would not help much as long as the nightmares remained. "I guess I could brew you a medicinal concoction to help you sleep." She sighed and shook her head. "But it cannot dissipate your nightmares, unfortunately," she continued pensively.

The coffee Sasuke had just swallowed tried to push back up his throat. Voice strained, he asked, "So, the nightmares cannot be treated?"

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she considered the question. "It's not that they can't be treated," she expounded. "You have what is called a posttraumatic stress disorder, something commonly developed after experiencing a severely traumatizing event. Its treatment relies solely on a behavioral therapy, which basically is like psychological counseling."

Throwing an uncertain gaze his way, she toyed with her mug, trailing her fingers against the porcelain edge. "I don't think that's the kind of treatment you want though."

Silence descended, a rigid, breathless silence, in which Sasuke felt numb all over and oddly disconnected from everything around him. Counseling. Was he so broken to have to resort to that? The realization made him feel small, helplessness shooting through him in a painful rush. Strength seeped out of his body that if it hadn't been for the chair, he would have fallen.

A pang of sadness hit Sakura as she saw the anguished expression on Sasuke's face. Strong and aloof, he had always put her in mind of a juniper tree indigenous to the surrounding dessert terrain, rock hard to the very core and sturdy enough to withstand anything. And now he had been defeated by a nightmare. Uchiha Sasuke, so painfully proud and insufferably arrogant, crushed by a recollection of his agonizing past.

"Will you-" Sasuke broke off, swallowed, and then stared at her with what could only be mounting dismay. "Will you help me with that?"

Sakura stiffened. "With the counseling, you mean?"

He nodded.

"You could easily get some help from the hospital, Sasuke-kun. I can even refer you to a friend of mine specializing on that area," she ventured hesitantly.

Sasuke propped her elbows on the table, hands knotted into fists. He closed his eyes, his throat working. "I only trust you."

Sakura clutched the coffee mug, hands trembling slightly that the dark liquid sloshed over to her hands. It burned, but she never registered the pain. "I-" she rasped.

"Please, Sakura."

She bent her head, gazing at the cracks in her wooden floor. The world became a muddle as she mulled over her options. Her first inclination was to say no, but then uncertainty hit her. Did she want to help Sasuke? Yes, desperately. She knew a severe case of posttraumatic stress disorder when she saw one, having treated several shinobis sporting the same condition. Sasuke's definitely counted.

With a sinking sensation though, Sakura realized what offering assistance would mean. Psychological counseling, with its effectiveness in addressing dysfunctional emotion, would be the perfect management for his condition. The therapy, nevertheless, was lengthy, demanding at least a couple of sessions before the symptoms could disappear.

It would be a long and grueling journey to salvation. She thought dejectedly of the extended amount of times she would have to spend with Sasuke, and promptly paled.

Could she handle the paranoia?

She doubted that.

And yet…

Sasuke needed her. She would have felt bad about discouraging anyone who had sought her for medical attention, but she had an inkling rejecting Sasuke would have taken the word bad to the next level.

An immeasurable amount of guilt would wash over her, as inevitable as a rain during cloudburst, should she ever refused to help. Of why, she did not know. Maybe it was her lingering affection for him, or the wounded vulnerability blatantly displayed on his face, or perhaps both.

Another glance at his distressed face what all it took to steel her determination to help him.

Clenching her hands into fist, Sakura shoved away any remaining hesitancy from the recesses of her mind. Eyes brimming with resolve, Sakura leaned forward. "Of course, Sasuke-kun."

Startled, Sasuke snapped his head up. Relief flooded through him as the corners of her mouth twitched in a slight smile.

"I'll help you."

For a long moment, he looked at her.

Then, so softly she almost couldn't hear him, he whispered, "Thank you, Sakura."

Sakura paced the floor of her living area the next night, glancing repeatedly at the clock. She tried her best to ignore the horrible nervousness clenching her body, but she wasn't successful, even by half. Her first session with Sasuke was coming in about thirty minutes. She had come forward to lend him her assistance, but now that the reality was upon her, she wondered what she had been thinking.

Insanity had surely struck, for it made no sense to flee a man in fright, then suddenly accept his request and spend some time alone with him in her apartment.

But here she was, about to do just exactly that.

Honestly, her current feelings for Sasuke were unbearably confusing. Like a mixture of fear and discomfort and longing that warred for supremacy, each one trying to dominate the other in a never-ending battle.

Refusing to think of the ordeal ahead of her, Sakura sighed, sinking into her overstuffed velvet couch, draped with slipcovers. There was nothing interesting on the television, so she spent the next half an hour rereading some medical scrolls related to posttraumatic stress disorder, preparing the material for the counseling. She had just finished reading one explaining the disease's etiological cause when a knock finally reverberated from the door.

Five to seven. He was early, she pondered, just like he had been in the past. It was comforting to know that something in him remained the same after the years. Sakura could distinctly recall how he was always the first one present during their past team trainings and mission briefings.

Sweat clamming her palms, Sakura opened the door, coming face-to-face with Sasuke.

"Sa-Sasuke-kun."

He inclined his head, a brief dip that barely passed for a nod. "Sakura."

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Sakura retreated a step to allow him entry. "Come in." She gestured him forward.

Sakura led the way to the living room, where the flat-screen television in between the built-in bookcases cast flickering light. In front of it, several scrolls scattered carelessly on the oak trunk that served as a coffee table.

Sakura took a seat on the couch, her eyes turned to Sasuke where he sat in an easy chair across her. Agony lashed her like a boulder in the chest. He looked as exhausted as he did yesterday, she noted, maybe even more so. The bone deep weariness of his expression made him seem far older than her eighteen years. A glance into his bloodshot eyes, grim mouth, and taut shoulder told her more than she needed to know.

God. The nightmare had assaulted his sleep again last night.

Calm dawn, she told herself. She ought to focus. She needed to do this.

For Sasuke.

Eyes sliding shut, she replayed those two words repeatedly in her mind, like a witch's chant. It worked quite well in soothing her discomfort, easing the tension from her body. No matter what, she would go through with this, she thought determinedly. For Sasuke.

Sakura straightened, drew in a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

"Are you ready, Sasuke-kun?" she asked, flashing him a reassuring smile.

"Aa."

"Alright. The focus of this counseling is to help you deal with the trauma, rather than avoiding it," she began. "It is actually fairly simple. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're just going to answer them truthfully."

A tiny frown pleated Sasuke's brow. "That's it?"

He sounded so incredulous that her emerald eyes twinkled in amusement. "That's it, Sasuke-kun."

Sasuke lifted his broad shoulders in a slight shrug. To him, that sounded easy enough.

Sakura nodded. "The first step of the therapy entails exploring your thoughts and feelings regarding the traumatic experience." She threw a hesitant gaze at him. "I need you to tell me about the Uchiha massacre."

Sasuke's eyes delved into hers, his eyes mirroring so many emotions that she couldn't pinpoint them all. Sakura did know he looked uncomfortable. "You already know it about it, Sakura."

His tongue turned cottony. "Everybody in the village knows."

Sakura heaved a small sigh, shaking her head. "It's different, Sasuke-kun. I need to know what you experience then, particularly your feelings about it."

His heart twinged. "I've never talked with anyone about it."

"I know this is hard for you," she said carefully, "but numbing yourself and avoiding the memory will only exacerbate your posttraumatic stress disorder. You can't escaped your feelings completely, they emerge under stress or when you let down you guard. That's why you've been having so many nightmares."

For a moment, Sasuke clenched his teeth, the tendons along each side of his jaw corded with tension. "Aa." He cleared his throat, not entirely sure how to commence. For eighteen year he had kept those memories at bay, never allowing himself to remember, only in nightmare.

"It's alright, Sasuke-kun." Her gaze on him was gentle and empathetic. "You can start with how it all happened."

So he gathered his courage, and plunged away. "It was shorty after dusk," he began huskily, and as he said those words, he was taken back to the years of a warm summer night, when the moon hung in the sky like a supper plate. "I was returning home late after training, walking down the main road of Uchiha district. At that time I never suspected anything was wrong."

Sasuke closed his eyes. "And then I saw them."

Her pulse stuttered at the shadow of hurt in his eyes. "What is it, Sasuke-kun?"

Silence. Then his voice came in the air, wobbly and hoarse. "The bodies, Sakura."

Sakura had never heard Sasuke sound so shaken.

"My uncles, my aunts, my cousins. All my relatives. Everyone motionless, bleeding to death." In his mind, he could still see them clearly, only now through the eyes of a young man. "I started crying, panicking. I didn't know what to do. I have never felt so scared in my whole life."

He swallowed hard. A lump had lodged in his throat, making it difficult for him to talk. "And then I rushed through the street, frantically looking for my parents, hoping their bodies weren't there. Hoping that they were alive."

"Oh, Sasuke-kun."

"When I couldn't find them, I ran to my house, still searching. They were there on the living room, their bodies frozen cold and lifeless." Sasuke clasped his hands on his lap, the clench of his fingers so tight his knuckles went pale. "I'll never forget the pool of red all around the ground. Blood was everywhere, pouring out of their bodies. And Itachi was there, standing in the middle of the room."

A shimmer of brightness in Sasuke's eyes told her he was fighting tears. "I was petrified."

He swallowed again, not sure he could finish. "When I asked him what he did, he told me he had killed everybody. Every single Uchiha in the clan. He made me think he's a criminal, the killer who slaughtered all members of my clan. Then he said I was not worth killing. He told me to get stronger, to live a life of vengeance."

For several seconds, he rasped for breath. "But it was all a lie. An illusion. Two years ago, I just realized that. He didn't kill me because he couldn't bring himself to do it, even when he was ordered to."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "He loved you too much."

"Aa," he responded bitterly, his voice pitched barely above a whisper, "For him, my life weighted more the than his own life, worth more than the peace of the village."

A brief moment of quiet came over the air. "He wanted to die as a criminal, as a traitor. All for the sake of Konoha, and more than anything, for me."

Sakura's blood ran cold as a crystallized air when she saw tears beginning to trickle down his face. She could not recall ever having seen him cry. When he continued, his voice sounded hollow. "He was crying when he left, Sakura."

She regarded him in silence, yearning to comfort him so badly that she ached. "I'm so sorry, Sasuke-kun."

He nodded. "Aa. I just wish I could have done something to prevent him from dying."

She gasped. "You're not feeling guilty for his death, are you?"

"I should be."

Her small face twisted at the expression of indescribable sorrow on his eyes, as if he truly believed that he was the one responsible for his brother's death. "You know it's not your fault he died. I know Itachi-san passed away because of his illness, not because you killed him."

He propped his elbows on his knees, hands knotted hard into a fist. "I know. Sometimes I think it's better for him to just kill me along with the others and reveal the clan's plot for the coup d'état. He wouldn't have to suffer so much, having to abandon the village and live his life liked a criminal," he murmured.

"But he decided to do it anyways. For me, so that I can live. For the clan's sake, so that its reputation won't be stained. He was much more of a better man than I could ever be." Sasuke tipped his head back, smiling slightly with a trace of sadness he couldn't quite conceal. "He deserved to live more than me."

Her heart sank. "No, Sasuke-kun." She shook her head. "You cannot think like that. Itachi-san sacrificed himself for you, so you have to treasure your life more than anything. That's the least you can do for him."

"And you know what will make him happiest?"

Sasuke averted his gaze to her, eyes questioning. What would make Itachi happy? He had honestly never considered that, too overwhelmed by guilt whenever he thought about his older brother. "Me protecting Konoha?" he offered hesitantly.

Her gaze warmed. "Wrong. You being happy, on the contrary, will. He wouldn't want you to feel guilty for something that wasn't even your fault and be so consumed by sorrow," she answered benevolently. "He treasured you, more than his life. Your happiness will be the ultimate form of respect you could offer for Itachi-san's sacrifice."

Silence.

"Sometimes I don't think I even deserve to be happy, with all the deeds I've done these years," he confessed, then sighed. "I even…" His voice trailed off. "I even tried to kill you." He closed his eyes and clenched his knotted hands tighter.

"I'm sorry for what I did, Sakura."

Sakura hugged her waist and gulped the night air. She tried to collect her thought, but failed. She tried to talk, and had no luck with that, either. And even if she had been able to, words couldn't have expressed the emotions rolling through her. The immeasurable pain in his voice tied her stomach into knots, the forlorn expression on his face a telltale sign of the unparalleled guilt he felt for his action.

Uchiha Sasuke. This man had tried to kill her, instilling paranoia within her for the past two years. But she could no longer find fear she had once felt, only her love for him remained. He was just Sasuke, a broken man with a haunting past. Sasuke, who gazed at her with such sorrow, as if there was a world of heartbreak in his eyes. Sasuke, who grieved over his wrongdoing, anxious for her forgiveness.

Scalding tears burned at the back of her eyes. God. How can she ever fear him? The man before her simply did not possess the capacity to hurt anyone. This Sasuke, who had suffered so much, brought all her protective instinct to the surface, and she wanted nothing more than to ease his pain.

Not allowing herself to think beyond the moment, Sakura pushed to her feet and went to kneel in front of his chair. "You're a good man, Sasuke-kun. You've changed, and you will change for the better as time passes." She touched her palm to his cheek, caressing him with gentle strokes of her slender hands. "I'm sure of that," she whispered.

Sakura felt him tense, but then resistance left his muscular frame. He leaned more of his weight forward, as if seeking sanctuary in her touch.

"Thank you, Sakura," Sasuke said huskily. Looking down and meeting her gaze, Sasuke stiffened. She was smiling at him, mouth turned up sweetly at the corners, lending her lovely countenance a glow that made him feel as if the sun had just broken through on an overcast day. Her longing for him shone in her eyes, soft and luminous.

His belly clenched with yearning so intense it made his bone watery.

Sakura.

She was still in love with him? After all he had done to her?

After he had tried to kill her?

For the first time since his return to Konoha, Sasuke was hopeful.

The Uchiha district sat on forty acres at the east side of the village. A full moon bathed the landscape in silvery light, making the trees lining the street look more gray than green. Like diamonds in black velvet, thousands of stars twinkled down at him. As a boy, Sasuke had liked to sit on the porch with his brother to stargaze. Now, the endeavor could no longer be repeated.

He heaved a deep sigh. One short month ago, he would have never imagined himself ever stepping inside his family house again. But here he was, about to take a stroll down memory lane with Sakura. Since her announcement of coming here for a session of his therapy, he had dreaded this moment.

Sasuke strode up the entry rails to the sliding shoji door to his old house, Sakura following silently behind him. Having her here made him feel less panicked, calming him in a way he couldn't define. As if sensing his thought, she curved her lips a reassuring smile at him. "It's alright, Sasuke-kun. You can do this."

He nodded, before sliding the door open. Sasuke knew his surroundings by heart, having lived here during his childhood. They stood on the tatami-matted hallway. On the right just a few feet away was the living room, where Itachi had killed their parents.

But the memory no longer hurt. It didn't even rankle.

The relief that coursed through him was mind-blowing.

It didn't hurt anymore.

No pain clenching his stomach, no ache stabbing his chest. No, not anymore, just a hint of melancholic nostalgia clouding his mind.

Sasuke knew he owed it all to the woman behind him.

Since last month, Sasuke's routine had been altered to accommodate his counseling sessions with Sakura. They would spend an hour conversing about his past, always at night due to her shift at the hospital. Bitter remembrances that he'd desired to forget had been recalled, not only the Uchiha massacre.

For the first few sessions, their conversations had been solely focused on Itachi. Sasuke'd talked and talked, words spewing from him like a poison, until he'd felt exhausted and ran out of things to say. He'd poured it all out, until he'd felt strangely empty.

He had reluctantly admitted the muddled sense of negative emotions that always came when remembering his sacrifice. Helplessness, stemming due to his practically nonexistent ability to save him. Resentment, driven by a tidal wave of anger at Konoha's archaic decision to massacre the entire clan.

Guilt, for Itachi's chauvinistic act had all been done for his sake. Guilt, for Itachi had lost his life in exchange for his, and yet Sasuke had resented him for almost fifteen years. Guilt, so much guilt had lurked inside his mind like a disease, overshadowing every other thought and feeling.

The experiences during his absence from Konoha had also been brought into confabulation. His training under Orochimaru's tutelage, his fight with Danzou, his experience as an Akatsuki member, his encounter with Madara.

Memories had hurtled at him, bringing a pang of nearly forgotten hurt. He'd always been left with a bone deep weariness and laden feeling of defeat at the end of every session.

But it was all worth it, for his nightmare was now almost gone. He recalled seeing his reflection on the mirror this morning, and the traces of weariness had all disappeared from his face. No dark circles of exhaustion, no bloodshot eyes, no ashen face.

He felt innately rejuvenated, as if a heavy, invisible burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders.

He felt peaceful.

And he couldn't have done this without Sakura.

It was her soothing presence that made the course of the treatment more bearable. She was the anchor to his sanity, always ready with a gentle whisper and comforting stroke whenever he was overwhelmed by sorrow. His helplessness immediately seeped away as she held him and thumbed his tears, smiling in a certain way of that him feel like the most loved person in the world. Her laughter was melodious, almost like wind chimes twinkling in fresh summer breeze. Her gentle voice curled around him, working on his senses like an intoxicant.

She was his salvation, filling his empty heart with a sense of belonging and warmth. She made him feel... at home.

Sakura. Ever since he requested her help a month ago, she had been systematically changing his world. At team training, which she now regularly attended, he found himself repeatedly glancing at her, trying to catch a glimpse of her lovely complexion. He found himself holding back during his battle with her, regardless of her abilities, too afraid of ever hurting her with his attack. To him, her healing chakra was as addictive as heroin, that he sometimes deliberately let Naruto wound him just so she could treat him longer.

He also gradually began to look forward to the counseling session, as wearisome as it was, for it meant that he could spend some time alone with her.

That was when the realization struck him. He was slowly, helplessly falling in love with her.

"So, how do you feel?"

Startled, Sasuke whipped back around to look at Sakura. In a shaft of moonlight coming through the wood-framed window, her emerald eyes glimmered in concern. "I feel fine. It's like everything no longer hurts," he admitted.

"I'm glad, then." Sakura dimpled her cheeks. "Well, I guess that's the end of our therapy," she chimed delightedly. "This is our last session."

Sasuke froze. He couldn't talk to her alone anymore?

"It is?" he finally rasped.

Sakura nodded. "Yup. Your nightmare is gone, you can sleep well, and you don't feel guilty anymore. So there should be no trouble right?" Her smile deepened.

"Oh." It was all Sasuke could think to say.

"But…" She trailed off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in nervousness. "Perhaps we could meet up sometimes? For other than team training?"

Silence ensued. "Just as friends, of course," she continued swiftly.

"No."

Sakura's eyes widened. "No?" Thickness began to gather in her throat.

"No."

Pain laced through her skull. An awful, cold feeling clawed at her chest. "Oh, alright then," she uttered, her voice hollow.

"I want more."

Sakura fastened a wide emerald gaze on him. Her expression revealed her every emotion and thought, most of them disbelief. But there was also a shimmer of hope in her eyes, a longing for him that she could not quite hide.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Sasuke tugged softly on her hand. Sakura tumbled against his chest, not expecting to be jerked off balance. He cupped her face between his big hands, moving his thumbs lightly over her cheekbones in a feathery caress. When she looked into his eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

She could tell by his expression that he meant to kiss her. Her heart started to pound. Her knees started to shake. Her body started to tremble.

He was going to kiss her.

As his face drew closer, and then closer yet, his features blurred and she could feel his breath on her lips. He smelled of tomatoes, mint, male muskiness and a hint of fresh night air.

It was addicting.

And then he slowly leaned in, angling his dark head and finally settling his mouth over hers.

Silk on silk.

The kiss was as soft as a whisper at first, and then he deepened it. His mouth was hard and moist and hot and hungry. For Sakura, the world swirled in a molten eddy. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Every tender brush of his lips robbed her of the ability to think clearly and filled her with a painful yearning simply to be with him.

She clutched his shoulders and clung to him like a lifeline as she surrendered her mouth to him, parting her lips. He delved deeper, probing and claiming every honeyed recess of her mouth with flicks of his tongue. He tasted her as if she was a culinary delight and he was a starving man.

She melted.

"Sasuke-kun," she whispered as he dragged his mouth from her to grab for air, staring dazedly at him.

"I love you."

Her heart leaped. "R-Really?"

His breath stirred the tendrils of hair at her temple. "Aa."

A shimmer of tears made her eyes sparkle. "I... I do, too."

"I'm glad." A contented glow warmed his chest and he slipped his arms around her, holding her closer. "Be with me, Sakura," he muttered softly.

The sincerity in his voice had her searching for his eyes. In that moment, any lingering doubts of his feelings instantenously evaporated from her mind, for he looked at her with so much affection, so much desire and passion that was perfectly impossible to ignore.

He loved her. He truly did.

"Be with me," he repeated. "Please."

Being in love, being loved. What a great joy it was. Happiness surged through her body, an elation so magical and absolutely dear.

She loved this man. She wanted to laugh with him, cry with him, and face the trials of life with him. She yearned to ease his pain, comfort his sorrow, and ease away his guilt. How could any woman wish for more?

A feeling of peace settled over Sakura. She leaned her weight against Sasuke's solid chest, and her eyes drifted closed.

And then she smiled. "Okay."

She wouldn't want to be with anybody else.

Author's Note : So, what do you think? I hope it's not too crappy for your taste. ;) English is not my first language, but I truly hope you enjoy this.

Critics and suggestions are very much appreciated.