The Hazards of Amity

By: firefly

Note: Holy shit. That's all I can say besides I'm sorry for taking so long. But, like I mentioned in another update, I wanted to wrap up a couple fics as Naruto comes to a close. And since I'm a terrible person, this last chapter will be split into TWO parts. The second part will be posted very soon, and I swear I'm not bullshitting this time. |D Thank you to everyone for their reviews and patience!

The Hazards of Amity ch.5

The house was dark and silent when Gaara closed the door and stepped into the foyer. He stood in the hallway, noting it was close to 10 PM, and took a moment to shed his robe and hang it on the back of the coat hook. Then he ventured upstairs long enough to wash up and change into plain clothes before returning downstairs.

When he moved closer to the kitchen, Gaara noticed the dim exhaust fan light bleeding into the hallway. Someone was cooking. When he pushed aside the partition and entered, he stopped short at the entrance.

Kankuro was sitting silently at the table and Temari was mixing something at the stovetop.

Gaara stared at his siblings, instantly realising something was amiss. They didn't turn and greet him, for one, and Kankuro was quiet. That in itself was unusual.

And Temari was cooking. His sister never cooked. Not since they'd hired a maid to take care of it three years before.

But the maid was nowhere in sight and neither Temari nor Kankuro had said a single word since he'd stepped into the room. Bemused, he looked to his brother for a clue as to what was going on. Kankuro caught his eye and gave him a warning look, pointing at Temari's back and then shaking his head.

Almost immediately, an acrid smell began filling the kitchen. Kankuro exchanged wary looks with Gaara.

Whatever Temari was mixing was starting to burn. Badly.

"Uh, Temari?" Kankuro finally ventured, breaking the silence. "I think something's burning."

She abruptly stopped mixing. The words seemed to bring her out of some reverie, because she suddenly looked down at the pot and stiffened. Kankuro's eyes widened when she seized the pot and carried it over to the garbage can. They watched, startled, as she upended it and dumped the burnt mixture into the bin.

Then she placed the pot in the sink and just stood there, facing away from them.

"Temari," Gaara finally said, looking at her with concern. "Is something wrong?"

Her shoulders went rigid. Then she slowly turned around.

"Uchiha Itachi is an idiot," she said.

Gaara blinked, nonplussed.

"He doesn't know what's good for him," she continued, suddenly growing heated. "He's practically already half-dead and then he pulls something like this."

"Like what?" Kankuro hazarded, grateful she'd finally said something.

Temari threw him a disgruntled look and turned back to the sink.

"Come on, Temari. You can tell us. It's nothing private or gross, is it?"

Temari uttered an exasperated noise and pressed her hands over her face. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted. Her brothers were like bloodhounds, able to detect the slightest change in her mood, and she'd known as soon as she'd come home the night would end in an inquisition.

Though, even if she'd never admit it, a part of her was relieved. She needed to say something, if only to keep her head from exploding. And it wasn't as though she had girlfriends to talk this sort of thing over with. As siblings, they'd always had a peculiar relationship; when the occasion demanded it, she was their mother as much as their sister, and they were her confidants as much as her brothers. Perhaps in another family, it would have been weird to share something like this with brothers, but then again they'd never been the poster children for normalcy.

Sighing, Temari turned to them again. Gaara stood with his arms crossed, looking attentive and serious while Kankuro waited expectantly. Temari took another breath and rubbed her temples.

"I brought it up with him," she finally said. "That thing you mentioned a few nights back."

"What thing?" Kankuro asked, oblivious.

She gritted her teeth. "That thing. You know..." her voice grew uncharacteristically faint, "about him liking me?"

Kankuro stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. Then his features slackened in shock. "You mean it's true?"

Temari said nothing.

"Holy shit," he said in amazement. "I friggin' knew it!"

Gaara looked between the two of them, waiting for one of them to explain what they were talking about. But Kankuro only shook his head, sounding bemused. "And what, he just admitted it? Just like that?"

"More or less," Temari muttered.

Kankuro whistled in a mixture of marvel and disbelief.

Gaara narrowed his eyes, unappreciative of his exclusion. "What are you both talking about?"

They paused, then, turning their heads to look at their youngest brother. Temari hesitated, wondering how to explain this to him when Kankuro helpfully cut in.

"Sasuke's brother is in love with Temari."

Temari's face turned crimson. "You idiot. Why did you have to say it like that?"

Kankuro shrugged. "If I tried to be subtle about it, we'd be here all night."

Groaning in dismay, Temari couldn't look her youngest brother in the eye and started rubbing her temples again.

Gaara, for his part, somehow managed to contain his surprise. He looked at Kankuro to see if his brother was joking, but when the puppeteer shrugged helplessly, Gaara repeated the words back in his mind again and found that he needed to sit down.

For some reason the thought instantly made him feel ill. In his mind, a love confession equated his sister getting married and moving out of the village. How had this happened so suddenly and without him knowing? Had his sister broken a code of professional conduct? Was she planning to elope? What the hell was the appropriate thing to do besides lock her in the house and murder Uchiha Itachi?

Gaara realised his thoughts were running away with him when he noticed his siblings staring at him in apprehension. He straightened and forced his features into a stoic expression, knowing that even if the subject made him extremely uncomfortable, he had a position to uphold as Kazekage.

"Is this true?" he asked.

Temari reluctantly nodded.

"And you...feel the same way?"

Temari flinched at the question. "No. I don't."

Gaara fell silent, surprised and a little relieved.

"He's a decent person," she continued awkwardly, "but I've only thought of him as a comrade up until now."

"Wait a minute," Kankuro interjected. "I've been bugging you about that guy liking you since the beginning. Didn't that clue you in to think that maybe, hey, Itachi might really have a thing for me?"

She scowled. "He never said or did anything to make me think that. We were just friends."

"Bullshit," Kankuro said. "He had to have done something. Did he do you any special favours? Really go out of his way?"

"No," she insisted.

But when Kankuro raised an eyebrow, her resolve faltered into uncertainty. "Well, he did help a lot during the guest lectures at the academy."

"We'll give him that one," Kankuro said, rolling his eyes. "Anything else?"

Temari studied the table, frowning. "That's it. He helped me out a lot. All the time, actually. At first I just thought he did it because he's a doormat, but then I found out he did it because he's just...considerate like that. Like one time, after work, he helped me record taxonomies for the new greenhouse specimens."

Kankuro stared at her.

Temari blinked. Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "He helped me record taxonomies...for two hours."

"You idiot," her brother groaned. "How could you have not noticed that before?"

"I thought he was just being helpful," she said defensively.

"Nobody is that helpful! For God's sake, Temari. Who the hell would want to spend two hours recording plant taxonomies?"

"I don't know! It wasn't that obvious at the time!"

Kankuro only shook his head, expression pitying. "Jeez. Poor guy."

Temari shot him a look of betrayal.

Gaara stood there in silence, not understanding how taxonomies had anything to do with Itachi's affections for his sister, but he could see that this was bothering Temari a lot more than she was letting on.

Their upbringing hadn't allowed her to indulge in a social life and she'd sacrificed all romantic pursuit in favour of devoting herself to her village. It had given her a simplicity and candour that was off-putting to most men. Her relation to two Kazekages, along with her own prowess, made her intimidating enough to bar any romantic advances. He could understand why she was so flustered. And for her first confession to come from the likes of Uchiha Itachi—well, it had to be daunting.

It also explained her testiness. Temari was not one to be easily vexed. On the rare occasion it did happen, her usual response was to mediate somewhere between contempt and irritation. This seemed to be a blend of the two further complicated by feelings of genuine sympathy.

And that, more than anything, told him there was something deeper here than just your average niceties between work partners. She wouldn't be in such a state unless the friendship had meant something to her, and it was plain to see she deeply resented Itachi for doing this and bringing such misery upon himself.

Gaara looked thoughtfully at the table.

Objectively, the elder Uchiha was positively fearsome from a shinobi standpoint. He had a horrible, blood-riddled past. He'd been ranked as an S-rank criminal. He could fell formidable shinobi with a blink of an eye. But paradoxically, none of these things seemed to frighten his sister.

No, it was the fact that Uchiha Itachi liked her that had Temari terrified.

Women are strange, Gaara thought.

He was brought out of his stupor by the sound of a knock at the door. Kankuro rose from his seat to go answer it while Temari slumped back against the counter in resignation. Gaara found this side of her bewildering and upsetting, and beside the faint stirring in his heart telling him to find and kill Itachi, he felt a greater impulse to stay and offer her his support, limited as it was.

"Temari," he said quietly, when Kankuro was out of earshot, "I know I can't offer you any advice, but if there is anything I can do, please tell me."

Temari looked at him in surprise. Then her features softened and she stepped forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "No, it's nothing, Gaara. I shouldn't be worrying you with something silly like this in the first place. I can handle it."

"If it can affect you like this," he said, "it's not silly."

Temari's lips parted to speak, but Gaara's brow furrowed and he reached up. "You're strong, Temari. I know you can handle it."

He paused, touching the hand on his shoulder. "But don't handle it alone."

She fell silent, looking at him with an unreadable expression. Then she gently tightened her grip on his shoulder before letting her hand drop.

"Thanks, Gaara."

Kankuro strode towards the foyer, wondering who in God's name would be knocking at their door this late at night. It was either an emergency or a salesman with a death wish. Hoping for the latter, he steeled himself and pulled the door open.

The porch light came on. Sasuke stood awkwardly on the doorstep.

Kankuro raised his eyebrows. "Well, this is a surprise. Miss me already, junior?"

"Like a cold sore," Sasuke muttered. His eyes travelled from Kankuro's face to the ground, then into the house behind him. He finally spoke, voice terse.

"Are you busy?"

Kankuro studied his face for a moment. Then he stepped aside and held the door open. Sasuke lowered his head and wordlessly stepped inside.

By the time Kankuro locked the door again and turned to face the younger boy, the light in the kitchen was off and his siblings had already gone upstairs. Sasuke stood in the hallway with his hands in his pockets, staring fixedly into the dark.

"Nice night out," Kankuro said. "Take a seat out on the balcony. I'll be right there."

Sasuke said nothing and headed down the hallway as Kankuro went into the kitchen and got some drinks out of the fridge. He roamed around aimlessly for a while, killing enough time for Sasuke to get settled before going ahead to the balcony to join him.

He found him standing near the edge, arms crossed over the railing and looking out at the city.

"Hey," Kankuro greeted casually.

"Hn," Sasuke grunted back.

Kankuro handed him a drink and just stood there, taking his time finishing his own as Sasuke frowned up at the sky. When he was done, he set it down and crossed his arms on the railing next to his friend.

"So our siblings are pretty stupid, huh?"

Sasuke closed his eyes and scowled.

"Gotta hand it to him, though. Your brother has balls of brass."

"My brother is confused."

"He confessed to Temari, of all people. Flat out to her face. Who the hell does that?"

"Like I said, he's unwell."

"Hey, don't get me wrong," Kankuro drawled. "Not like I've got my panties in a twist over it. I just noticed Temari being all tense and jumpy at dinner. No one's ever spooked her like that, you know."

"So?" Sasuke said irritably.

"So I'm saying go cheer him up, you jackass. He might still have a chance."

He shook his head. "It's over. Itachi is fatalistic like that."

Kankuro winced. "Poor bastard. He must be pretty torn up about it."

Sasuke deflated, leaning over the railing next to the older boy. "It's pathetic."

"Don't say that. You don't know what it's like."

Sasuke snorted . "And you do?"

"Nah," he admitted, stretching languorously. "But I've seen enough to know when it's real. Like real, real. And when that goes wrong, it can ruin a man."

Sasuke was silent for a moment. "You think it's like that?"

Kankuro scratched his head. "Well, maybe. Temari's all right and all, but she's no delicate flower. And she hits like a man."

Sasuke narrowed his eyes, tilting his head back to search the night sky. After a while, he gave up and merely shook his head. "I don't understand him."

"Yeah," Kankuro conceded. "Your brother's nuts."

The last day came in like all the rest, splaying the same shaft of sunlight across his neck and shoulders. He woke to the familiar warmth, knowing without having to look it was a little past seven.

And because it was the last day, he wanted to run the routine one final time as if it wasn't so, because doing that made this day no different from any other. He washed and made breakfast, thinking of nothing but the next task that lay ahead.

There was still a little left to pack. He brought the bags into the living room, taking his time folding their items as Sasuke went in and out gathering the last of their things. When the apartment was stripped of their belongings, Sasuke stood beside him and helped pack the last of it.

He'd gone over this scenario the night before. The morning had elapsed as he'd anticipated, and as noon and their departure time crept to a close, he watched in expectation as Sasuke's shoulders tensed and the packing slowed to a standstill. Then Sasuke dropped what he was holding and turned towards him.

Here it comes.

"Itachi, if you're doing this for me—"

"If I am," he interrupted, "are you going to stop me?"

Sasuke stopped, subdued.

"We are recovering from war," Itachi continued. "It would be selfish to let something like this impede the recovery of Suna and Konoha. I will do what's right for both you and my village. That is my duty as a shinobi and an older brother."

There was a brief silence as Sasuke slowly went back to packing.

"Technically," Sasuke said a few seconds later, "you're not a shinobi anymore."

Itachi paused, turning his head to look at him with an unreadable expression. Sasuke returned his gaze, unwavering.

"That may be true," Itachi said finally. "But I am still your brother."

"And you've done more than enough for me," Sasuke said under his breath.

Itachi fell silent.

The implication of the words only sank in after he'd said them. Sasuke's fists loosened, eyes widening as Itachi lowered his head and turned away. He silently went back to packing.

Sasuke instantly felt like an asshole.

It was no secret his brother wanted nothing more in life than to ensure his happiness. As much as Sasuke hated to admit it, he knew it was all Itachi was living for. Cursing himself, Sasuke ventured over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I didn't mean it like that."

Itachi dropped his last shirt into the bag and stood there, saying nothing.

"I just—" Sasuke paused, tightening his grip before mumbling the rest. "I just want you to be happy."

Itachi turned to look at him.

If he'd wanted, he could have lied and assured him that he was happy. He could have pretended the words didn't fill him with misery and helplessness and a feeble sort of contentment he felt he didn't deserve. But he would not lie to Sasuke.

Instead, he reached out and pulled him into a hug.

Sasuke stiffened at first. Then he gradually relaxed and brought his hand up to rest against his brother's back. Itachi let him go after a little while, smiling faintly at the embarrassed look on Sasuke's face. Silently, Sasuke moved over to his side and helped him put away the rest.

"She's a powerful kunoichi," he admitted after a while. "And she's well-proportioned."

Itachi looked at him blankly.

"She would bear strong children," he pointed out.

Itachi reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sasuke..."

"She would be an idiot to say no."

He shook his head, trying to stem his amusement. "Sasuke, stop it. I have you. That's enough."

Sasuke opened his mouth to argue, but Itachi shook his head again. "When you marry and have children, they will be my family, too. That will be enough for me."

"You sound like an old man."

Itachi smiled at his brother's tone, partly out of amusement but mostly out of relief. The fight had gone out of Sasuke. Though he was liable to mutter sullenly later on, Itachi knew he would not try arguing with him again.

"I'm going to go return the key," Sasuke said after zipping the last bag closed.

"We'll leave in fifteen minutes, then."

Sasuke nodded and left the apartment, leaving Itachi to move the bags over by the door. They were leaving with more than they'd arrived with, and it took him a few minutes to clear the living room. Itachi reached for the last bag on the coffee table, stopping short when he noticed the spare key underneath.

Dropping the luggage to the floor, he quickly strode to the foyer to catch up to Sasuke. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open. Then he stopped dead.

Temari was standing on the other side of it, hand raised to knock. She froze at the suddenness of his appearance, mirroring his expression of blank shock. Then she quickly got a hold of herself and lowered her hand. There was a wrapped package in the crook of her arm.

"Hey," she said, sounding sheepish. "Seems like I just caught you."

"No," he said automatically, "I was waiting for Sasuke."

"Oh," she said. "I see."

At the other end of the hall, Sasuke came to the top of the stairwell, noticed what lay ahead of him, and promptly turned back around.

There was a prolonged moment of silence. Neither of them actively sought to break it, settling for staring at the wall and floor, respectively. Itachi briefly considered inviting her inside because it seemed rude talking to her in the hallway, but then decided that was a bad idea.

So he remained silent, waiting patiently as though the sight of her wasn't pulverizing his emotional well-being into mush. He hoped she would speak soon before his torment could channel itself into a physical outlet. It would be a hell of a time to start coughing up blood.

"Here."

He raised his head when she reached forward and offered him the wrapped package. He took it, hearing the rustle of leaves.

"I just came by to give you this," she said, braving her discomfort and looking him straight on. "As a way of saying thanks for all your help."

He retreated inside long enough to place the plant on the foyer table before turning to her again. "You didn't have to."

"I know," she said, loosely crossing her arms. "I just thought I should." She paused before smiling slightly. "You've got a bit of a green thumb, yourself."

He'd been avoiding looking directly at her face, but the words were so reminiscent of the time they'd spent together that his gaze went there of its own volition.

"I had a good teacher," he said.

There was a brief silence. She just stood there, trying to smile and not quite managing it. He didn't look away this time, wanting to memorize her face because he would probably not see it again. After a few seconds, she extended her hand.

"I guess this is it, then."

He stared at it before slowly forcing himself to take it. Her grip was strong and warm, and at the risk of letting go too quickly, he held on.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything."

She gave a faint smile back. "Travel safe, Uchiha."

Her hand slipped out of his. Then she turned around and started back down the hall. He watched her go, remaining by the door until she disappeared around the corner. When the footsteps faded, he drew back into the apartment and closed the door.

He meandered around a bit, double-checking the bags and giving a final once-over to the apartment. After a while, he found himself back on the living room sofa, waiting for Sasuke.

As far as goodbyes went, he thought it had gone quite well. Quick. Clean. Like cutting the head off a chicken.

A peculiar ache started in his throat and a wry smile spread over his face. He didn't know why it made him want to laugh.

Sasuke returned ten minutes later, stopping just past the doorway when he caught sight of his brother sitting at the edge of the sofa, holding an unfamiliar package in his hands.

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Itachi rose to his feet and met him at the door.

"Let's go, Sasuke."

Most of the afternoon slipped away indoors, passing with the slow turn of shadows over the office as Temari finished up her remaining paperwork. She worked until there was nothing left and decided to leave the office early.

Neither Gaara nor Kankuro would be home until later, and she did not feel like being alone.

It was a familiar and comforting transition, leaving the formal atmosphere of work behind and emerging to the sight of children running and laughing in the playground. School was already over for the day. She paused near the fence and watched them, breaking into a smile when she noticed them forming seals and miming fire jutsu at each other.

She rapped her fan against the fence. "Hey, fingers straight with that seal! You don't want it to blow up in your face, do you?"

"Temari-sama!" they cried ecstatically, immediately swamping her. She laughed and waded her way through them, pausing here and there to ruffle a head. Between the hugs and questions and pleas for more lessons, a few of them broke loose and looked expectantly behind her.

"Hey, where's Uchiha-sensei?"

Temari had been expecting the question, but hearing it spoken aloud left a strange hollowness in her stomach. She managed a rueful smile. "Sorry, guys. He had to go home."

They groaned, disheartened, but she was spared the need to explain further when Taro came to investigate the ruckus and broke into a smile at the sight of her.

"Temari-sama! What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello, Taro," Temari greeted, relieved to see her. "I just came by to see how everyone was doing."

"Well," Taro said, prying one of the kids off the top of the fence, "we're as lively as ever, as you can see. Would you like to come in?"

Temari nodded, pausing long enough to draw out her fan and toss off a mini tornado for the kids to chase. As they raced after it, shrieking in excitement and laughter, she slipped away and followed Taro into the school.

Leaving the sunlight and laughter behind for the silent classroom did not have the effect she'd been hoping for. The uneasy feeling in her gut intensified in the absence of distraction, and her fingers curled at her side in an effort to keep from grimacing. It felt like a stomach-ache, only deeper and subtler.

As Taro went to prepare tea in the adjoining room, Temari wandered over to one of the corkboards holding the children's artwork. In the centre was a framed class photo, and Temari recognized it as the one they'd taken a couple months ago.

Twenty-five beaming faces stared up at the camera, bunched close around the two figures in the centre. She took in her own smiling features, feeling one tug at her lips in memory. Then her eyes slid over to the person next to her.

Itachi was smiling, too, in his barely-there sort of way. The picture only revealed his profile, though, because he hadn't been looking at the camera. He'd been looking at her.

Temari felt her smile fade. She turned away from the picture and took a seat in the window nook.

She knew where the feeling in her stomach was coming from, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why.

He had been her friend. Perhaps the first real one she'd ever had. It had taken her weeks to get used to the concept—to lower her guard and tell him things she'd only ever dwelt on in her own mind.

And what surprised her was how easy it had been, how comfortable she had felt, in a way she'd only ever felt around her brothers. And maybe, because of that comfort and familiarity, she hadn't noticed if there'd been something more.

And if I had, it would have been a miracle, she thought disparagingly.

What his friendship meant to her hadn't become apparent until she'd passed his empty apartment on the way to the school. It was the knowledge that she couldn't just walk down the street to see him anymore that brought it home, and she was angry with herself for realising it only now.

She looked out the window, feeling unsettled by the sight of the children because he wasn't there beside them, because she'd grown so used to catching his eye and mouthing "you okay?" with the expectation of seeing him smile reassuringly in return.

Frustrated, Temari ran a hand through her hair and leaned back against the window. She was as practical and shrewd a person as they came. Staying in a state of uncertainty like this was maddening, especially when she couldn't figure out what she was uncertain about in the first place.

She knew she would miss him. She had a feeling she was already starting to. But there hadn't been fireworks. There hadn't been the sleepless nights or hours spent daydreaming. No blushing or stammering or butterflies in the stomach. None of the things she'd read and heard so much about.

Did there have to be? She wondered.

She was brought out of her reverie by the clink of ceramic and looked up to see Taro offering her a cup of tea.

Nodding her thanks, she accepted it and held it in her lap as Taro took a seat beside her.

They watched the children in silence for a while before Taro spoke. "Are you all right, Temari-sama? You seem distracted."

Temari opened her mouth to tell her she was fine, then caught herself when she realised she'd be lying. Subconsciously, her thoughts drifted back to the night before to what her youngest brother had said to her.

Ironically, since becoming Kazekage at least, Gaara had rarely if ever exerted control over his siblings. He was even less likely to give them advice, as he had precious little to draw from in experience. But last night had prompted him to do so, and Temari found herself at an impasse as she looked at the kindly face in front of her. It had been difficult enough to confide in her brothers, but Taro was a good person—one with sense when she thought back to what the woman had said in the greenhouse.

That makes one of us, at least.

Temari took a deep breath. "Taro, do I have your discretion?"

Taro rested her hand over her heart. "Absolutely."

Temari stared at the floor intently. Then she raised her head, her eyes settling on the class picture nearby.

"You were right about him," she said.

Taro was silent at first, uncomprehending, but then she followed Temari's gaze and understanding slowly dawned on her.

"Oh," she said, voice softening. "I see."

"I didn't know," Temari said uncomfortably. "Even after you told me, I didn't take it seriously."

Taro was quiet for a moment. "Am I right to assume it was unreciprocated?"

"Yes," Temari said, her fingers curling at the ache in her stomach. "I think so."

Taro looked at her. "You think so?"

"I…" Temari hesitated, then stopped altogether. To her alarm, she found herself feeling somewhat ill. Thinking about him in that light, knowing his background and history—it freaked her out, to be honest. And forcing herself to find an answer like this was making it worse. Her mind was scattered, offering pangs but little in insight as she tried to elucidate what she meant.

She realised the struggle must have been showing on her face because Taro spoke again. "Will you ever go to Konoha again?"

"Yes," Temari said, the thought inducing a wave of anxiety. "Probably."

"Then it's not forever," Taro reminded her gently. "You don't have to fret over it now."

That much was true. But, being tormented like this—she winced—how he must have felt the whole time, smiling in that cryptic sort of way while she went on obliviously without even considering looking at him the same way. It had only been two days and she was at her wit's end. How he'd coped with this for months was beyond her.

She felt the ache deepen and clenched her fingers into fists.

"I don't know," she finally managed to say. "I don't know how I feel. Is it right to say that?"

"Of course it is," Taro said. "Waiting for the answer to come to you isn't easy, but it's infinitely better than trying to go back and wish you'd thought things through."

At Temari's silence, Taro set her tea on the windowsill and turned to face her properly. When Temari reluctantly looked up, she found only compassion on the older woman's face.

"For some people," she said, "it happens suddenly, and they fall hard and fast. For others, it happens slowly. Sometimes without them even realising it. And even though it's not as exciting, sometimes that's the best way, because it gives you time to think.

"So whatever your answer, Temari-sama, I advise you not to give it until you've had time to stop, slow down, and think."

Temari was silent for several seconds, looking at her. Then she managed a small, lopsided smile. "There's no easy way out of this, is there?"

"I'm afraid not," Taro admitted, laughing a little as Temari shook her head. "It will come to you, though. That I promise you."

"Thank you, Taro."

"Of course, Temari-sama. More tea?"

Temari held the cup out in surrender. "Please."

Taro chuckled and gathered their cups, disappearing soon after into the adjoining room. Temari leaned her head back against the window and closed her eyes.

Time to stop. Slow down. And think.

She had a feeling it wasn't going to be pleasant. Or simple or straightforward, for that matter. This was new ground; messy, uncharted, and laced with barbed wire. Despite that, and despite the helpless resentment burgeoning up inside of her, she opened her eyes and looked at the class picture again.

I'm going to miss him, she thought, allowing herself to admit it. I'm going to miss everything.

The assurance and comfort of his presence even when he didn't speak. The sight of him hunkered down amongst the children. The way he caught her glances and knew what she was thinking without having to ask. Even his dumb jokes.

Mostly, she would miss what had been the ease of a mutual loneliness, one they shared from having been at the height of society and its lowest point, one that came from alienation and responsibility; from knowing the guilt, trauma, and joy of family.

Her emotions had been stirred somewhere deeper below the surface. He'd given her the ability to breathe freely; to trust again; to remember simple, basic, contentment. He'd reminded her that she was a person beneath the label of jounin and Kazekage's sister.

Maybe, she thought, if he'd stayed longer or I'd had more time, I would have had my answer sooner.

The thought only filled her with regret, and she found her hand moving to the place that hurt in her stomach.

Taro was right. This wasn't easy. It hurt. A lot. And it would continue to until she'd come to terms with how she felt about this. Until then, she would have to do as Taro said and make time to think.

Temari stared hard at the picture, wanting to glare but faltering midway. Wearily, she closed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the window.

Time was what she'd needed, and time was all she had left now.

The trip back took four days, a full twenty-four hours longer than it normally would have due to Sasuke's insistence that they take breaks. Itachi didn't think it was necessary, but he obliged him if only to put his brother at ease as they left Suna behind them.

In hindsight, he felt he hadn't acted any differently than usual, despite what Sasuke's frequent side-glances suggested. He'd been quiet, yes. But he'd felt fine. He'd spoken when it was appropriate. He'd teased Sasuke for being a worrywart. And he'd purposefully walked, without a backwards glance, away from the only other person he cared about.

He supposed the trip had been made bearable with the prospect of seeing trees again after the endless expanse of desert, and he'd felt something lighten in his chest at the sight of Konoha colouring the horizon.

They'd arrived at sunset, taking the winding back roads home.

The house was just as they'd left it, coated in a thin layer of dust. Sasuke checked the fridge and announced he would do their grocery shopping in the morning. Itachi put their belongings away and unpacked, slowly feeling himself settle into old patterns again. Except there was one thing he had remaining, and he set it carefully on the kitchen table with the intention of opening it in the morning.

Sleep came easily, dreamless and heavy after the journey home. He took advantage of it, sleeping in till later the next day, and rising only after he was certain that Sasuke had left.

He dressed and made his way downstairs, planning to make good on his routine despite the anticipation building inside of him. So without rush, he ate breakfast and did the dishes, then had the tea Sasuke had set out for him, all while sitting at the table where he'd placed the wrapped package.

After he'd finished, he went to wash the cup and placed it in the dish rack before returning to the kitchen table. For a long moment, he didn't move and just sat looking at the package.

In truth, it was the only thing that had kept him from dwelling on what he'd left behind. It was a little thing; only a fragment of that life; but it was from her, and that was all that mattered.

Slowly, he reached out and carefully removed the wrapping, already knowing what it was. Small, green leaves rustled in the silence as he pulled the last of the wrapping away. It was a plant he hadn't seen before, and beneath the pot was a sealed box. As he moved to detach it, a flash of white caught his eye. There was a small index card nestled amongst the stems.

He gently withdrew it and raised it to read.

Itachi,

This plant is native to Suna. When it becomes mature in another four to six weeks, it'll produce a gel that serves as a good remedy for cough and chest congestion. You didn't like my ginger lemon tea (neither did I, to be honest) so I thought this would be a good substitute. You can take it orally or apply it topically when needed, whichever you prefer. I've included a few seeds that I think would be compatible with Konoha's climate, so you can try your luck and see if you can get them to grow. You were always a quick learner. I'm sure you'll be fine.

Good luck.

- Temari

He read the card over again several times, searching the ink flows and indentations for the things she hadn't said. After a while, he turned his attention to the box and removed the tape sealing it. Inside were a series of plastic containers, each containing different seeds marked with a handwritten label. He looked through each one, pausing on a particular set of green seeds. Finding them familiar, he turned the container over to read the label. It was Jewelweed.

With slow, measured movements, he placed the containers back in the box and tucked the index card into his pocket. The tape and wrapping lay crumpled on the table, waiting to be thrown out.

The anticipation was gone. The moment was done, and now there was nothing left to do but resume his old life of clockwork.

Sleeping. Waking. Eating. Working. Rinse and repeat.

He sat there a few minutes longer. Then he abruptly stood up and grabbed the box off the table. The wrapping fell to the floor, going ignored as he strode to the back of the house and opened the door.

The sun was bright and hot when he emerged into the yard, baking the earth beneath his feet as he crossed the stone path towards the shed. The door's hinges had rusted from age and rain and squeaked in protest when he pulled it open.

He entered and retrieved a spade and shovel, taking a moment to shake off the dust and cobwebs. Then he went back outside, walking until he slowed to a stop in the middle of the old vegetable garden.

In the patches of cracked earth, the grass brushed his shins, choked out in places where the soil had eroded and the weeds had grown in.

He knelt and began to dig.