She set her knife down and wiped the sweat from her brow, careful not to sully herself. She looked to the doctor at her left and grinned. He had grown pale and his blonde hair was flecked with blood. The doctor’s blue eyes were wide with fear. She narrowed her eyes as she drank in his apprehension.

He looked at her and turned away embarrassed. She looked down at the pale flesh on the table. She felt the blood hit her shoes. She would clean them before leaving; she didn’t mind blood at all. Being in the field and caring for the Fuehrer had made her stronger than that. But she felt that such filthy blood should not touch any part of those who had superior liquids coursing through their veins.

But she was a nurse. It was her duty to gain as much knowledge as possible to save the troops of her homeland. This was no different from the animals she had prepared and dissected as a child. It was only a beast of an inferior race. She looked at the bulbous and disproportioned nose. She lifted the knife once more. With or without anesthetic--this beast would feel nothing. She walked around the doctor and with one clean swipe; she lopped off the offending appendage. She smiled sweetly at the young doctor, “It bothered me so; isn’t this much better?”

He nodded wordlessly and she grew more tired and bored of his company. He took no delight or interest in her doings. It must have been her herself. The young Doctor Wolfgang watched the other nurses do the same things without either a flinch or wince. She grabbed her apron, stained and caked auburn, and wiped the oversized knife, her prized possession, of the filthy blood.

“You are quite skilled,” commented the doctor, “with such a large knife, and such precision, I’m impressed.” He said this with actual sincerity and a twang of fear. She scoffed inwardly at his weakness. “I do what I can to make this easier,” she said sweetly, “please, take some rest; we have been with this patient for days straight. He’s done now.” The doctor nodded and walked out of the room. She looked at the white corpse and laughed daintily. She walked out of the room and rinsed her hands in the sink. The doctor eyed her and she felt his eyes bear into her like weights.

“Miss Haruno, will you accompany me to dinner tonight?” he asked. She looked at him bemused. He said, with more tact, “I would like to enjoy the pleasure of your company outside of the hospital, and I would like to treat you to a hot meal.” She looked at him again and said quietly, “Ah! But Mister Wolfgang, I cannot, you know that.” He looked to his right and smiled, “Then allow me the pleasure of walking you home.”

She sighed inwardly and consented, “I will make an exception for this one night.” His blue eyes lit up. He brushed back his blonde hair and smiled, “I am most glad, Miss Haruno.” He bowed to her, sloppily she noted, and went out to change. She finished scrubbing the caked blood from her hands and sighed, holding her head in her hands. Her childhood friend, Naruto Uzamaki, had warned her about him. He had told her that he was like a puppy. She grinned again: a squeamish puppy.

She went to the nurse’s locker room and stripped herself of the copper scented garments she wore that left her tasting iron in the back of her throat. She was alone and so used to this cold place. It was like a second home to her. She put the clothes to be washed and dressed in a black dress, cropped fashionably just below the knee, and gently pulled up her lace stockings, relishing the softness against her skin. She slipped into her day shoes and ran her fingers through her short pink hair.

She pulled her black silk headband over her head and it hung listlessly around her neck until she pulled it up over her forehead. She was careful pulling her bangs to the front. She ran her fingers through her hair to finish her grooming. She applied a soft shade of dark pink to her lips and puckered her lips in front of the mirror. She looked lovely.

She grabbed a cloth and ran it under the cool water from the locker restroom and looked at her once shiny shoes. She ran the cloth over them lightly and set them in her locker. She tossed the cloth with the rest of her clothes and slipped into her coat. She held her purse tightly and secured it over her shoulder. She slid her knife into is coarse leather case and set it safely into her locker. She closed the metal door with a soft clink and locked it.
She pushed open the heavy locker-room doors to see the doctor waiting for her. He extended his elbow, which she accepted unwillingly, and said, “Would like to dine at the restaurant on the corner?” She nodded. It was closer to the hospital. But it was too far from her home to walk this late at night. Her feet ached and she wondered if the good doctor owned a car.

She pulled her coat tighter as they entered the chilly October air. She shivered involuntarily and refused to be closer to him than she had to be. He led her down the street and opened the door for her. Again, she noted, without grace or control. She entered the room and delighted in the warmth that enveloped her. The métier smiled at her and said to the doctor, “We have a booth open for you, Doctor Wolfgang.”

She looked at the doctor in surprise. He was calm as could be. He was probably a regular, she deduced. The doctor offered his arm to her, and not wanting to be rude, accepted quickly. As they walked she noticed a patch of red hair. It belonged to an SS officer. His hair was long and soft, though it stuck out in languid peaks. The officer looked at her and was impassive. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly. She turned her head away from him. It was rude to stare and he had caught her in the act.

She turned her head to see him again, and now his face was completely impassive. She was seated on the side of the booth that faced him. She could crane her neck anytime to see him if she grew bored of the doctor.

The doctor smiled at her and placed his hand on the table. She was obliged to smile back. “So, Doctor Wolfgang, how has work been for you?” she asked quietly and sweetly. She saw the officer lean outwards of his seat with such grace he could have been made of water.

“It’s been good,” said the doctor. “You’re an excellent nurse. Nothing seems possible without you. You’re so effective and to-the-point; these are excellent qualities in a nurse as well as a woman.” On ‘woman’ she saw a strange glint fill his eyes. She shivered again. She hadn’t taken off her coat, she sought to remedy this. She stood up and took off her coat on her own. She sat down, inwardly abhorred at the doctor’s lack of proper manners.

She watched a waiter come up to the officer. And the officer looked up to the waiter and shook his hand. The officer smiled at the waiter. The waiter took to this kindly and said, in a honeyed voice, “How may I help you, Officer?”

The officer smiled again, “I would like the roast beef sandwich with cheddar.” The officer added in his deep and elegant voice, “and please, take your time, I’m in no hurry at all.” She watched him. The waiter happily served him with a smile of admiration. She saw a brilliant flash of pearl in his mouth, like the glint she adored that winked from the tip of her beloved knife.

His eyes fell on her. She felt enveloped, impervious to the ramblings of the doctor. She felt as if he were stalking her like some elegant jungle cat. She felt the intense fear and euphoria that stemmed from this revelation. She had never felt so thrilled. She was so used to batting around and devouring the critters that so fearfully fell into her lap. But this wasn’t like what she had done with the beasts, this was thrilling for her. She felt the words blossom in her mind, ‘Catch me if you can.’

She felt something flutter and land on her hand. It was the doctor’s hand. She pursed her lips in slight repulsion. She looked back at the officer and saw he was staring out the window at the deserted street outside. She looked back to the doctor and decided it was best not to be rude. She smiled at him, “I’m glad you’re so chipper this evening, it’s ever so interesting.” The doctor smirked, which had been the only interesting thing he had done since she’d known him. He leaned in closer to her and brushed her bangs from her face, “You really are beautiful--much more so than the other nurses.”

She felt her neck begin to recoil, but she willed the muscles to stay. She looked at the doctor. Her eyes, a light shade of clear living oceans, bursted into full bloom. She smiled as prettily as she could. Her eyes held the venom she had coursing in her blood. She let this flow to her face. The officer watched this, captivated. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing he had seen. She was like the carnivorous flowers of the jungle: delicate, beautiful, tantalizing to smell and touch, but lethal.

The doctor did not take this gracious warning. The waiter, having just set down an aromatic and rich coffee before the entranced officer, came and smiled at the doctor. The doctor ordered a bottle of wine for the two of them. He still held her chin. She wrenched herself from him and turned to the waiter, “I’m so cold. May I please have some coffee?”

The waiter, smiling, obliged her innocent request. He walked away, leaving her alone with the doctor. She looked at the officer again. He was sipping at his coffee, the steam making his façade exotic and ghostly. She saw his eyes narrow in observation. He looked like a jungle cat on the prowl. He turned to the window again and she saw the elegance and broadness of his shoulders and chest. The collar sheltered his muscular and elongated neck. She saw each muscle work in perfect harmony as he drank.

The doctor called her name. There were menus. She could choose what she wanted. She looked at them. She hoped for a good, hot meal. She hoped it would compensate for having to spend so much time with such a boring and rude man. The doctor swallowed. She watched the muscles of his neck take down the air he took in. It lacked the beauty of the officer’s.

The doctor seemed closer to her. She pulled up the menu to shield herself from him. She wanted to leave. His prior display had unnerved her. She wanted to go home. It was a small apartment, but it was hers. She knew she would be safe there. She inspected the sandwiches and heard the officer’s orchestra of vocal cords emit a respectful ‘thank you’. The waiter chattered about what a cold night it was. The officer agreed and added that he liked the cold, it was fresh and the scents of autumn were crisp because of it. The officer chuckled and added that everything was more inviting this time of year.

The chuckle of the officer was a mellifluous song. She wanted to see the face he made when he laughed so joyously. Did he keep his predatorial beauty when he laughed? Did he grin like a cat that had napped its mouse at last? Or was his smile like the snarl of a dog?

Still, she was afraid, for what reason she wondered, that the doctor would see her. She would have to put down the menu. The officer was quiet again. There was no doubt that he had his hot roast beef sandwich with cheddar. That sounded the most appetizing to her at the moment. But she needed something that would hold her over after the lack of sustenance over the past few days. She saw ‘pot pie’. She read the words and silently remembered how she had loved them as a child.

She decided, that as nice as roast beef was, that she would pick the pot pies of her youth. She lowered her menu and felt the eyes of the doctor bearing into her once more. She winced inwardly. The waiter was at her side. He asked her what she would like. She told him the pot pie would be lovely. The waiter asked her if she would enjoy the corn chowder or the chicken soup. She opted for the chowder. The doctor asked for corned beef and hash. The waiter thanked them and walked past the officer.

Sakura entertained the doctor’s dull conversation. He was buying her dinner at a nice restaurant, it was the least she could do for him. She recoiled politely from his touches and busied herself fixing her hair and fingering the pearl buttons of her dress.

The food came and the doctor kept up his one-sided dialogue. She tossed her most polite replies at the right moments into it and passed herself off as imbued in and mindful of the dull conversation. Sakura ate her pie slowly. She watched the movements of the officer. He was reserved and polite. He had an air of authority and approachability at the same time.

The officer ate slowly too. He chewed slowly. She was glad he was tall. She could see him past the doctor and still appear as if she were listening. The doctor seemed to drone on and she had to force herself to look like she cared. She felt obliged enough to give him at least that. The doctor’s eyes shifted to a darker shade of blue as he glanced at her. Sakura inwardly shuddered. She did not like this at all. Not one bit.

She silently hoped the officer would step in and intervene but he sat and ate his sandwich. Sakura had finished her pie. She sipped the last of her coffee and accepted some of the wine the doctor offered her. She swirled it in a wine cup he handed to her. She inhaled its sweet scent and marveled at its brilliant red. She sipped it and set it down. She folded her hands and leaned her chin on them. The doctor poured her more wine.

She accepted it so that she could temper the pain of dealing with the doctor for a while more. She put it down before drinking more. Sakura caught the waiter’s attention and asked for more coffee. The waiter came back with a coffee pot. The waiter poured more into her cup and into the officer’s as he made his way back to the bus station. She looked at the officer as she sipped her coffee. He took his without cream or sugar. She sipped at her untempered drink and smiled.

They had something in common. The officer popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth. The doctor had already finished his hash and corned beef. The waiter came to their booth and asked them if they would like dessert. Sakura politely declined and said she must hurry home or her legs would fall under her. The waiter smiled and looked at the doctor. The doctor asked for the check. The waiter stopped at the officer and asked him if he needed anything else. The officer laughed heartily that this was the best meal he had had in days. The waiter followed suit and finally said, “I’ll be back with your check as well.”  

Sakura felt the doctor put his hand on hers. She tried to recoil but he held her. She wriggled her hand but he kept it pinned. She looked at him, actually afraid. His face was stern and crazed like a crocodile’s. He curled up his lips like a grotesque lizard. And said, “Just kidding.” He let go and laughed. She felt her face grow hot and she stood to leave.

The doctor stood up. He smiled at her, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to see what would happen. Please, excuse my behavior.” She glared at him at the corners of her eyes. She was feet from the officer but the doctor had finally captured her full attention.

He was sincere. Or at least, he seemed sincere. Sakura smiled at him, “I’ll forgive this, but don’t dare to do something like that again, Doctor Wolfgang.” The doctor nodded, “Let me pay this, and then I’ll escort you home.” She thanked him as he took out a very large bill and set it on the table for the waiter. He took out a pen and scribbled something on one of the unsoiled napkins. He turned back to her with a saccharine smile.

She smiled back and allowed him to take her arm. She cast one last glance at the officer’s booth. He wasn’t there but a bill that covered more than double of the cost of the sandwich and coffee was left behind. It was a very generous tip. So was the doctor’s.

The doctor led her out the door and into the cold crisp air. She pulled her jacket to her body. The doctor began to talk to her about how he had worked in Berlin, but hoe impressed he was and honored to be working with a nurse who had been the personal caretaker of the country’s beloved Fuehrer. She blushed and said it was nothing.

She began to tell the doctor of her trips around the world with him. She began to tell him about their trip to the islands. She was telling him about how clean and fresh the water was. She smiled and felt her nose and skin grow numb.

She sneezed and noticed that they were going down a dark and litter-streaked alley. She looked around and saw that they were at an impasse. She began to panic when she felt the doctor’s hands on her waist. She yelped and flung her arms but missed him. She wrenched her body and convulsed to set herself free. She was no match for the doctor’s superior strength. She felt the ground hit her body. She felt the back of her head hit the pavement with such force she cried out in pain.

Sakura felt the doctor immobilize her legs. She felt his blonde hair on her cheek and his hand slipped up her thighs. She felt him grab her roughly and squeezed. She cried and screamed. He pulled down her silk stockings and ripped the hooks from her garters. She felt his fingers slip into her panties and his hot breath on her neck. He had her pinned at the shoulder with his big, muscled hand. She screamed but heard no one come to her rescue. He sat up, his loins on hers, and wrenched open her dress, sending all of her buttons flying and clacking off in the distance.

She covered herself and looked up at him. She begged him to stop. She wouldn’t tell. He could keep his job. He could keep everything he had if he just left her alone. He grinned, “But that’s no fun.”

“But what is fun, Herr Wolfgang?” she heard a calm voice say. She couldn’t see past the doctor. The voice sounded familiar. The doctor laughed, “But officer, I’ll let you have the first crack at her.” The man laughed in the same melody as the officer had. “Of course,” said the voice, “she is beautiful.” The doctor got off of her and she covered her nude breasts. She scampered backwards and saw a brilliant flash of red hair. It was the officer from the booth. He was wearing a dark jacket now that he was outside. She registered what the officer had said.

She looked at him. He walked over to her. He was so much like a panther. She began to cry more. The officer bent down next to her and looked at her as if he were inspecting a piece of meat. She closed her eyes and felt the tips of his fingers ghost across her cheek.

He said to the officer, “Come here, Herr Wolfgang, I hear you’ve done this plenty of times before. Tell me about her.” The doctor laughed, “She’s a nurse and one of the best in her field.” The officer waited until the doctor was at his side. “Herr Wolfgang, how often have you done this?” said the officer again. The doctor admitted he had lost count. She opened her eyes. The officer had reached into his back pocket and set something down.

“Herr Wolfgang, you know, she really is the most beautiful one yet.” Sakura cried. She was doomed either way now. The officer had seemed like such a gentleman. She turned her chin down. She felt the firm hands of the officer on her face again.

She felt him stand up and she heard his shoes grind the pavement. He was now talking in the direction of the doctor. “Herr Wolfgang, do you have anything to else to say?”

The doctor laughed. He didn’t. “But have your way with her now. That’s a virgin you’ve got there. So be careful not to hurt her too much before I get my hands on her.”

The officer said, “Are you sure you don’t want to find someone else?” The doctor said that she was the best. She was a real fighter, and he liked that. The officer answered, “Herr Wolfgang, don’t worry, I won’t hurt her,” there was a dark change in the officer’s tone, “and neither will you.”

Their shoes scuffled against the pavement. She heard the air shatter and she covered her ears. She looked up. The officer was holding his shoulder and wincing. The doctor’s arm stood in the air as if in salute. His fingers were wrapped around a tiny pistol. The officer now raised his arm. She closed her eyes. A second boom shattered the air. She felt a warm spray hit her face. She looked up to see what had happened.

The doctor’s blonde hair was matted with blood. Or rather, what was left of it. His face wasn’t there anymore either. Just a bloody, mushy pulp. She looked up at the officer for an explanation. He stared at the doctor’s corpse and turned to her. He walked over slowly and she obeyed the instinct to cover her breasts and tighten her legs to protect herself. The officer’s fingers were on her cheek again. She felt them slide off and she remembered what he had just said he wasn’t going to hurt her.

Although she still covered herself, she relaxed and she stared at him. There was no indication in his posture that he was hurt. The scent of blood was too thick in the air for her to find the origin. She scrutinized him but couldn’t see well enough in the dark. She heard him speak, “I’m sorry you had to see that.” She shrugged her shoulders, “I see blood all the time, Officer.” He nodded. He parted his lips again, “I’ve never met him before tonight. I’ve been on his trail for a while now. What he does recently came to my attention. I’m sorry. Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, “Not badly. I’m a nurse. I can take care of it myself.” He nodded, “Please, put your coat back on, I won’t look. I’m sorry I scared you. I needed a confession. No one will miss him.” She pulled her coat around her body and tried to stand up. Her legs were tired and she could barely move. She was off the ground and suddenly tipped to the side. The officer caught her.

The officer was grateful that this place was dark. He felt a soft heat rise to his cheeks. She really was a beautiful woman. He helped right her. She swayed. He helped her hobble over to lean on one of the grimy walls of the alleyway. He took out his radio and told them what happened. He left out that the doctor had shot him and instead told the operator that the doctor had threatened to kill him and the girl and had fired at him. He said he had fired in defense.

The operator understood as said in a gravely voice that it was alright. That man was a monster and unworthy to be called a German. The operator apologized to him for making such a high-ranked officer do such a menial task. He told them it was alright. He didn’t mind. The most important thing was that this was over and it wouldn’t happen again. The operator thanked him. He told the operator he would take the girl where ever she wanted to go from here.

He looked at the girl. She was pale and she was strewn across the wall as if it were the only thing keeping her up. He felt his shoulder burn more and more as the adrenaline left his body. The officer walked over to her and hooked her arm around his waist. She clung to him like a lost child. He pulled her close to him and kept her up with his good arm. He winced and looked at her. Her eyes were a soft sea green. He asked her, “Do you want me to take you home?”

She shook her head. “I’m too tired. I couldn’t make it.” She leaned her head into his chest, “Can you take me back to the hospital?” He asked her if she was sure. She would need new clothes. She told him in a drained voice, “I have an extra outfit there.” He obliged her. They walked the couple of blocks back with their bodies linked and clinging to each other for support.

He took her to the lobby. It was empty except for a sleeping receptionist with long blonde hair. She had her head in her folded arms. They passed her. Sakura lead the way to the women’s locker room. She smiled at him and thanked him. She said she wanted a shower. He rested his hand on her cheek again. She was covered in grime. “I’ll have your clothes washed and dry-cleaned if you want me too. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” The officer wanted to hear her reply.

She shook her head, “I’m just going to throw these away.” She smiled at him, “I’ll be alright.” He saw she was scared. The officer asked her again, “Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” She shook her head and smiled, cheery as could be, “I’m alright, go home, Officer, I’ll be okay.” He nodded. He turned around and glanced over her shoulder to see her go into the locker room. The heavy doors thumped against each other. He put his hand to his shoulder and winced.

He brought his hand to his face. The blood was thick and warm. He grimaced and licked the blood from his hand. He walked over to the doors and opened them a crack. He didn’t here her crying, so he decided to walk home and clean himself up. He winced with each step. He took a deep breath. It would be quite a ways home.

Sakura had spent the night in the nurses’ station on the old green couch. She pulled the blanket over her and yawned. The last night had been hard. She wondered were the doctor had gone. He had been shot in the face by the officer. She thought about the officer again. He was a gentleman. He had helped her. He had let her be. She sat up and stretched out. Her new clothes felt clean and crisp against her soap-scented skin.

She stood up and folded the blanket. She draped the fluffy blanket over the couch. She slipped into her shoes.

She was ready to work. The day passed like any other. She said hello. She said goodbye. No one missed the doctor. She was put on an easy day. She sat at one of the desks and wandered around as it pleased her. The officer was on her mind. She was mesmerized by his red hair. His laugh was like a song.

She put her hand on her shoulder. He was hurt. Was he hurt? She wondered. She felt gracious to him. She could have sworn he was holding his shoulder after the doctor’s shot. But when she opened her eyes it was like nothing had happened. No man could be tough enough to stand up after a gun shot like that. Let alone walk her to the hospital and then go wherever he needed to after. She sighed. She hadn’t even asked his name.

She sighed and turned her head to look at the ceiling. It had been a long day. She had floated along like a jellyfish on the ripples. She felt a firm hand on her shoulder. Her body shivered all over. Her mind flashed back to the doctor, but he was dead. So it must have been--

Sakura leapt around to see the officer with red hair. He had drawn back slightly. His hand hovered uncomfortably over her shoulder. He had a look of bewilderment on his face, “Miss, I’m afraid I startled you,” he apologized in a mellifluous voice like the bass of an orchestra. It reverberated in her ears. The young officer stepped back three paces, graceful as a dancer, and bowed at the waist before her, “I hate to impose, but I am in need of a nurse.”

She looked at him. There was a note urgency in his voice. Along with the deep timber of his voice was a slight twang. She looked at him carefully. He was perfectly composed, though his shoulder shivered slightly. “May I ask your name, Sir Officer?” He slowly came up, losing some of his finesse as his shoulder quaked slightly. His eyes flashed with pain. “I do not mean to besmirch the reputation of a lady, but I need you to come to my rooms, I cannot let anyone know.” He said this with reserved haste. He had righted himself into perfect stance, but his eyes, dark and ringed, were furrowed in pain. His eyes, she noticed, were the color of the ocean she had flown over once with the Fuehrer. They were clear and tempered but there was wear in them.

She nodded, “I will go with you, Sir, if you tell me your name; I try to know my patients before I treat them.” He began to bow again but halted, pain contorting his handsome features, he opted to bow his head a slight degree. “My name is Gaara Sabaku, please, excuse my rudeness.”

She took his shoulder gently and watched him wince. She withdrew quickly and admired his strength. His shoulder was tender and was swollen. His dark trench coat disguised it well. He asked her, “May I ask your name?” She looked at him, “Sakura, Sakura Haruno.” He nodded and extended his left elbow, to her. She looked at him, and not wanting to appear rude or to show his infirmity to the surrounding officers and nurses, took it. Although he was taller, she made the effort to let him rest the weight of his arm on her. He refused at first, but slowly, his arm relaxed into hers. He led her, in his speedy, yet smooth gate, into the lobby and out into the cold night. She shivered; her nurse’s uniform doing little to protect her from the cold. He drew her closer and pulled his arm away from her.

Gaara slipped out of his coat gingerly and with the greatest grace and caution. He draped the heavy dark trench coat over her shoulders. She pulled it close to her and saw dark flecks on his other wise immaculate uniform. “I’m sorry to take you this far out of your way.”
She smiled at him, “It’s alright, you’ve helped me more than enough, if anything, I’m all too happy to return the favor.” His brow relaxed into a smile. “It was nothing, Miss Haruno.” He said in his soft voice. The deep timber of his voice soothed her nerves. She looked at his painfully swollen shoulder and concealed her gasp.

“He really did hit you, Mister Sabaku!” she said with reserved fear. He shook his head, “Please, call me Gaara, Miss Haruno.” She nodded. “Gaara, how far do you live from here? We should take a taxi if you’re hurt so badly.” He smiled at her. “I’m thankful for your concern, Miss Haruno, but it’s only one more block. I’ll start a fire once we arrive.” She looked at him, “This is a serious wound! You shouldn’t be in the cold, let alone at work.” Gaara winced as he smiled, “You’re right, the cold does make it worse. But I just couldn’t take the day off.” She looked at him. He was a proud and strong man. She admired him even more.

They turned a corner and she took his arm, resting it on her hers. ‘He mustn’t strain himself further,’ she thought, ‘proud or not.’ His arm was lax and she looked at the place they had stopped at. It was a beautiful old home bathed in the golden light of the lampposts. Each detail was superb. He opened the gate with his good arm and led her inside. Still holding his arm, she glanced at the rose garden that surrounded them.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She looked at his face to see pride scrunch up his eyes, “I’m glad you think so,” he said, “I’ve spent so many hours just on the front lawn alone.” She smiled at him. He had such a handsome face when he smiled. He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a key. He popped it into the lock and it opened with a clink. She heard the flick of a switch and it took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the brightness.

The interior was far grander than the façade. The furniture was comforting and inviting and it reminded her of the discarded leaves outside. He led her to the den where a large marble fireplace awaited them. He placed her on the couch and lit the wood already in the fireplace. He placed the iron grate, equally beautiful to the fireplace, over the fire and he stood up. He sat next to her and slumped into the couch. “Forgive my rudeness,” he said, “I just need to rest a moment.” He winced and she noticed that the dark patches on his shirt had grown much bigger.

“I believe it would be better if I check your injury first.” He nodded in agreement. He went to take off his shirt but his arms froze and the pain in his face was unabashed. She looked at him. He was hurt because he had helped her. She took off his coat and laid it on the arm of the couch. She kneeled in front of him and pulled his shirt out of his pants carefully. She undid each button from the bottom and came to the last four. She looked up to see his face. He was flushed. She undid the last of the buttons. “Please, lean forward, Gaara.” He obliged her and she slipped off the shirt to see his bared chest.

He was undoubtedly very handsome and strong. Each muscle was well defined though he wasn’t a very big man at all. She looked at his right shoulder and saw the soaked red bandages he had probably put on himself. Gaara’s body shuddered violently. She put her hand to his cheek, “Please, just wait a moment. Tell me where the kitchen and linen closet are. Wait for me to come back; don’t strain yourself further.” He nodded and winced, “The linen closet is farther down the left hallway, it has brass knobs, and the kitchen is just past that.”

She hurried off. She walked down the long hallway and to the linen closet. She wondered how anyone so young could live so well. She noticed that no one greeted him and he hadn’t called out he was home. Surely his mother would have known her son was hurt. But no one else was here. She looked at the linens, there were two piles. One was worn and simple and the other was opulent and in rich autumn hues. She grabbed the oldest of the linens and went to the kitchen. She grabbed the tea kettle and filled it from the sink and set it on the stove on the highest setting the flame could reach.

She padded back to the living room to see Gaara slumped over. His shoulders were lax and the bleeding looked much worse. She went to him and rested her hand on his cool cheek. His eyes flashed open and widened with surprise. He reared back like a wild stallion and whinnied in agony. She started back in surprise and leaned back in, “I’m sorry,” she hushed, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He looked at her. He regained his composure and smiled weakly. “I’m alright, I was simply surprised.” He flashed a true grin at her and bared his perfectly set white teeth. She marveled at how prominent his canines were. They gave him the look of an elegant predator. They gave him a wildness Sakura found interesting. She grinned.  Gaara’s eyes widened as well as his predatory grin.  

He winced again. She whispered, “Don’t strain yourself.” She leaned him back into the couch and he sighed. He parted his lips to say something but stopped. He exhaled lightly and savored the softness of the couch. Her hand was soft as well. Soft and warm. He felt her place it there again. He closed his eyes and smiled again. He had certainly been lucky. He wanted to keep this a secret. And the only person who had to know he was hurt was the only other person to know about the last night’s escapade.

She took her hand from his face and he ached for that lost contact.
She hadn’t been afraid to see the blood of the doctor she knew ooze from his pulpy face. That in a woman was a most precious asset. He felt her hands on his waist. He felt them center on his belt buckle. He jumped back uncertainly. She looked up at him. “We need for you to bite into this when I remove the bullet. I don’t want you to break your teeth.” She said this with concern as well as a small shyness. He rarely smiled. Or rather, he rarely smiled like average, normal people would. She was adamant. She forcibly, yet meticulously, folded the belt several times and instructed him not to unfold it even once. She showed him how to bite it then she left for the kitchen when he heard his tea kettle boil.  

He watched her scurry off like a little mouse. She was in such a rush. He heard the kettle quiet and then the clink of metal in the kitchen. He figured she needed tools to take out the bullet. And something to clean the wound. He watched her come back in. She had a two large pots, several clean kitchen towels, tongs, and he heard metal clinking against the bottom of the pot.

She kneeled before him. He looked down as much as he could. She had turned one of the pots over and draped a towel over it. She took a second towel and rushed back to the kitchen. He heard a hiss. He kept his eyes closed. The pain made his head foggy. He heard her come back. She said she had sterilized the knives she would need to use, as well as a pair of thin pliers she found in the kitchen.

She grabbed a washcloth she had soaked and set it down. He felt the heat rise from it. She felt the heat of her too as she unwrapped his shoddy patch job. She gasped and asked him how he could even think of working in such a state. He mumbled that he had too. He didn’t have a choice. He told her how important his work was. The Fuehrer was so busy now that Europe was under his heel at last. The Russians had fallen; now was the time to expand. Roads had to be built. Schools erected. Relations to secure. These things had to be done.

She nodded. She said she knew. There were so many men working so hard. She knew. She was busy doing research to protect the people of her beloved country. He nodded. He felt the hot towel on his skin. She cleaned the blood from his shoulder. He caught the stink of it and sighed heavily. It was like a haze of minerals in his face. Gaara felt the cool air hit his shoulder and heard Sakura run off to the kitchen once more.

She came to him and put her hand on his cheek again. He opened his eyes lazily. “Do you have iodine?” was all she asked. His head bobbed. “It’s in the medicine cabinet in the restroom. It’s that way.” She followed the jerk of his head and he heard a knob twist. He barely heard the glass clink before she came back. She now placed a blanket around his back as he slumped forward in her arms. He hated to be weak in the presence of others. But this Sakura Haruno was different.

She placed the belt into his mouth and he bit into it. He braced himself. He grunted as the iodine went into his open wound. It burned but he didn’t cry out. If his eyes had been open, he would have seen Sakura’s admiring face beaming at him.

Sakura looked at the skin and saw that it wasn’t badly damaged. The wound was wide enough for her to use the needle nose pliers without cutting him open. She didn’t want to mar his beautiful skin further. She rubbed more iodine onto her hands and she dipped the pliers into the large bottle. She looked into the wound and saw the bullet’s back. It had stopped before hitting the bones of his arm. The doctor’s gun was a weak model. But this was good for Gaara. This left him with a bullet lodged in muscle that would heal faster than broken bone.

She picked up the pliers and a dry cloth. She saw his jaw clench as she inserted the pliers into the cavern in his shoulder. She kept the cloth just below and out of her way so she could soak up the blood. He didn’t writhe or try to move, he just sat there. She admired him more and more. He was handsome. He was tough. He was gentle. He was polite. He wasn’t afraid of pain. He was strong. Sakura redirected her mind to Gaara’s shoulder. She felt the tips hit the butt of the bullet. She pulled back slightly and opened the pliers. She felt them grab the bullet. She heard a soft grunt as she slowly pulled the bullet out.

He was a very strong man. He hadn’t fainted even though he was in so much pain. Sakura admired that. She had never known anyone who could stomach this much pain without passing out. He stayed still as she pulled the bullet out. He groaned as she exited his body. He opened his eyes wearily and stared at the bullet. She held it up and reassured him, “This was easier than I thought it would be. All I have to do is pour in some iodine and blot it out. Then I can stitch you up. You’re very strong, Gaara.”

His eyes closed in thanks. If he could smile at her, he would have then. It was a painful spot to be in. He was lucky as he could be. He was grateful to her. He winced as he felt the iodine sear into him. She asked him, “Is that better now?”

He nodded. He felt his jaw clenching. He pushed himself into the blanket that lined his back. He smelled blood and iodine. He felt her move the cloth from his skin. It was sticky. She blotted it and replaced it with a dry cloth. “Can you hold this?”

He opened his eyes. He raised his good arm and held the cloth in place as she picked up a needle and thread. She put these on his lap. She then bent down once more into a dark and hazy abyss. She returned with a pair of scissors she left on his thigh. She then put the cloth in his lap and threaded the needle. She cut the tread. All these she doused in iodine. She then smiled at him, “Just a little longer.”

Sakura had never been this kind to a patient. She was usually more removed. She did one stitch and cut the tread. She did another. After the sixteenth stitch she set everything down. She had done these stitches small and close so that it would look like a bad scratch once it was healed. Gaara looked at her, belt still in his mouth, with hooded and tired eyes. She wrapped the blanket around him and cleared the couch of all she had used. She laid him down and placed another towel at the site of the stitch incase it started to bleed again.

Gaara closed his eyes. She took the belt from his mouth and massaged his cheeks and jaw. He murmured something. She looked at him. He was paler and his hair was the color of a desert sunrise. She leaned her head on the couch next to him. She whispered, “Your shoulder is okay now, but you can’t work for at least two weeks. The muscles were damaged and you have to take it easy. I’ll help you with your paperwork and in any way I can.”

He opened his eyes. His voice was husky, “Thank you, Sakura.” She blushed and smiled, “It’s alright Gaara; I have plenty of vacation time I haven’t used yet.” He closed his eyes again, “I’m so tired.”

She laughed, “You were shot.” He chuckled and winced, “I’ve been through worse than this.” He felt her hand on his cheek. She rested her cheek to his and whispered, “I’ll stay here and take care of you, it’s the least I can do.” He murmured, “It was a pleasure. You really are beautiful.” Gaara smiled. She blushed, “No more than any other girl.” He shook his head, “You weren’t even fazed to see the doctor’s brains on the pavement and you didn’t cry, that, in itself, is the most wonderful thing you could ask for in a woman.” Sakura pressed her lips to his cheek. She stroked his hair. He blushed. “You’re wonderful too, Gaara, a true gentleman.”