When Sakura went home this evening her headaches were long forgotten, and so were all worries about what to say, when Kiba inevitably would want to know where she went last night.
The one thing occupying her mind was the girl in the photos, who she was, and why the bare sight of her had unsettled Kakashi so much. Of course her first action was to ask, but this approach showed little success. The moment Sakura had drawn Kakashi's attention back to her, a switch flipped, and he returned to his well composed, slightly indifferent self.
"No", he replied when Sakura asked him if he knew the girl. She simply reminded him of someone, he told her and then quickly turned to the stack client's requests. Any further enquiry he ignored, acted as if the girl's file did not at all exist.
It was not until they packed up to go home, that he told Sakura to look over the girl's interrogation, making it very clear that he would not have anything to do with it.

Whoever the girl reminded him of, whoever she was, she had to be pretty important, Sakura thought, and somehow this struck her as surprising. She knew that Kakashi, in his own detached sort of way, cared deeply about the people around him, still he never gave the impression that anyone was actually important to him.
After the war had ended they had had to count the casualties. They sat with long lists of names, on which – who ever was missing or reported dead by his comrades – would simply get corssed out. It took less than an hour before Sakura broke down, and she wasn't the only one – not among the younger ones anyway, but even those who were old enough to have known war before had a hard time keeping their countenance. Kakashi on the other hand wrote down the deaths of his comrades, as emotionless as if he was putting down his shopping list.
Sakura knew that this was just another mask he was wearing, but she had not expected to ever see this immaterial mask crack, if only for a few seconds. It had stayed in place perfectly, even as the last search-party returned with no remains of Naruto and Sasuke, except for the latter's sheath, stayed in place when both of them were finally and officially declared dead.

It was with these thoughts that Sakura took the stairs up to her appartment, too immersed in them to notice the figure leaning in her doorway. Just when she reached out to unlock the door something took hold of her hand, and she realised Kiba's presence.
"Where were you?", to Sakura's relief he held his voice down, showing lesser of his anger and a little respect for her neighbours.
"At work", she replied evenly, teared her wrist from his grasp and went inside. She was not sure if she wanted him to follow, but before she had a chance to close the door behind her, he was already inside.
"I...", she kicked off her sandals, watched him drop the shoes she had worn yesterday evening.
"I wanted to go for a walk", she said lamely.
"With no shoes?"
"Well, I..."
"You climbed outmy window."
"I didn't want to wake anyone. Also", Sakura added switching from defensive to offensive "you never care to use my door – so why should I bother?"
There was a pause in which Kiba sat down on her sofa. "I was worried sick", he admitted after a while, all anger gone.
"I'm sorry", Sakura sat down on his lap, wrapped her arms around him. No, she decided, after a short moment of doubt, she was glad Kiba was here. With all that was going on, he was the one person she could come home to.
"I didn't mean to have you worried. I just... ended up at my place, ... It's sort of foggy", at least that last bit wasn't a lie.
".. you were pretty drunk."
"Hm", Sakura placed a few light kisses on his neck, his ear, she felt his hands searching their way under her shirt, her skirt, tender and soft, but always keen and bold as they moved.