Title: Silence

By: DarkSeductress/darkemptyheart

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Naruto. They are Kishimoto-sama's wonderful creations, I only play with them.

Summary: The members of Team 7 don't have much use for speaking anymore. Some people understand and other's can't comprehend it.

Genre: Angst, Drama, Dark

Pairing: Naruto/Sakura/Sasuke

Author's Note: No character's name is used on purpose. I felt like writing a piece without names. Each character that is mentioned is described in a way in which, you should be able to know who is whom. This story came from me wanting to explore the sadder angle of what could happen after Sakura and Naruto get Sasuke back.

Spoilers: If you're not watching the Japanese Anime and reading the Manga, don't bother. You'll be spoiled.

Word Count: 617

            They didn't talk much anymore. There wasn't much left to say between them. Things like "I'm sorry,” "I understand,” and "It's okay" were all lies.

            The black-haired man with red eyes wasn't sorry.

            The blond-haired man with scratches on each cheek didn't understand.

            The pink-haired woman with jade eyes knew it wasn't okay.

            So they just didn't talk. Talking seemed petty and words were insufficient for what they felt. They had done too much talking at one point in their lives. Talking had never done them any good. Now seemed like a good time to stop.

            Even on missions there wasn't much to say. They didn't talk unless it was absolutely necessary and now days it wasn't. They knew each other. They knew what the other would do. They had a silent communication developed through pain and loss and the unwillingness to speak. They preferred it that way.

            No one understood the silence between them. Why these three teammates refused to talk to or about each other to anyone. Why weren't the two who worked so hard to bring him back not happy? It was the question on everyone's mind.

            Only their respective sensei understood. The gray-haired man with two mismatched eyes knew about the pain between teammates and the regret that should linger with it. The blonde-haired woman who never aged and the man who tamed frogs, understood losing a teammate and the moments of wondering why it happened, how you didn't see it coming, and what you could have done to stop it. The gentle man with the scar across his nose knew how deep the pain of betrayal ran, he knew about having your best friend stab you in the back.

            So yes, their sensei understood. Maybe more than they would have liked. It pained their teachers to see them in pain. It hurt their teachers to see them hurt each other.

            Their sparring was not pretty to anyone's eyes. Not to their sensei and not to their friends. It was vengeful and deadly. None of them holding back. All three of them releasing anger and pain.

            There were times the blonde-haired woman would be called to restrain her apprentice, for fear the pink-haired woman would kill the black-haired man. The pink-haired woman would take off into the trees with tears in her eyes and the blond-haired man would go after her, followed by the black-haired man once he could move.

            They always returned together, most times with the blond-haired man carrying the pink-haired woman and the black-haired man following behind. They would return back to their apartment, among whispers and musings.

            People wondered why someone did not break the cycle of violence between them. People wondered why their friends and sensei allowed them to live together in silence . . . in pain.

            The blond-haired man did not smile much or play pranks anymore.

            The pink-haired woman's world did not revolve around any man.

            The black-haired man was not so arrogant and never met anyone's eyes.

            What bond could possibly keep three broken souls in the company of their pain? No one could realize how thin the line between love and hate they treaded. The love that allowed the blond-haired man to lie on his back in bed at night with half of the pink-haired woman's body draped over his and the black-haired man nestled at her side. The hate that allowed the blond-haired man to watch with dead eyes as the pink-haired woman attacked the black-haired man with murderous intent.

            It was a thin line they must walk. A balancing act they must perform. Silence kept them on line, trapped in a vicious, unrelenting harmony. Silence allowed them to hang on the edge of sanity.

The End.