Sometimes we just need an anchor

Kakashi stared at the memorial stone, ignoring the cold drizzle dampening his hair and fogging up his harsh breath. The mistakes of his past seemed to taunt him, tease him, never actually affording him release from his ever-present guilt. His father, Obito, Rin, Minato-sensei, Kushina, and lastly Hiruzen Sarutobi. His shoulders hunched over and shook. Everyone who had ever loved him died. Kakashi forced his mind away from Rin's flat brown eyes staring blankly at him, his name on her dying breath.

"Kakashi" He whirled around, his heartbeat wildly. For a moment the voice that whispered his name, was Rin's, the brown eyes slightly darker, brown hair shorter and straighter.

Then he blinked.

"Oh, hello Nalia." He replied back. Nalia smiled up at him, sadness tugging at the corners of her eyes. She walked slightly off the path, her gigantic, ugly yellow umbrella adding forceful cheer to the somber clearing.

"You'll catch a cold out here." She admonished gently. She stood next to him and offered her umbrella to him. His mask covered how his lips quirked slightly at her reddened cheeks. "Here, you hold it. I'm too short to try and raise it above your head." She grumbled. Nalia huffed. Her height had always been a sore spot for her. Kakashi took the offered umbrella and held up as she sidled closer to him, her left arm firmly against his right.

The effect of her touch, even though her thick sleeve of her funeral yukata, was instantaneous. The ice that had been crystallizing his bones, melted, the wave of emotions he had pent up at the Sandaime's funeral threatening to crash through the damn he had built. She leaned further into him, her fingers gently forcing his clenched hand to relax. Kakashi let her hold his hand, slightly ashamed that he felt relieved from her warm hand against his cold, clammy ones.

"Have you been here since the funeral?" She asked him. Her voice held no judgement, no shock so he felt no need to lie or come up with one of his many excuses.

"Yeah" He said quietly. Her hand squeezed his comfortingly, the warmth from her hand sliding up his arm and warming his chest as well.

The Sandaime's funeral was the first funeral for those who had lost their lives in the failed invasion. The cemetery had closed down and the majority of chunin and jonin level ninjas had participated in the funeral procession and final entombment. He remembered seeing Nalia towards the edge, standing behind her brother as his lover held his hand while he mourned. He remembered feeling bothered that hot tears fell down her cheeks despite her face not scrunching up or her nose sniffing while she cried, hinting that maybe she didn't realize she was crying.

How fucked would that be?

"How many did you go to?" He asked her and immediately wished he hadn't. Nalia worked at the hospital, as a student of one of the best medics in the village, she would have encountered death a great deal in her training.

"Too many." She whispered. If it wasn't for his enhanced hearing, he might not have heard it over the pitter patter of the rain. "It's fitting isn't it? For rain on such a horribly sad day. Its almost as if the gods are mourning with us." She mused, almost a bit too cheerfully. He noticed when she didn't ask him how many funerals he went to today either. He guessed cause she already knew the answer.

Too. Many.

So they stood there together in the rain, even as lightening danced in the clouds like unruly children, Nalia stayed next to him, her warmth sliding through his body from where she held his hand, heating up and melting the ice in his chest.

It was the crack of thunder finally splitting the dark clouds above them that snapped him out of his trance. He turned to look down at his spooked companion, her hair standing on end like she was electrocuted.