[ He doesn't know if what he can offer will be enough, if it'll help the shot-out, pitch-dark emptiness in her eyes. Doesn't know if what he can give with his body, his mouth, his hands will be what she actually needs, if he's what she needs, but he'll try.

He kisses her in a way that's all-consuming, all tongue and teeth and heat as the hand cupping her face slides to grip the nape of her neck, squeezing as he pulls her forward, his other hand sliding to curl around her side in a swift, steady stroke.

What he's doing here for her has nothing to do with what he wants or needs, has nothing to do with the times they've shared their bodies, or all the other times they've kissed.

This is a process, a deliverance, a release. This is Kakashi telling Ginia that she doesn't need to be in control at the moment, that she can be weak, vulnerable, can let him help her put together the pieces of her that cut apart her hands at the moment. That she can let go and let him hold onto her, steady and strong like the earth in the midst of a storm. Let it rage on over them both, high up overhead, ripping up the detritus of the past and laying the ground bare so she can start over again. ]