Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Pretty Little Hate Machine ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: forgetmenow 
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.12.2005 | Updated On: 11.22.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.8K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.12.2005 | Updated On: 11.22.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.8K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and honestly I would probably never have the creative capacity to think of something even close. Kudos to Masashi Kishimoto!
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Pretty Little Hate Machine
[Edited & Revised: 11-20-05]
By: Forgetmenow
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Pretty Little Hate Machine
[Edited & Revised: 11-20-05]
By: Forgetmenow
Spoilers: TV and manga are fair game
______________________________
Following the invasion of Konoha and Gaara's encounter with the blonde nin, Temari and Kankurou had rushed Gaara back to Suna. It had been one of the quickest trips and one of the longest for the siblings. Despite the burden of an unconscious Gaara, it was a swift trip home. The trio made it back to familiar soil in record haste. They were at a safe house that was a day away from Sunagakure on the outskirts of the forest, just before pebbles and rocks deteriorate into grains of sand. Suna's elders were wary of Gaara's transformations and his mental instability; if a mission did not go according to plan their protocol was to fall back to the safe house.
Never had Gaara sustained such an injurious defeat. Well, a defeat in general for him was already unusual. The Uchiha had delivered a good strike. Gaara bled. Temari was no medical nin, but she was skilled enough to stop the sluggish bleeding and patch up the wound. It went beyond basic training. Some would say it was talent, that she had a calling, a knack, but really, it was Gaara. For him, she went beyond her limits. To help him, she would give 110 percent and then some more. Whatever was required of her. However, despite her efforts there would be a scar. A mark to show he was human after all. But also, a sign that his sister too knew that he was human.
Uzumaki Naruto too had delivered a physical blow, intense enough to draw blood. It was more superficial than anything else, easily healed with just the faintest hint of a bruise. Despite the external repercussions, the two older siblings were more concerned about the psychological consequences. Gaara's psyche was already fragile enough. He rarely ever showed any emotion beyond anger, bloodlust, and well, just not giving a damn.
Gaara apologized. He was sorry. He's never shown remorse or regret in the past.
Temari unhooked the gourd from Gaara's back, as Kankurou eased his brother off his shoulder onto the bed. She set it down on the floor with a thud. How Gaara managed to carry the oversized burden was beyond her. She dragged it over to the corner, propping it in the nook. It wouldn't tip there. She made her way back to bed, her steps slow.
There, the unconscious sand nin lay, with one hand on his side, the other resting on his stomach, his head resting on a beaten pillow. Temari's stuffed weasel plushie sat to the left of his cheek next to the pillow. She had two. One sat on her desk back in her room, located in a towering structure in Suna. The other was here keeping Gaara company. This toy was more ragged than the one back at the city. What was once an ivory white pelt now was a dull off-white, almost grey. The fur was coarse but clean. The matted coat remained in little clumpy locks, the result of too many rough cleanings where each strand no longer held its individuality. One of its glass beaded eyes was missing, but not easily noticeable because of the black patched area around the eyes.
“Unh….”Temari winced as she flexed her neck and shoulders, an audible crack breaking the silence, a slight frown on her lips.
“That didn't sound good. You okay? You need me to look at it,” Kankurou said glancing over.
“Iie…I'll live.” She was not priority. Her safety and well-being came second…correction; third, she had two brothers after all. She could feel the dull pain in her lower back, but ignored it for the time being.
The flesh was tender and soft.
No doubt, it's bruised. A rib is broken too, at least one… most likely two.
It was a dull pain that intensified with certain movements and turns of her body. She would bear it.
When she had fled alone with Gaara, that's when it happened. She held no grudge against him for what he did. His arm had been over her shoulder as she supported them both through their escape through the dense path of tree trunks and branches. He had ordered her to get away however; she cared more about him than to obey by his orders
Then Gaara had stuck her.
She smashed into the solid trunk of a tree 50 meters away. Distance had not lessened the force of the impact. She absently rubbed her hand against her abdomen, a nagging pain radiating there too.
The inhuman strength of the blow alone was intense, yet the compounded damage was hard to put off.
I'll need to put the self healing jutsu to work tonight. I'm not waiting weeks for my body to heal on its own.
Gaara wasn't himself then. He was too unbalanced because Shukaku had been on the threshold of taking over.
“I'm getting too old for this.” Kankurou sighed, his body sagging slightly.
“Being a big brother is a lifetime commitment.”
Kankurou thought over her words.
“Yeah, well, no one asked me if I wanted a little brother.” He said with a frown, his brow furrowing.
After a few moments...
“Ditto.”
They both shifted their attention back to the motionless form on the bed. Gaara's breathing was even and steady.
“Do you ever think `what-if?'' Temari said solemnly.
“'What-if' what?”
Another pause, as Temari gathered her thoughts.
“Where do I start? …What if Gaara didn't have Shukaku inside him? What if we never had a little brother? Would father have put Shukaku in you or me? What if mom lived? You think Gaara would be any less …unstable, even with Shukaku inside him? You think our family would be any less screwed up than it already is? What if we were a normal family?”
Kankurou was silent.
“Hmph, `normal.' Now that's an idea...” His voice was thoughtful.
“I do know something though.” His head slightly bowed, bringing back memories that he rarely recalled.
He raised his head and looked directly at Temari's sea green eyes. “I wouldn't be the person I am today without him…” The expression in his eyes said more than the words he was saying. “…or you.”
“Yeah, normal would be nice…” He said an almost awed tone.
“…but I'm grateful to Gaara. Growing up with him has been like training 24-7. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Because of him, I've reached a potential I never would have reached alone.”
“What makes you think it was him that was the cause?” Temari questioned.
“Heh, do you have so little faith in your brothers?”
“No, I trust you both… with my life…” She paused and tried to find the words for what she felt.
He could see that she wanted to say more but nothing came. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“S'ok, I know what you're trying to say even if you don't.”
“Feelings are meant to be felt…here...“ His free hand tapped the area in the middle of his chest. “not heard.”
When did Kankurou become so wise? She looked at him wide-eyed. Sometimes his insight surprised her.
“Of course, if you can find the words for them, like me, all the more power to you.” He gave her a wide grin, his eyes squinty with pride. She eyed him suspiciously.
“Heh, some big sister you are.” He ruffled her hair, loosening some of the ties holding her hair up. Temari glared at him.
“And as some big sister advice, perhaps it's time to stop playing with the dolls.”
Kankurou looked abhorred.
“They're not dolls!” He huffed
Temari gave him a sideways look showing she was less than convinced. He would have to try better than that if he wanted to change her mind.
“If anything, they're action figures!” He emphasized with a stomped of his foot.
“Action figures!” He stomped again.
“Shh, you'll wake him!” She hissed in a hushed tone, pressing her palm over his open mouth, her eyes wild with panic.
He mumbled something unintelligible behind her hand.
Gaara did not stir.
“I can't hear what you're saying,” removing her hand. With a perpendicular finger pressed against her lips she emphasized Kankurou to keep his voice level. He nodded.
“Anyway, Karasu and Kuro Ari are puppets! Respectable Suna weapons since the days of Shodai Kazekage…
“Whatever…” rolling her eyes but managing a giggle. “But you're never gonna catch a kunouchi if you wear more make-up than her.”
“Hey, don't go getting on my case. Look at you. In a few years, you're gonna end up shriveled and alone, worse than Chiyo-baa.” He said with a snicker.
He wished he could take back his words, but they were already spoken. Real thoughts and feelings made solid with a few raised decibels.
The room was filled a sobering and uncomfortable quietness.
He had hit a nerve-- a deep one. She didn't even retaliate by beating him on the head with her fan. No snide comeback, no act of violence. She just seemed to be staring into nothing, unfocused…or perhaps too focused.
“Sorry. I didn't mean it.”
“S'alright,” Temari shrugged. She remained silent. It was deafening as well as suffocating. It would've last all forever but he couldn't stand it any more. There were duties that had to be done.
“Baki isn't back. Neither is Kazekage. After all that's happened, they'll still want a mission report.” Kankurou looked back down at Gaara.
“Are you sure you want him in here? He does have his own room.” Kankurou turned back to Temari, meeting her gaze. The tension in the room was no longer quite as thick as seconds before.
“Iie, it's okay. I…can handle it. I can keep a better eye on him in case something happens.”
“Then I'll leave him to you,” giving her shoulder a final reassuring squeeze. The concern was apparent on his face, no matter how much he tried to conceal his emotions beneath the layers of purple paint. He cared for his younger brother. Gaara was the baby of the family, yet the one with the hardest life.
“Good journey,” she said to him just before he left.
“Full moon's passed, but keep the window open, otherwisehe'll feel too caged,” before giving a two fingered salute and silently closing the door
Temari gave a curt acknowledging nod. A lock of hair fell into her face.
She muttered under her breath before giving a defeated sigh.
Unhooking the pins and ties in her hair, it fell in a golden cascade around her shoulders. The only way to fix it would be to redo it from the start. She laid the accessories on the dresser for the time being, running her hands through the sunny tresses as she walked back to the bedside.
When she was alone around Gaara, she was not afraid. She felt more awkward than anything else. His presence was unnerving, as if he were calculating some plot behind those icy eyes of his. She was the only one who could calm him from his volatile bursts of instability. Why did she have this power over him…or more importantly, why did he allow her this control over him? Perhaps her femininity reminded him of the framed picture of their mother, the matronly figure he so craved. Personally, she found him to be quite tolerable to be around, most of the time.
But, resting before her was not a conscious Gaara. She was alone with a sleeping Gaara. Now, she was afraid. The feeling made her heart skip a beat. She knew her terror was fabricated, the uncertain possibilities invented by fear. If a transformation were to occur, it would've happened already.
She bent across the bed, prone over Gaara's sleeping form, to reach the window latch. She was careful not to slip and possibly fall over him. She pressed against the glass pane, pushing it slightly ajar. The cool night air crept into the darkened room.
She would keep the room dim for Gaara's sake. Only the faint light from the moon illuminated the room. Any other light would be jarring if he awoke. Gaara's unconsciousness was reaching near 48 hours. Temari couldn't recall the last time Gaara had even an hour of good rest.
When they had arrived it was already dusk. Twilight lingered beyond the horizon. Now, the moon had risen high in the night sky to take its place among the stars. It grinned its sideways Cheshire cat smile at her.
The eerie beckoning of that celestial body would do no harm for the time being. Shukaku would not emerge this night or tomorrow, or within the next fortnight. There would be no transformation while Gaara slept. The creature was subdued enough to allow Gaara some peace. Though, that's not to say the Biju didn't seethe and writhe within its human vessel. Gaara's body was physically exhausted, his chakra depleted. Even with the Ichibi's chakra, it would not be enough if the flesh was unwilling. Yet, she was still uneasy; the result of years and years of being edgy.
A shooting pain shot through her torso. She hissed an intake of breath as she pushed herself back from the window. She had extended her body too much, the sinews and fibers yanked and pulled against her damaged bones. She gritted her teeth. She had thought she could ignore the pain for the most part, but now it came back to haunt her.
She sat knees folded beneath her. She made the hand signs for the medical ninjutsu and then a green glow emanated from her palms. She was one of the rare nin who knew medical ninjutsu, yet did not dedicate her skill to the profession. However, the sibling team never needed it, not with Gaara, so her talents often went to waste. The soft green glow was warming as she laid her hands over her stomach. The dull aches and pains in her body faded as the healing chakra flowed though her. The gentle heat was comforting. Her body felt whole again, as if she found something lost. Her body radiated warmth like a bright beacon in the shadows. She stole quick glances at the bed; his breathing was slow and rhythmic like the slow tick of a metronome. When she was done, a chilling air surrounded her. Goosebumps prickled her skin. The wholesome feelings she felt earlier quickly dissipated.
Temari scooted to kneel at the bedside. She laid her hands on the bed, folding them together, her chin rested on her hands. She could gaze at him forever, his sleeping face entrancing. How could he instill such numbing fear in her? Most of the time, she'd freeze in her spot, her blood would become like ice in her veins. Now, he didn't look so terrifying. He looked helpless. Her stuffed animal was a humanizing accessory. He was human, regardless of how much he or anyone else refused to accept it. His purpose was not to inflict pain. Shukaku's presence had overlapped Gaara's self worth to where others only viewed him as the menacing demon, including himself. No one saw the young man within the shadow of the Ichibi. He bled just like everyone else. He had feelings like everyone else. He could feel regret. He could feel joy and sorrow. He could feel the cold despair called loneliness. He knew the meaning of loneliness more than she could possibly comprehend.
She could recall his voice in her head.
I'm just a demon.
“Demon or not, we are bound to each other, by blood and by purpose.”
She dragged herself up from the floor. She removed his shoes, foot by foot. She undid his vest, the leather mantle which helped support the weight of the gourd, unlatching buckle by buckle. She meticulously eased the body armor off, cautious not to make the movements too jarring.
The mattress dipped slightly as Temari sat then lay on the bed. His slumber went undisturbed. She curled against his side. Her gazed was transfixed on the beating pulse along his throat. His body was frigid. His skin was cool to the touch. She could feel the coldness of his body seep into her as the heat within her radiated to him. Her hand caressed his face, turning his ever so slightly so she could look at his sleeping face.
“Beautiful,” pushing a stray lock of scarlet away from his forehead, her eyes softening. His face was flawless: smooth and unblemished.
“Do you still have a demon behind those shadowed eyelids of yours?” She traced her thumb lightly over the darkened skin. The black rings were contrasting around his eyes, obvious signs insomnia, the only defense against the torment he bottled up within himself. Her fingers glided over the red mark above his eye. Love. Why love? What made love so special that it was carved into his flesh? He was like machine of hate that destroyed everything it encountered. A machine that bled every creature it came across. Crushed... maimed...slaughtered...killed by something so pretty and so beautiful. No, that wasn't him. That wasn't the real him. He was beyond that, so much more.
She nuzzled his neck, inhaling the scent of him, a unique aroma that was masculine and earthy. Only his.
She recalled his voice again: Temari, Kankurou. I'm sorry.
“There's nothing for you to apologize about.” She traced his soft lips from where the apology sprang. His breath was warm against her fingertips. She was older; she didn't need him to protect her. If anything, it was her duty to protect baby brother. He'd become a cold person. He had such inner turmoil. He hated the world for the way it mistreated and hurt him. She was determined to change it, as he himself had change two days prior.
“I will keep you safe.” She was resolute. “I'll keep you warm …and loved,” her hand resting over Gaara's heart, the soft drumming beneath her fingertips. His gentle breathing lulled her eyes closed...
She must've dozed off. She awoke with a feeling of inner peace and serenity. Her body was warm and content, as if this comforting feeling--this place in her being that this emotion rested, was her home. It was like a room in her spirit, filled with light and warmth. This place in her soul was where she was meant to be, the place she would always strive to return to, the place she would fight for, and give her life for. This place, this moment in time, this feeling, it was all that mattered. One arm, she had folded to cradle the side of her head while the other limb was wrapped around Gaara's body. His arms had moved, they were now folded over him, the fingertips grazing her skin.
She carefully disentangled her arm, sliding it out from under Gaara's limbs. It would be awkward if Gaara had awoken first. How could she explain this to him? The need she had to protect him, to melt the ice around his heart, to warm him to the world. She quietly slipped off the bed to the floor, the mattress slightly rising in the absence of weight.
She stood up to leave. She needed blankets and a sleeping mat stored in the hallway closet.
Temari stepped out of the room, closing the door with as little of a click and squeak as the aged wood and metal hinges would allow. Gaara's eyes opened. He turned his head sideways on the pillow, staring at the doorway. His eyes were clear and alert, no indication of drowsiness or fatigue evident in the pale turquoise irises.
Temari didn't notice.
(TO BE CONTINUED?…)
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I'm debating on whether to do a Ch2 or not ... I want to include some smexy sandcest but um...I got writer's block, LOL >.<;
Currently, working on Ch3 of The Way We Were.
Thanks for your support!
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Following the invasion of Konoha and Gaara's encounter with the blonde nin, Temari and Kankurou had rushed Gaara back to Suna. It had been one of the quickest trips and one of the longest for the siblings. Despite the burden of an unconscious Gaara, it was a swift trip home. The trio made it back to familiar soil in record haste. They were at a safe house that was a day away from Sunagakure on the outskirts of the forest, just before pebbles and rocks deteriorate into grains of sand. Suna's elders were wary of Gaara's transformations and his mental instability; if a mission did not go according to plan their protocol was to fall back to the safe house.
Never had Gaara sustained such an injurious defeat. Well, a defeat in general for him was already unusual. The Uchiha had delivered a good strike. Gaara bled. Temari was no medical nin, but she was skilled enough to stop the sluggish bleeding and patch up the wound. It went beyond basic training. Some would say it was talent, that she had a calling, a knack, but really, it was Gaara. For him, she went beyond her limits. To help him, she would give 110 percent and then some more. Whatever was required of her. However, despite her efforts there would be a scar. A mark to show he was human after all. But also, a sign that his sister too knew that he was human.
Uzumaki Naruto too had delivered a physical blow, intense enough to draw blood. It was more superficial than anything else, easily healed with just the faintest hint of a bruise. Despite the external repercussions, the two older siblings were more concerned about the psychological consequences. Gaara's psyche was already fragile enough. He rarely ever showed any emotion beyond anger, bloodlust, and well, just not giving a damn.
Gaara apologized. He was sorry. He's never shown remorse or regret in the past.
Temari unhooked the gourd from Gaara's back, as Kankurou eased his brother off his shoulder onto the bed. She set it down on the floor with a thud. How Gaara managed to carry the oversized burden was beyond her. She dragged it over to the corner, propping it in the nook. It wouldn't tip there. She made her way back to bed, her steps slow.
There, the unconscious sand nin lay, with one hand on his side, the other resting on his stomach, his head resting on a beaten pillow. Temari's stuffed weasel plushie sat to the left of his cheek next to the pillow. She had two. One sat on her desk back in her room, located in a towering structure in Suna. The other was here keeping Gaara company. This toy was more ragged than the one back at the city. What was once an ivory white pelt now was a dull off-white, almost grey. The fur was coarse but clean. The matted coat remained in little clumpy locks, the result of too many rough cleanings where each strand no longer held its individuality. One of its glass beaded eyes was missing, but not easily noticeable because of the black patched area around the eyes.
“Unh….”Temari winced as she flexed her neck and shoulders, an audible crack breaking the silence, a slight frown on her lips.
“That didn't sound good. You okay? You need me to look at it,” Kankurou said glancing over.
“Iie…I'll live.” She was not priority. Her safety and well-being came second…correction; third, she had two brothers after all. She could feel the dull pain in her lower back, but ignored it for the time being.
The flesh was tender and soft.
No doubt, it's bruised. A rib is broken too, at least one… most likely two.
It was a dull pain that intensified with certain movements and turns of her body. She would bear it.
When she had fled alone with Gaara, that's when it happened. She held no grudge against him for what he did. His arm had been over her shoulder as she supported them both through their escape through the dense path of tree trunks and branches. He had ordered her to get away however; she cared more about him than to obey by his orders
Then Gaara had stuck her.
She smashed into the solid trunk of a tree 50 meters away. Distance had not lessened the force of the impact. She absently rubbed her hand against her abdomen, a nagging pain radiating there too.
The inhuman strength of the blow alone was intense, yet the compounded damage was hard to put off.
I'll need to put the self healing jutsu to work tonight. I'm not waiting weeks for my body to heal on its own.
Gaara wasn't himself then. He was too unbalanced because Shukaku had been on the threshold of taking over.
“I'm getting too old for this.” Kankurou sighed, his body sagging slightly.
“Being a big brother is a lifetime commitment.”
Kankurou thought over her words.
“Yeah, well, no one asked me if I wanted a little brother.” He said with a frown, his brow furrowing.
After a few moments...
“Ditto.”
They both shifted their attention back to the motionless form on the bed. Gaara's breathing was even and steady.
“Do you ever think `what-if?'' Temari said solemnly.
“'What-if' what?”
Another pause, as Temari gathered her thoughts.
“Where do I start? …What if Gaara didn't have Shukaku inside him? What if we never had a little brother? Would father have put Shukaku in you or me? What if mom lived? You think Gaara would be any less …unstable, even with Shukaku inside him? You think our family would be any less screwed up than it already is? What if we were a normal family?”
Kankurou was silent.
“Hmph, `normal.' Now that's an idea...” His voice was thoughtful.
“I do know something though.” His head slightly bowed, bringing back memories that he rarely recalled.
He raised his head and looked directly at Temari's sea green eyes. “I wouldn't be the person I am today without him…” The expression in his eyes said more than the words he was saying. “…or you.”
“Yeah, normal would be nice…” He said an almost awed tone.
“…but I'm grateful to Gaara. Growing up with him has been like training 24-7. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Because of him, I've reached a potential I never would have reached alone.”
“What makes you think it was him that was the cause?” Temari questioned.
“Heh, do you have so little faith in your brothers?”
“No, I trust you both… with my life…” She paused and tried to find the words for what she felt.
He could see that she wanted to say more but nothing came. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“S'ok, I know what you're trying to say even if you don't.”
“Feelings are meant to be felt…here...“ His free hand tapped the area in the middle of his chest. “not heard.”
When did Kankurou become so wise? She looked at him wide-eyed. Sometimes his insight surprised her.
“Of course, if you can find the words for them, like me, all the more power to you.” He gave her a wide grin, his eyes squinty with pride. She eyed him suspiciously.
“Heh, some big sister you are.” He ruffled her hair, loosening some of the ties holding her hair up. Temari glared at him.
“And as some big sister advice, perhaps it's time to stop playing with the dolls.”
Kankurou looked abhorred.
“They're not dolls!” He huffed
Temari gave him a sideways look showing she was less than convinced. He would have to try better than that if he wanted to change her mind.
“If anything, they're action figures!” He emphasized with a stomped of his foot.
“Action figures!” He stomped again.
“Shh, you'll wake him!” She hissed in a hushed tone, pressing her palm over his open mouth, her eyes wild with panic.
He mumbled something unintelligible behind her hand.
Gaara did not stir.
“I can't hear what you're saying,” removing her hand. With a perpendicular finger pressed against her lips she emphasized Kankurou to keep his voice level. He nodded.
“Anyway, Karasu and Kuro Ari are puppets! Respectable Suna weapons since the days of Shodai Kazekage…
“Whatever…” rolling her eyes but managing a giggle. “But you're never gonna catch a kunouchi if you wear more make-up than her.”
“Hey, don't go getting on my case. Look at you. In a few years, you're gonna end up shriveled and alone, worse than Chiyo-baa.” He said with a snicker.
He wished he could take back his words, but they were already spoken. Real thoughts and feelings made solid with a few raised decibels.
The room was filled a sobering and uncomfortable quietness.
He had hit a nerve-- a deep one. She didn't even retaliate by beating him on the head with her fan. No snide comeback, no act of violence. She just seemed to be staring into nothing, unfocused…or perhaps too focused.
“Sorry. I didn't mean it.”
“S'alright,” Temari shrugged. She remained silent. It was deafening as well as suffocating. It would've last all forever but he couldn't stand it any more. There were duties that had to be done.
“Baki isn't back. Neither is Kazekage. After all that's happened, they'll still want a mission report.” Kankurou looked back down at Gaara.
“Are you sure you want him in here? He does have his own room.” Kankurou turned back to Temari, meeting her gaze. The tension in the room was no longer quite as thick as seconds before.
“Iie, it's okay. I…can handle it. I can keep a better eye on him in case something happens.”
“Then I'll leave him to you,” giving her shoulder a final reassuring squeeze. The concern was apparent on his face, no matter how much he tried to conceal his emotions beneath the layers of purple paint. He cared for his younger brother. Gaara was the baby of the family, yet the one with the hardest life.
“Good journey,” she said to him just before he left.
“Full moon's passed, but keep the window open, otherwisehe'll feel too caged,” before giving a two fingered salute and silently closing the door
Temari gave a curt acknowledging nod. A lock of hair fell into her face.
She muttered under her breath before giving a defeated sigh.
Unhooking the pins and ties in her hair, it fell in a golden cascade around her shoulders. The only way to fix it would be to redo it from the start. She laid the accessories on the dresser for the time being, running her hands through the sunny tresses as she walked back to the bedside.
When she was alone around Gaara, she was not afraid. She felt more awkward than anything else. His presence was unnerving, as if he were calculating some plot behind those icy eyes of his. She was the only one who could calm him from his volatile bursts of instability. Why did she have this power over him…or more importantly, why did he allow her this control over him? Perhaps her femininity reminded him of the framed picture of their mother, the matronly figure he so craved. Personally, she found him to be quite tolerable to be around, most of the time.
But, resting before her was not a conscious Gaara. She was alone with a sleeping Gaara. Now, she was afraid. The feeling made her heart skip a beat. She knew her terror was fabricated, the uncertain possibilities invented by fear. If a transformation were to occur, it would've happened already.
She bent across the bed, prone over Gaara's sleeping form, to reach the window latch. She was careful not to slip and possibly fall over him. She pressed against the glass pane, pushing it slightly ajar. The cool night air crept into the darkened room.
She would keep the room dim for Gaara's sake. Only the faint light from the moon illuminated the room. Any other light would be jarring if he awoke. Gaara's unconsciousness was reaching near 48 hours. Temari couldn't recall the last time Gaara had even an hour of good rest.
When they had arrived it was already dusk. Twilight lingered beyond the horizon. Now, the moon had risen high in the night sky to take its place among the stars. It grinned its sideways Cheshire cat smile at her.
The eerie beckoning of that celestial body would do no harm for the time being. Shukaku would not emerge this night or tomorrow, or within the next fortnight. There would be no transformation while Gaara slept. The creature was subdued enough to allow Gaara some peace. Though, that's not to say the Biju didn't seethe and writhe within its human vessel. Gaara's body was physically exhausted, his chakra depleted. Even with the Ichibi's chakra, it would not be enough if the flesh was unwilling. Yet, she was still uneasy; the result of years and years of being edgy.
A shooting pain shot through her torso. She hissed an intake of breath as she pushed herself back from the window. She had extended her body too much, the sinews and fibers yanked and pulled against her damaged bones. She gritted her teeth. She had thought she could ignore the pain for the most part, but now it came back to haunt her.
She sat knees folded beneath her. She made the hand signs for the medical ninjutsu and then a green glow emanated from her palms. She was one of the rare nin who knew medical ninjutsu, yet did not dedicate her skill to the profession. However, the sibling team never needed it, not with Gaara, so her talents often went to waste. The soft green glow was warming as she laid her hands over her stomach. The dull aches and pains in her body faded as the healing chakra flowed though her. The gentle heat was comforting. Her body felt whole again, as if she found something lost. Her body radiated warmth like a bright beacon in the shadows. She stole quick glances at the bed; his breathing was slow and rhythmic like the slow tick of a metronome. When she was done, a chilling air surrounded her. Goosebumps prickled her skin. The wholesome feelings she felt earlier quickly dissipated.
Temari scooted to kneel at the bedside. She laid her hands on the bed, folding them together, her chin rested on her hands. She could gaze at him forever, his sleeping face entrancing. How could he instill such numbing fear in her? Most of the time, she'd freeze in her spot, her blood would become like ice in her veins. Now, he didn't look so terrifying. He looked helpless. Her stuffed animal was a humanizing accessory. He was human, regardless of how much he or anyone else refused to accept it. His purpose was not to inflict pain. Shukaku's presence had overlapped Gaara's self worth to where others only viewed him as the menacing demon, including himself. No one saw the young man within the shadow of the Ichibi. He bled just like everyone else. He had feelings like everyone else. He could feel regret. He could feel joy and sorrow. He could feel the cold despair called loneliness. He knew the meaning of loneliness more than she could possibly comprehend.
She could recall his voice in her head.
I'm just a demon.
“Demon or not, we are bound to each other, by blood and by purpose.”
She dragged herself up from the floor. She removed his shoes, foot by foot. She undid his vest, the leather mantle which helped support the weight of the gourd, unlatching buckle by buckle. She meticulously eased the body armor off, cautious not to make the movements too jarring.
The mattress dipped slightly as Temari sat then lay on the bed. His slumber went undisturbed. She curled against his side. Her gazed was transfixed on the beating pulse along his throat. His body was frigid. His skin was cool to the touch. She could feel the coldness of his body seep into her as the heat within her radiated to him. Her hand caressed his face, turning his ever so slightly so she could look at his sleeping face.
“Beautiful,” pushing a stray lock of scarlet away from his forehead, her eyes softening. His face was flawless: smooth and unblemished.
“Do you still have a demon behind those shadowed eyelids of yours?” She traced her thumb lightly over the darkened skin. The black rings were contrasting around his eyes, obvious signs insomnia, the only defense against the torment he bottled up within himself. Her fingers glided over the red mark above his eye. Love. Why love? What made love so special that it was carved into his flesh? He was like machine of hate that destroyed everything it encountered. A machine that bled every creature it came across. Crushed... maimed...slaughtered...killed by something so pretty and so beautiful. No, that wasn't him. That wasn't the real him. He was beyond that, so much more.
She nuzzled his neck, inhaling the scent of him, a unique aroma that was masculine and earthy. Only his.
She recalled his voice again: Temari, Kankurou. I'm sorry.
“There's nothing for you to apologize about.” She traced his soft lips from where the apology sprang. His breath was warm against her fingertips. She was older; she didn't need him to protect her. If anything, it was her duty to protect baby brother. He'd become a cold person. He had such inner turmoil. He hated the world for the way it mistreated and hurt him. She was determined to change it, as he himself had change two days prior.
“I will keep you safe.” She was resolute. “I'll keep you warm …and loved,” her hand resting over Gaara's heart, the soft drumming beneath her fingertips. His gentle breathing lulled her eyes closed...
She must've dozed off. She awoke with a feeling of inner peace and serenity. Her body was warm and content, as if this comforting feeling--this place in her being that this emotion rested, was her home. It was like a room in her spirit, filled with light and warmth. This place in her soul was where she was meant to be, the place she would always strive to return to, the place she would fight for, and give her life for. This place, this moment in time, this feeling, it was all that mattered. One arm, she had folded to cradle the side of her head while the other limb was wrapped around Gaara's body. His arms had moved, they were now folded over him, the fingertips grazing her skin.
She carefully disentangled her arm, sliding it out from under Gaara's limbs. It would be awkward if Gaara had awoken first. How could she explain this to him? The need she had to protect him, to melt the ice around his heart, to warm him to the world. She quietly slipped off the bed to the floor, the mattress slightly rising in the absence of weight.
She stood up to leave. She needed blankets and a sleeping mat stored in the hallway closet.
Temari stepped out of the room, closing the door with as little of a click and squeak as the aged wood and metal hinges would allow. Gaara's eyes opened. He turned his head sideways on the pillow, staring at the doorway. His eyes were clear and alert, no indication of drowsiness or fatigue evident in the pale turquoise irises.
Temari didn't notice.
(TO BE CONTINUED?…)
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I'm debating on whether to do a Ch2 or not ... I want to include some smexy sandcest but um...I got writer's block, LOL >.<;
Currently, working on Ch3 of The Way We Were.
Thanks for your support!