Evan as a child Gaara had always been mildly disturbed. It could've been his strange 'premonitions' he received in his dreams, or it could've come from the parental abuse he sustained from his father. He had also heard voices, sometimes they were very faint, seeming to whisper to him from across the world, other times they were screaming painfully into his ears, tearing and ripping at his eardrums, demanding they be heard. And the poor child Gaara was, had thought this was normal.

No one ever paid Gaara any attention when he made complaints about these mysterious otherworldly voices; they were all too busy playing with…'clay', trying to sculpt the poor neglected child into their own creation, their own tool. They didn't think that the twisted, pitiful Gaara would ever amount to anything. They were wrong.

Hush now baby don't you cry

Mama's gonna make all of your

Nightmares come true.

Mama's gonna put all her fears into you

Mama's gonna keep you right here

Under her wing

She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing

Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.

Ooooh babe, ooooh babe, ooooh babe

Of course mama'll help build the wall.

Pink Floyd, Mother

That night, as Gaara lay peacefully in bed, a delightfully frightening smile plastered onto his face, another childhood memory replayed in his head, though this one brought him much pleasure.

A younger version of the red-headed enigma stalked the streets, making them his own by casting his frightful shadow onto the path he wandered. In each small hand he carried a large can, full of gasoline with dampened rags hanging limply out the opening of the makeshift explosive, emitting that sometimes addicting smell. A horrid smile revealing most of his shiny white teeth decorated his pale face, his eyes wide with the monstrous glee he felt, almost maddening.

He crossed paths with a mailbox, filled to the brim with letters, bills and the like. A deep laughter, almost demonic came from is throat, making anyone who noticed the child receive an un-delightful chill rush up their spine. If it weren't so dark out, many people would have experienced this ravishing treat. Without a moment's hesitation, he gently placed his precious cans onto the ground beside the box and withdrew a small pack of fire kindling sticks known to us as matches. He struck the head of the stick against the strip that came with the pack and paused, watching the flame flicker and dance in the gently blowing wind. Its life was in his hands…with a careless flick, he could end this beautiful things life. After he stared into the deep never ending abyss of the small flame, he opened the lid of the mailbox and tossed the still lit match casually into the mailbox.

Almost as if in a dream, the wooden box that carried precious information burst immediately into glorious yellow golden-orange flames, licking the night sky tenderly. His awkward smile spread across his face like a plague, his eyes stretching, testing the limits of his eye sockets. His laughter now became a shrill shriek of joy as his one true passion in life unfolded before his enlightened eyes.

At long last he retrieved the beer cans filled with the flammable liquid and moved on. He lit several more mailboxes before it suddenly hit him. He wanted more. He wanted huge flames, flames that would engulf this hateful world he was forced to be a part of. Gaara's hands shook with excitement when he realized he could do bigger better things with his flame making ability, and so he set off, searching for the perfect target in which to set the world aflame.

He stumbled upon it as if by accident, or maybe it was destiny, he never could figure it out.

The house that loomed in front of him wiped the evil smile off his face and caused an odd sensation to overcome his small body. Deep down inside, he knew that this was it. This was what would satisfy his outrageous Pyro thirst. He set down his cans and stood back up, staring at the house. He knew that if he was caught, he would most certainly be sent to juvy, or something to the like. This was a devastating crime for a 5 year old to be committing, but then again, Gaara was no ordinary 5 year old. Silently he repeated the action of swiping the fire stick across the strip the match package contained.

Swiftly he whisked one of the beer cans into his hand and quickly lit the limp cloth hanging out of it, pausing only long enough for it to catch and grow the brewing fire. Then, he aimed and launched it into a ground floor window. The crashing sound of the glass mixed with a small explosion as the can exploded. Soon he could see flames catch the curtains of the window and that crazed smile of his reappeared. Laughter soon followed this strange smile but quickly both the haunting laugh and the queer smile disappeared.

A face was in the window.

A child about Gaara's age was screaming in pain and agony, tears flowing steadily out of those lifeless eyes. The skin was drooping and melting, dripping to the floor as the face writhed in heart wrenching pain. The screams echoed in Gaara's head, bouncing around and around making Gaara scream too. The hair on the face of the head ignited and the face's crown burned as well, leaving nothing behind but a charred remain of a boy who once lived. Gaara did not stay to watch the amazing feat of human flesh melt and drip to the floor, oh no. Gaara was running, running as far as he could, screaming and sobbing, wishing he had never been born. The fear that possessed him was enormous and he got the continuous feeling of that boy's face following him. He continued to run, screaming for salvation as he chocked on his sobs, desperately willing oxygen to fill his empty lungs.

Gaara woke up screaming frightfully loud, the screams just pouring out his aching throat, rolling out of his mouth to fill the empty air. He wriggled his fingers into his red hair, and continued screaming, his eyes filled with an immense fear. Finally his screams subsided and gave way to immense sobs. He sat up in his bed and brought his knees up to his chest. He dunked his face into the nook his knees made and sobbed for hours on end, unable to sleep.

If you should go skating

On the thin ice of modern life,

Dragging behind you the silent reproach

Of a million tear stained eyes,

Don't be surprised, when a crack in the ice

Appears under your feet

You slip out of depth and out of your mind,

With your fear flowing out behind you

As you claw the thin ice.

Pink Floyd, The Thin Ice

A continuous ringing awakened Shikamaru that night. He groaned miserably and tried to shut out the phone as it rang madly off the hook. Finally he sat up, glaring angrily at the clock as it read 1:00 a.m. He sighed and flicked the lamp that sat on his bedside table on and grabbed the phone roughly, holding the receiver up to his ear.

"Moshi moshi." He said with sleep heavily laid out on his awkward voice.

"Good morning," the voice was thick and gravelly, cracking up in places and Shikamaru realized that the person speaking to him was trying to mask his voice by using a voice modifier.

"Who is this?" Shikamaru asked sternly, slightly alarmed at this mysterious phone call.

"That doesn't matter."

"What do you want? Who the hell is this?!"

A static sound followed and Shikamaru wasn't sure if the call had been dropped or if the speaker was laughing.

"Stay away from the flame or you will be burned."

"Huh? Wait, what's the-" the other line clicked and he stared blankly at the receiver, the last word of his unfinished sentence fell from his lips. "Flame…"

At last the slight adrenaline rush subsided and was replaced with sleepiness. He carefully put the phone back into place and turned the lights back off. He fell back onto his pillows and waited for the familiar sanctuary of sleep to come rushing back.

"Oy! Gaara, Gaara you awake? Get up; you're going to be late!"

Temari's voice floated in through his door and her fist banged against his door. Unwillingly Gaara had fallen asleep, still in his position of protection. Reluctant to move, he aroused himself, trying to shake the sleep out of his head.

Immediately a sharp throbbing pierced his head making him grasp his head and gasp for air. Slowly, as the pain subsided, he rubbed his forehead, massaging his temples gingerly. His vision had smeared when the pain had blistered into his head and he sat in his bed waiting for his vision to come back into focus. He sighed heavily as Temari banged again onto Gaara's door, urging him to get up. Afraid of more pain, he hesitantly picked his body up and off the bed.

He regretted this motion as the room swirled in front of him and the pain came back. The floor was slipping from under his bare feet and he felt himself falling backwards. He groped around for a support but found none. There had never been any support in his life. He groaned miserably as he tried to support himself onto his right arm. He closed his eyes in pain as his head throbbed continuously. It was as if he had an immense hangover. Finally he managed to prop himself up onto his elbows and he grimaced. At long last he staggered to his feet and nearly toppled onto his desk filled with random papers. He stared into the cracked mirror that sat at an odd angle and brushed the thin layer of dust that sat on the its reflective surface aside and took a good long look at himself.

A frightfully pale youth with several small fresh cuts on his forehead stared back into his dark, frightened emerald eyes.

-(o.o)-

The loud alarm in Shikamarus room went off, signaling for him to wake up. He slapped it, turning it off, abruptly ending the beeping from the clock. He muttered something angrily and rolled onto his side, then onto the floor. He groaned miserably before he got to his feet, the mysterious call from the previous night momentarily forgotten. Clearing his eyes, he glanced at his clock. 7:30 p.m. He yawned loudly and shuffled along in the dark, trying to find the oddly placed light switch. He continued walking in the darkness until he collided with his dresser. Cursing lightly he reached his hand behind the dresser and flicked the switch positioned behind the dresser.

The sudden light blinded him and he paused momentarily, letting his eyes adjust. He opened wide the bottom drawer and pulled out his fishnet shirt. He slipped it on and then placed a blue-ish pollo shirt. He closed this drawer and then dropped his pajama pants and opened the top drawer and removed a pair of black jeans. He glanced at the clock again and caught his breath, 7:40.

"Shit! I'm going to miss the bus!" He ran out of his room and paced about the living room, looking for his school things. "Shit shit shit!" He found them underneath the coffee table, hidden snuggly beside a pair of missing socks.

"Huh…was wondering wear these were…" he let his mind wander away for a few minutes before he remembered he was in a rush. He rose to his feet and ran to his front door. He quickly tucked on his shoes and tapped them for reassurance. He waved goodbye to the shrine of his mother and went out the door.

The cold wind blew against his frame as he fumbled in his pocket for his house key. He locked the door and turned just in time to see the bus rumbling off.

"Damn…" he muttered as he groaned inwardly and a small rush of depression overcame him. The slight recession of his cheery attitude changed drastically as he saw Gaara emerge from his house hold, the wind toying with his hair in a pleasant teasing fashion. Shikamaru quickly pocketed his key and ran to catch up to the awkward red-head.

(.) 'Hey little girl, want to see my…tentacles??!!'

The rhythmic thud of Shikamarus Converses pounding along the cement matched the horrid pulsing in Gaara's head and immediately Gaara knew today was not going to go well.

"Hey Gaara, what's up?" said Shikamaru as he caught up to Gaara, his breath crystallizing in front of him.

Gaara didn't answer and would not look at him, unable to muster the strength to raise his aching head against the chilling wind.

"You all right, Gaara?" Shikamaru asked, putting a hand on the youth's shoulder.

Gaara raised his head and stared ruefully at Shikamaru who stopped walking to get a good look at his friend. Gaara's face was frightfully pale as he squinted his eyes to look at Shikamaru, the pain in his head evident in his eyes. It may have been the chill wind blowing against Gaara's thin frame, but either way, he was shaking.

"Gaara?"

Gaara shook off Shikamarus hand and looked away.

"I'm fine."

Shikamaru looked after his friend as he started walking down the path again, swaying slightly.

"You don't look too good, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm f-i-n-e, fine."

Shikamaru started up his walking pace and met up with Gaara again.

"Odd weather, eh?"

"What?"

"This weather, I mean, it's only mid-October and look! It's snowing!" (this is to clear up my horrible weather/date skills)

Gaara didn't respond but kept his course, not feeling the need to conversate with the boy who complained about absolutely everything.

"Yup," continued Shikamaru, ignoring Gaara's obvious un-interest. "It's usually pretty warm in October…I mean, this weather, it baffles me. It's going to completely throw off my entire flower's growth! And what then will I do to keep my yard interesting eh? What then will I have to paint?"

Gaara scrunched up his face in annoyance but continued walking along in silence. Shikamaru did not catch Gaara's obvious hint and went right on with what he was complaining about.

"It's so cold! Why is it so cold?" he rubbed his bare arms and smiled an odd quirky smile.

Gaara's patience was being strained and Gaara struggled to keep his voice level as he spoke roughly.

"If your so god dammed cold, why don't you buy a fucking jacket?"

Shikamaru thought briefly for a minute before speaking again, making it appear as if he had finally shut up. That is, until Shikamaru spoke again.

"Yes…I see the wisdom in buying a jacket…perhaps I'll get one later today."

"Hmmph"

Another, stronger silence ensued as Shikamaru gazed thoughtfully at Gaara, his finger slowly stroking his chin.

"Do you play guitar?" he asked at last. Gaara sighed and dropped his head.

"What?" said Gaara, his voice exasperated and annoyed.

"Y'know, that instrument that has a feminine figure? That's a guitar."

"I know what a damn guitar is, idiot. I meant it in a 'why do you ask' sort of way."

"Oh" Gaara watched as Shikamaru closed his eyes in thought, waiting for Shikamarus inevitable reply and was mildly surprised when he received none. Suddenly Gaara understood. He rolled his eyes and continued walking in silence. If Shikamaru wanted to play this game, Gaara could play too.

Shikamaru shot Gaara several agitated glances, trying to catch the emerald eyes that remained as emotionless as ever. Gaara's face was stone cold as he gave no recognition of noticing Shikamarus glances. Finally, exasperated, Shikamaru threw up his hands in agitation and glared evilly at Gaara.

"Well?" he demanded angrily.

Gaara shot a quick glance at him "Well what?"

Shikamaru scowled "Aren't you going to inquire as to why I was asking if you played?"

"No." he answered with such frankness that made Shikamaru begin to laugh.

Confused, Gaara stared at the odd boy with a small interest. An odd feeling Gaara hadn't felt since Lee died came over him and he felt a strong urge to laugh with him, to be carefree and cast away all his troubles. To just laugh and laugh the way Shikamaru was doing, to just laugh without any explanation at all…to be free.

"I bet your not going to ask why I was laughing either" said Shikamaru as he caught his breath, the laughter subsiding. "So I'll save my breath. Two can play your game, mister hotshot. Two can play."

Gaara almost ventured a smile but quickly caught himself. After all the trouble he had gone through to not feel happy, smiling now would mean that all his time being solemn was a waste. And Gaara did not like to waste things.

The day passed by with no special events, except for his run in with the Hyuuga boy. He had exchanged a few words with the boy called Neji, but that was all. It was nothing special, at least, not to him.

The bell that released the students to return to their living space rang at last, the last minutes of school always being the longest. Gaara waited for the large crowd of students to stop before he left his classroom and began his trek home. He did not wait for Shikamaru, for he felt that he couldn't deal with much more of Shikamaru's shenanigans. He walked alone, savoring the sweet silence.

(x.x)

As Gaara pushed open his front door and made his way into the kitchen, Temari was on the phone, which was not unusual, but her facial expressions were out of the ordinary. Her brow was creased down over her blue eyes and her mouth was set into a firm frown of distaste as she patiently listened to the voice on the other end of the receiver.

"Ugh…yea, I suppose I can come get him…yeah, uh-huh…" Gaara made his way slowly past Temari, heading for the stairs that lead to his sanctuary.

"Hold on for a moment please?" Temari put a hand over the bottom portion of the phone and spoke to Gaara directly. "Gaara, wait here for a second, ok?"

Gaara frowned but pulled out one of the chairs that circled the kitchen table and sat and stared at his sister. Temari felt his intense gaze and hesitantly turned her back to him, to avoid looking into those emerald pools of pure hatred.

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll get there as soon as I can. Bye."

She hung up and sighed, slowly turning to face Gaara.

"Gaara," she began after a strong moment of silence. "Kankuro's been arrested for drug dealing in the next state over and they want me to come and watch him."

Gaara sat with unblinking eyes as his sister gazed at him with tired eyes.

"That means I'll be gone for a couple days, but I'll get back as soon as I can, ok? Do you think you'll be alright till then?"

He stared at her coolly.

"Can you handle yourself?" she stated more firmly, looking determinedly into his eyes.

"I'll be fine…"he murmured silently, but it was enough for Temari.

She glanced at the staircase and then back at her brother and laid a gentle hand on his stiffened shoulder.

"If he comes down, call the police, ok? Run away if you have to; just don't let him hurt you. Don't let him touch you."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged her hand off his shoulder. They had had this talk many times before, he knew what to do, he wasn't a baby anymore and he wished she'd stop treating him like one. She stepped back to look at her brother one last time before she left. She turned her back on him and grabbed her purse, heading for the front door.

"Good…luck…"he muttered silently, just barely loud enough for her to hear him.

Nonetheless, the words reached her ears and she smiled to herself. She knew that if she turned to face her brother, he would be gazing elsewhere with those uncaring eyes of his. Those words meant a lot to her and she left the house in a cheery mood.

Gaara remained seated at the table for several minutes after his sister had left. She had left him…left him to deal with whatever misfortune came his way, and she hadn't even told him good-bye.