Thanks again to those of you who care to review. That's Pokemon Trainer White, dreamwithinadream262, maxridelover, RakCetGirl, Hikiri, GaarasBloodRose, Akari. Wolf. Princess., wanderfab, Ernest Reviewer, OfSilverandDice, LoloxBear, Gaaras1Girl, TheRoseDragon, Snowlily246, and some Random person. I've always appreciated the feedback you all offer. It's very encouraging.

When I had first met Gaara some three or so years ago, he had entered my life as with all the sudden severity of a bomb detonating. Then suddenly, he had left it in a similar fashion, his presence in my life leaving a throbbing pain second only to that of my mother's.

True to the trend in which he had thus far operated, Gaara didn't disappoint.

I had a little over a week until December was over. Surely the Hisuna siblings were looking forward to spending Christmas with one another without me hovering over their shoulder, so Kankuro had requested that this dinner we had planned would take place before the holidays. I hadn't heard from Kakashi since the beginning of the month, and usually, after going nearly a month with no word from him, I would start missing the jerk.

This time, however, I was not missing him.

My heart cringed with anxiety when Kakashi's voice echoed over the phone, and I fought with myself to maintain a tone of glee as I bitterly recalled my last conversation with him. My grudge was slightly alleviated when he made a point of the reason for his phone call.

"I'm hoping to send you a candidate soon," He said happily, clearly proud of himself for discovering such a find. "I've just faxed you her resume, so you should be getting that any moment. I'd recommend you to look over that ASAP."

Even I felt my heart leap in anticipation at his good news, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Really? She must be some kind of special for you to sound as excited as you do, Kakashi."

"I think she'll be a great addition."

Kakashi was quiet for only a moment before removing himself once again from my good graces.

"Have you spoken with Gaara about dinner yet?"

Every fiber in my body bristled with offense, allowing only a soft sigh to indicate my emotions. She was not so subtle. From within, I could hear Miyune screeching like a banshee in her fury. She clearly hadn't calmed down since the day we last spoke with our boss, either.

"… I've spoken with Kankuro, since I don't have a way of contacting Gaara. We're looking at the 22nd."

Actually, Kankuro was pulling for the twenty-third. I was the one vying for the twenty-second of December, which was a Thursday evening and a week night. Scheduling events I reluctantly attended on weeknights, if possible, gave me a solid 'out' and allowed me to strategically play the "I have to work tomorrow morning, sorry I can't stay longer" card.

Satisfied with my obedience, Kakashi allowed the subject to fall to the wayside with a, "good". We exchanged pleasantries of the weather and what we planned on doing for the holidays, before bidding each other a pleasant evening.

Upon hanging up, I mused how even though our arguments were few and far between and we "got along" far better than ever before in these past three years, I was fully aware of the charade we played. Once, I had felt as if I knew Kakashi fairly well, and he wasn't a totally pleasant guy as my conversations nowadays often led me to falsely believe. It was made even more false by how well I knew the man I often spoke to was not the real Kakashi, but a façade of polite civility. The mask he wore was not unlike my own.

I sat a moment, lost in thought. The "deteriorated" state of my once-kinda-sorta-friendship with Kakashi upset me, considering there hadn't been much there to deteriorate to begin with. I had told Kakashi that I would be having a "quiet holiday", but in actuality, that had meant that I was going to be alone. My father was going to Italy to visit his side of the family. He had invited me out of obligation, but I refused. They were distant relatives to me, people I hadn't seen since my mother's funeral, but I did feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of spending Christmas alone in Japan. Then dinner with the Hisuna brothers crossed my mind, scenarios of what could possibly go wrong and how I might get either kicked out or attacked flitting through my head, and my heart ached even more. At that moment I heard the fax machine hum to life in the next room, and my mind was focused once again on work as I rose to receive the incoming files.

And then, with mind distracted, my heart didn't seem to hurt so much.

Before I had even rolled out of bed Thursday morning, I was already scheming ways I could possibly bail on the Hisuna brothers with the least amount of retaliation from Kankuro and Kakashi. Upon lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, drawing a blank, I heaved a sigh of defeat and rose to face the day despite my better judgment.

Of course, since I was dreading the approaching evening, my day flew by in a blur. I remember glancing at the clock and groaning as the noon hour quickly ascended, then passed before I could properly lament its coming.

Neither Kiba nor Shikamaru could be bothered to work after hours regardless of the workload the company required, but Hinata often stayed back with me as we powered through another hour or two of grueling labor. So when Kiba approached the office shortly after five, I couldn't help but wonder what the guy was still doing in the building.

I had long since learned to identify the employees with their particular knocking styles. It amused me that they all had one, and I often wondered if Kakashi had picked up on that, too.

Except for mine, I reasoned with a wry smile. Typically, I had never sought permission to enter the office when I had been on the other side seeking entrance. I just kicked the door in and started yelling.

"It's open," I called out in an even tone.

Permission granted, the door blew open and in swaggered Kiba, clearly in high spirits. He brought his hand to his chest, buffing his nails against his blazer. I took his moment of monetary pride as an opportunity to read the next few lines on the page of the document I was reading. After all this time, I had realized why Kakashi often worked and continued to read straight through team meetings and conversations with his employees. If he hadn't, it wouldn't have gotten done. As director, there was seldom a "good time" to execute tasks without working more hours than happened to exist in a given day. There were simply moments that were more opportune than others.

He strolled up to my desk, clearing his throat. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I tucked the pen behind my ear and forced myself to look him in the eyes despite the inconvenience of having to take my attention from the paper in front of me.

"Yes?"

"So, I just wanted to check to make sure I'm all set to go. No loose ends, I mean. 'Cause you know, I'd hate to get a call from ya while I'm in Canada—"

"Right. You're on vacation tomorrow."

I bit down on my tongue in frustration, having forgotten that today had been Kiba's last day before his two week vacation out of the country, as he had a plane to catch early tomorrow morning. Dropping my gaze back to the paperwork on my desk, I reached for my water, taking a long drink from the bottle as I choked down Miyune's scream directed at him that itched at the back of my throat in my irritation.

This inconvenience would mean I'd be at the office until ten every night picking up the extra weight left behind in his wake, but it wasn't like I could just say "no" to him. Eventually, he would need to take his vacation anyway. I wheeled my chair over slightly to better reach my keyboard, and began composing an email to Kakashi. The sooner we could get that new doctor started here, the better. They still needed to be interviewed by me before they could start, and Kiba was leaving. Had I known that Kakashi had actually found a doctor he was fond of, I would have checked with Kiba to see if pushing his vacation back a few weeks was an option.

"Just make sure you've followed up with your usual patients, so they know you won't be in town to see them for two weeks. Check in with the hospital, too, so they know not to expect you."

"Done and done. I've already sent Hinata an email including times and dates of patients that can't be deferred weekly. All the patients I could reschedule to see today have already been attended to."

"Forward that email to me," I instructed, pulling the pen out from behind my ear once again as I sent the email to Kakashi. "Then you're good to go. So all three of us stay on the same page, you ought to know by now to CC me into the emails you two exchange."

"Yeah, I forgot," Kiba grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll do that now."

I ignored his nonchalance concerning his blunder as he slipped back out of the office, leaving the door ajar. With a sigh I glanced at the digital clock in the bottom right of my computer.

5:21.

Like Kakashi before me, it was usually after six-thirty before I got around to leaving and locking up the office. The next two weeks looked like it might be more like eight or nine before I left. That thought firmly in mind, I considered using Kiba's leave of absence as an excuse to take a more permanent rain check on dinner with Kankuro and Gaara.

No, I rationalized quickly. Kakashi would never let me live after such a trespass.

Ah, well. Not like I did anything else with my life but work, anyway.

Pushing off from the desk, I jumped from my chair and moved to stand in the doorway. From there, I leaned against the frame, arms folded across my desk, watching as Kiba and Hinata packed up their belongings. Shikamaru was already gone out for the day; he was never one willing to stay late unless absolutely necessary. With a farewell shout, Kiba called out to Hinata, biding her good luck in the days to come without him. She smiled, nodding as she softly thanked him before pulling the strap of her purse over her shoulder. As Kiba left, Hinata turned to me, her former smile quickly fading.

"Um… Miyune? Aren't you… leaving, too?"

"No," I admitted, pushing myself off from the doorframe and preparing to edge back into the office.

"Would you… like help finishing any, um… last minute… tasks? So you can leave, I mean?"

The painstaking slowness in which she spoke had often grated on my nerves when she had first started back almost three years ago. It was one of the many things I'd been forced to acclimate to over the past two and a half years.

"Not necessary, but thank you."

Again she nodded, her gaze dropping to her toes as she bade me goodbye. I watched her leave in silence.

I stood for a brief moment, listening to the sound of the wall clock ticking.

5:29.

In an hour, I would need to be arriving at Kankuro's home. I planned to leave directly from work and follow the directions included in a text from my host. In an hour, I would look Kankuro in the eyes after avoiding him for nearly two years. And in one hour, I would also have to stand face to face with Gaara, who had long since written me off and had since improved upon his former mental condition.

But the reassurance of the stability of Gaara's sanity did little to comfort me.

Seating myself back at my desk, the next half hour slipped through my fingers. I considered being "fashionably late", but prudence had always been an unfortunate habit of mine.

"Just an hour or so. We'll eat, swapping mindless banter over dinner, chat about the weather and television for a solid fifteen minutes, and then I'll dismiss myself."

It was with that hopeful reassurance that I finally brought myself to my feet and began to pack away my belongings, Miyune all the while shaking her head at me, informing me that this was a terrible life decision.

I hated how right I knew she was.

Though I'd only ever been to Kankuro's place once before several years ago, I surprised myself with how easily I found it once again, even with the directions he had given me. Then again, I suppose that right in the heart of downtown Tokyo, a residential house as large as his was difficult to miss.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and exited my car.

The entire walk up the driveway seemed insanely long. Upon glancing back to my vehicle, I'd moved probably ten feet in all actuality. Returning to the task at hand, the front door ahead blew open, and a vaguely familiar fern green-haired woman danced out with a glass flute. She was donned in a black tailcoat, necktie and pinstripe pants, looking every part of a true butler, even if her demeanor betrayed her.

"Miss Agnusdei! Kankuro has been expecting you! Here, take this!"

She thrust the alcohol into my hands, spinning out of the way to permit my entrance.

"C'mon in! Oh, and here, let me take your jacket for you!"

Ushering me inside, she shut the door behind me, sealing my fate. Against my better judgment, I shed my jacket and forfeited the clothing over to the excitable girl.

"Ooooh, nice skirt! It's so pretty. Definitely a spinner, isn't it?"

"… Spinner?" I echoed in confusion.

"You know, like, the skirt. It fans out when you spin, and stuff. I can tell. Bet it's all flowy-like when you walk."

The woman fluttered her hands around at her thighs, and it took me a second to realize that she was trying to mimic the "flowy-like" nature of my skirt. More than anything, however, she looked like a fish, especially as she began to pucker her lips and twirl. To humor her, I forced a small smile, shuffling further into the foyer… and away from her.

"Thank you. And yes, it is actually quite the, ah, spinner."

She didn't need to know that a year ago, when I finally caved and went skirt shopping, that the "flowy-like" quality of the skirts- what I had internally called the "twirl factor"- was actually a decisive quality I had mentally made of all my skirts. No spin, no sale.

The woman beamed at me with pleasure when I assented to her opinion. "Yeah, those are the best, don't you think, miss?"

"Agreed."

"Ya know, I'd totes wear spinners around here if Kankuro-san let me. But no, it's unprofessional of my position, he says. Distracts the guests he gets, he says."

Turning her thumb upside down, Genki-girl blew a raspberry at the ceiling.

"Boo, I say. No fun he is, sometimes."

"Best not let him hear you say that, Shippo." A woman's cool rebuke sounded from behind me.

Instantly, I watched as the green-haired girl stiffened for a moment, a look of shock mixed with fear flickering in her eyes, before standing at attention with impeccable posture, my jacket folded over one of her arms. She moved the other limb behind her back, bent at a 90-degree angle.

"Miss Temari. My apologies, ma'am, I've been negligent. Shall I get you more wine, or perhaps some tea?"

I blinked, the sudden change in the butler's, Shippo's, instantaneous shift in personality as Temari entered the scene nearly giving me whiplash. Even the butler's tone in which she spoke had changed at the drop of a hat.

"No. You can brew more tea for Gaara, however. He finished his ten minutes ago, while you were off mocking your employer to his company."

"Yes ma'am."

Shippo ignored Temari's jab about her slacking off, turned on heel and vanished down the hall, to where I could only assume was the kitchen.

"That… was so weird."

"Well… I haven't seen you in a while. Honestly, I'm surprised you even showed up here."

I had been so distracted by the unexpected emergence of Shippo's alternate personality that I'd entirely paid no mind to the name that she'd dropped.

Temari.

"Here we go."

My back still to her, I willed the same polite smile I'd given Shippo to resurface before turning to face her. My memory of the woman had done her little justice. I remembered that she'd been beautiful, but the past two and a half years had been kind to her indeed. She seemed positively glowing. The dark blue cocktail dress she donned served to only flatter her figure even more. Even the sly way her eyes narrowed at me in suspicion did little to upset the fact that she was gorgeous.

"Temari, hello. Kankuro mentioned that you had recently returned from Portugal. Welcome back."

Her lips twitched, the corners of her mouth curving into a frown as if my welcome displeased her. After a beat of silence, she instead chose to stiffly say,

"Thank you."

Just as I'd thought, I wasn't welcome here. At least she was being civil. But then again, I don't suppose she had any other choice, given it was either play nice or cause a scene in your little brother's house.

Time and time again, I already knew that she would always choose to appeal to the family.

"My pleasure," I murmured, trying to cover up the sudden dejection I felt, anticipated as it was.

Temari held my gaze for a moment before turning and pointing to the room just beyond her.

"Kankuro and Gaara are there. I'm sure they would like to know you've arrived."

"You won't be joining us?"

Again her lips twitched in irritation, as if she were moments away from verbally smacking me in the mouth. Perhaps I should have just let her go. Miyune bristled inside, hissing at the standoffish woman.

"I have plans," She responded briskly, and I was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

She didn't wait for my reply as she left me alone in the foyer, already making her way towards the front door, murmuring to herself something about a 'flighty butler'. I paid no mind to the jab at the hired help, not caring nearly enough about the green-haired girl to challenge Temari on her opinions of her brother's home assistance.

I watched her vanish from sight, running a hand through my short crop of hair as I once again had to take a moment to compose myself for the debacle that was sure to ensue. Relieved as I was that Temari wasn't going to be with us tonight, it brought me only a mild comfort. Her brothers would undoubtedly be more than enough for me to handle.

"It won't be so bad," a kindly voice comforted me. "We can just spend a half an hour or so here. Just long enough for some polite conversation, and then we'll be back on our way again."

Carefully, I wrung my hands behind my back and released the breath I hadn't been aware I'd been holding. Shippo made her reappearance, the heels of her shoes announcing her presence. A tea kettle in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, she walked briskly past me without a second glance in my direction. With her entrance I took my chance, quickly falling into step behind her.

"Kankuro, sir. I brought you Chardonnay."

Kankuro held out his glass without a single acknowledging glance to her as he continued his conversation with a tall, tanned man I vaguely recognized from somewhere, but his identity escaped me. Shippo didn't seem to mind much, as she quickly refilled her employer's glass before moving along.

"Another black tea for you, Gaara, sir?"

Unlike his elder brother, Gaara was not as engaged in conversation. He stood leaning against the wall to my right, arms folded across his chest, a mere spectator to his sibling's conversation. I realized in that moment, much to my chagrin, that these past two years had not decided to be only kind to the eldest Hisuna. Gaara, too, was positively radiant. The thin line of his lips seemed a bit fuller now, as they were not constantly pinched in a scowl or grimace. His features had broadened slightly and he had allowed his hair to grow out a bit to brush his shoulders, but those were the more obvious differences in him. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something else about him seemed… to have changed. The way he observed the men and even Shippo with a soft gaze was different than the malicious glare or the mask of indifference I had once grown so accustomed to. In fact, he seemed quite at ease. Calm. Neither were characteristics I would have pegged to describe Gaara.

At Shippo's query, however, he silently pushed off from his perch on the wall and retrieved his cup. For a fleeting second, I contemplated edging around Shippo and using her as a human shield to hide me from the redhead's sight, but then Gaara's gaze lifted. Our eyes met, and my chances of a quiet escape slipped through my fingers like smoke. His eyes bored into my own with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. He failed to even notice or acknowledge the butler as she took the cup from his loose fingers. To my relief, it was neither disgust nor anger that was held in his eyes. Rather, there seemed to be an element of shock to his expression.

"… Miyune."

With a simper, I merely lifted my hand and fluttered my fingers in his direction. He opened his mouth to speak, when a large hand clapped itself on my shoulder. I jumped, quickly turning to weasel out from the hold of the hand's owner.

"Glad you could make it. You find the place okay?"

I nodded, and in response the corners of his lips quirked in a lopsided smile. Kankuro had always been taller than I was, but suddenly he seemed to tower over me. His stare seemed almost conflicted yet warm, as if he was trying to somehow comfort me, but wasn't sure if he wanted to be such a comfort. The tanned man excused himself, and the Hisuna brothers quietly bid him a good evening.

"… Shippo gave you the good stuff. Drink up."

Kankuro tapped the bottom of the flute in my hands, and I quickly countered by setting the glass down on the nearest surface.

"No thank you. I don't drink alcohol often."

"Often?"

"It's a taste thing… I don't like the taste of alcohol. I drink it in kombucha on occasion, but that's about it."

"That's unfortunate," He murmured, offering his wine glass an apologetic glance before taking a swig. I chuckled, shaking my head as Kankuro waved to his butler. "Shippo. Hook Miyune up with a black tea. And load that sucker up with sugar."

"Yes, sir."

"You remembered my sweet tooth," I note with a coy grin. "I'm flattered."

"I'm sorry, we're fresh out of chocolate milk," Kankuro droned sarcastically, though he rolled his eyes playfully.

With a wry smile, I nodded, letting the subject drop. I could still remember Kakashi reprimanding me for drinking the beverage. Over time, I had put into practice stowing that habit, too. Like an addict, I still had urges that begged me to relent, but I chose time and time again to deny myself another "luxury" of my personality.

"You're different."

A third voice joined our conversation, its deep tone causing me to stiffen. I smiled forcefully, turning to Gaara, who had crossed the divide to accompany Kankuro and me.

You're one to talk, scoffed a crude voice in my head.

"So are you."

He was quiet a moment, his eyes fixed on me as a frown crossed his face. All the shock he'd exhibited earlier had vanished, and now it appeared he disapproved of me. For some reason, that thought sent a ripple of sadness through my heart. There was no reason his disapproval of me should come as a shock. I'd known long ago that Gaara didn't like me. I forced myself to give my attentions back to Kankuro, the sight of the redhead a painful one to bear. Again I donned the same tense, forced smile. With the mask of civility behind which I hid myself firmly in place, I struck up small talk about his movies and inconsistencies of the weather lately. The shallow conversation we exchanged was not unlike that which I had with everyone else. No one truly knew who I was anymore. No one cared to pry.

Why did we come here again? The same voice whined.

The softer voice from earlier shushed her, reminding us that, "This is an overcoming moment for us." Suddenly, Kankuro and I's exchange of our mutual distaste of winter was cut short by the younger of the Hisuna brothers.

"I liked it longer."

"What?"

Despite my better judgment, I turned back in my surprise to face Gaara. Again our eyes locked, and the old wound I thought had long since healed opened once more as a fresh jolt of pain coursed through my chest. His eyes flickered up to my head, taking in the sight of an old haircut that was news to him.

"You'd be the first to admit as much."

His eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. Breaking away from his intense gaze, I once again turned my attentions to Kankuro.

"Yeah, she whacked it all off almost three years ago," He explained to Gaara. "I about had a stroke when she came in the studio one day with no hair."

"It's hardly nonexistent," I reasoned with a forced chuckle.

"Dinner, lady and gentlemen, is almost served! Please prepare your appetites," Shippo announced as she re-entered the room, pushing open the door. She handed me a cup of steaming tea, resting on a tiny saucer, before vanishing again.

"Sweet!" Kankuro patted his stomach, a wide grin on his face. "Good timing, too. I'm hungry enough to eat a whole damn horse. Oh, can't let this go to waste."

He swept the flute Shippo had given to me off the table in which I'd abandoned it and tapped Gaara's chest with it.

"You finish it."

With a nod, Gaara took the glass and sipped obediently. His eyes found mine again, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think I saw the ghost of a smile cross his lips.

Not one of twisted sadism or manic pleasure, but a normal, human smile.

A shiver coursed down my spine at the almost tender look he gave me, and the kind gesture of his smile.

"Do you like duck?" He questioned softly when I didn't recoil from his gaze this time.

"It's alright. I haven't eaten it for a while."

Gaara motioned for me to follow him into another room, where Kankuro was already headed.

"Shippo is making grilled duck in a plum red wine reduction sauce with basil and mango rice, and salted tongue."

He turned to face me again as his tongue flicked over his mouth, and this time the gesture was unmistakable as his lips curved up in an almost timid smile. In an instant, my heart was lodged in my throat in shock.

"Fancy… Odd… side to have. Salted tongue," I managed to sputter.

"She was going to make sashimi as a side dish. I asked for salted tongue instead."

"I thought we'd eat in here," Kankuro called over his shoulder as he led Gaara and me into a smaller room. "It's a bit cozier in here. Not as big as the dining room."

There was a fire already crackling in the fireplace, and a small chandelier hung overhead a round bistro table just big enough to seat four. At its center had been placed a small glass vase filled with tiger lilies and hyacinths. The table had already been set with three glasses of water and eating utensils. A loveseat sat against the far wall. The mahogany paneling of the walls reflected the light given off by the fire and gave the already quaint space an additional charming feel.

"Sit wherever. Food should be here soon."

Before I could move to choose my own seat, Gaara and Kankuro claimed the seats across from one another, pinning me between the two of them regardless of which chair I picked. With pursed lips, I sat down where the remaining glass of water was.

I had anticipated that the two brothers would waste little time launching into their interrogation of me. With the pleasantries of our initial greeting aside, I was prepared to endure the worst the two men could dish out. Or, at the very least, I had assumed that they would drill me with questions demanding why I'd avoided Kankuro as diligently as I had. Instead, the two engaged in small talk of Gaara's apartment and acquiring a couch Kankuro owned that Gaara clearly had his sights set on.

"You told me nearly a year ago that I could have it," the red head grumbled.

His bottom lip popped out slightly as he crossed his arms stubbornly against his chest and began to sulk. At his distress, Kankuro laughed.

"I've had that hunk of junk since I moved into a place of my own years ago. That's the only piece of original furniture I still have from when I first moved out of dad's house. Even then, it wasn't new. It's trash, Gaara."

"It's comfortable. I like it."

"You can find something else way nicer."

"Not for free. Besides, I want that couch. If I wanted a new one, I would have bought one already."

"You're ridiculous," Kankuro snorted, raising his water cup to his lips.

I could only sit in wonder as I witnessed the exchange between the two of them. The elder brother who had once professed his belief that there was no "saving" Gaara, that he was "psychotic" and "crazy", now sat teasing the younger in such a lighthearted manner as they shared a meal together. And Gaara, in all his instability was now so calm and collected, even going as far to grant me the pleasure of seeing two genuine smiles grace his once so angry, troubled face.

The irony of how our roles had so reversed was not lost on me. Only now, there was no one to come looking to rescue me from my own personal darkness. There was no one who even knew there was a woman who was lost. Even if those closest to me knew my pain, I doubt they'd go out on a limb to share my sorrow. In my life before, when I was a more honest person, my company was highly undesirable, and never really sought.

No. There was no one to come looking for me.

Such thoughts tossed around in my head as Shippo brought us dinner. My plate was set before me, and I ate in silence as the topics flitted from subject to subject. My heart, laden with dark thoughts, felt heavy in my chest. I remained removed from the conversation, pondering my own misfortune and the paradox of Gaara and Kankuro's sudden improvement in relationship as the evening wore on.

"That movie sucked ass."

"I thought it was well done," Gaara defended his preference firmly. "It was clever and witty."

"It was too cliché, and not accurate to true history. Solely from an entertainment standpoint, yeah, maybe I can see its merit, but I can't see past the glaring plot holes in contrast with, ya'know, real history."

Gaara shrugged as he lifted a piece of salted tongue to his lips. He hummed in appreciation towards the food as he chewed.

"Doesn't change my opinion."

"Sorry I couldn't dissuade you from your ignorance," Kankuro lamented playfully.

The red head rolled his eyes with a smirk, then turned to me.

"Have you seen any good movies lately?"

I was taken aback by the sudden question, not expecting to have been addressed. I looked up and blinked, two pairs of curious eyes trained on me and awaiting a response.

Truth be told, I had not. Lately, I had nurtured an affection for the classics. Scarface, Citizen Kane, The Godfather, Casablanca, The Wizard of Oz, Singin' in the Rain, A Hard Day's Night. All movies that had brought me up with a love of television early on in life.

"… No."

My answer given, I again tilted my head downward toward my plate. Conversation did not resume as before between the brothers. I cringed, bracing myself for the worst.

"…Is the food good?" Gaara tried again.

Again I lifted my head to find both brothers staring at me.

"Excellent," I replied vaguely. After a moment of deliberation, I added, "Shippo did a good job."

"She always does," Kankuro boasted proudly. "She's good at more than cooking, too. Shippo's great with guests, even if she is a bit airheaded sometimes. Her hospitality is top-notch, and she will at times play piano for dinner parties and such."

After singing the praises of his household help, we again found ourselves sitting awkwardly in silence.

"Are you feeling well, Miyune?"

Gaara's question caught me off guard once more, and I was slow to compose myself to respond.

"I feel… fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're very quiet tonight."

I thought back on the many times in the past two years alone in which someone had noted I was quiet. Reservation had never been a character trait of mine in the past, but lately, I suppose that in an effort to suppress the things and thoughts in my head that no one else wanted to hear, I had indeed become 'quieter'. Elaborating upon the reason for my shift in character to the men before me now was entirely unrelated, and would undoubtedly bring up conversation I was not willing to participate in.

"I apologize," I replied stoically, sobering my tone in an attempt to quickly kill all the emotions whirling in my person. I began to concern myself greatly with the cutting of the duck on my plate. "Work has been difficult as of late, and I'm distracted. I am sorry if my preoccupation has inconvenienced either of you."

"N-no need to apologize," Kankuro insisted quickly as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly thrown off by my sudden apology. "You're just real quiet. It's not like you to be quiet."

I nodded as I ate, quickly resolving to be more intentional in any upcoming conversations. Total removal from conversation, especially in a group as small as this, was a rookie social mistake I never should have made. My silence did not actually remove me from conversation, but had made me the center of it as both men attempted to poke and prod in an effort to get me to speak.

"Why has work been difficult for you?" Gaara ventured, his tone unusually gentle.

I wasn't used to being spoken to like this. Furrowing my brow, I dared to look up to return his concerned gaze. His teal eyes were as shocking as they had ever been, rimmed with dark circles of black and purple that told stories of his lack of sleep. However, they no longer betrayed his violent intent, nor harbored an intense hatred. Instead, an emotion of care and concern I hadn't seen directed towards me in a very long time swirled in his eyes.

Suddenly, I recalled a memory of my mother. She reached for me, stroking my hair as the same expression filled her eyes.

"Now I don't care how hard they saw this exam is going to be, dear. You look so tired, Miyune. Make sure you get enough sleep, okay, sweetheart?"

My heart pounded violently in my chest at the memory, and I bowed my head once more to avoid the expression that haunted me. I cleared my throat before I spoke, lest my cracking voice betray me.

"I was promoted to director of our facility in Kakashi's place, and he was relocated to the main branch. Adapting to the position was challenging, as there was no doctor to take my position. I still haven't received anyone to fill the gap, and now Kiba is going to be on vacation for the next two weeks. So Hinata will be the only doctor available in the entire building. There was talk of receiving a temp to cover Kiba's absence… but it remained an unverified rumor. There is always a lot of work on my plate, and now there's going to be even more in the weeks to come."

"Aw, c'mon," Kankuro groaned. I glanced up at him, and he gave me a grin and a playful roll of his eyes. "I invite you here for dinner to chill and get out of work-mode for a bit, and you come here sweating over your work. I swear, you never get work off the brain."

I force a smile at his humor, unable to refute his point or even defend myself. For good reason I buried myself in work. Without it, my life would have no meaning. I didn't have the luxury of friends, or even siblings like he had. Take away my job, and I have nothing left. So of course work was a constant on my mind.

But to him, that was a negative. Again, I pitied my station in life. With a glance at my wristwatch, I noticed that I had survived until nearly eight p.m. For all intents and purposes, this evening had been entirely a success. And now, I could leave and never see the faces of these two men again. My resistance to my broadening smile was almost nonexistent.

"Yes, well… I have little else to occupy my time other than work, so I suppose it is befitting." I wiped my mouth with a napkin, then rose to my feet. "Thank you so much for dinner, gentlemen, but I should be going."

"I'll walk you to your car," Gaara declared suddenly, jumping to his feet.

"Not necessary, thank you. I'm sure I can show myself out."

"This way," Gaara persisted, opening the door to the parlor, as if he'd never heard my refusal.

Clenching my jaw, I acquiesced. Kankuro bid me a good night and an ominous "see ya later" before vanishing into the depths of his home.

Gaara located Shippo to retrieve my jacket. I stared at his profile as he spoke with her, thanking her for dinner and "all her hard work". She flushed pink, dismissing his praise with a wave of her hand.

He had become such a gentleman in the past couple years, refined in speech and mannerisms. Nothing like the man he was before.

"Was all this… the influence of Lee and Naruto?"

Shippo left to fetch my coat, and I was suddenly aware of my predicament as Gaara's stare zeroed in on me. In a moment, his expression turned from gentle into stern. I scarcely had time to brace myself against him.

"Why have you done this to yourself?"

I deadpanned, stunned by his sudden question. A million defensive retorts and potential denials tossed around in my brain. At that moment in time, I couldn't bring myself to verbalize a single one.

When he realized I had no intention of answering him, he frowned, and tried another tactic.

"There is no need to hide from me. I don't want you to hide."

"I am not hiding," I lied coolly. "A lot of time has passed since we last met. I have changed since then. So have you."

"You are right to say that I have changed." Though his tone remained kind, it suddenly became very firm, leaving no room for arguing. "You, on the other hand, are simply hiding. Rather than genuine change, you hide and you lie. But you are not fooling me with this charade of yours. Remember, I am familiar with pain. I know when someone feels it. I don't like that you see fit to harm yourself in this way."

In that moment, I felt the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. The real Miyune I kept buried deep inside clawed to resurface and defend our honor.

"Don't speak as if you empathize with me," I retorted angrily, my voice quaking with a sudden, barely contained rage. Struggling to keep my voice even, I added, "You can't even begin to have any right to speak to me on what it is to hide."

Instead of retaliating in anger and offense as I had expected, I watched as Gaara's eyes lit up with excitement and glee.

"See? That was the real Miyune," He declared, jabbing his index finger in my direction. "For the first time tonight, you've shown your real personality. Not the polite cordiality you feign, but the real you."

The ever-present rage of the real Miyune bristled at his remark, gnashing her teeth at his blunt accusation.

"What do you know of me?" I demanded. "You do not know me. You never even tried."

"I know that this entire night, your eyes have been so empty and dead."

His words kept my loosening tongue in check. My fury flickered as he spoke, and I was unable once more even to raise my voice against him.

"You spoke with kindness and courtesy, but I don't believe for a moment any of that was really you. As I said, I know pain when I see it. And you are someone who is in pain. But just now, when you yelled at me… I saw fire in your eyes again. Tell me, when was the last time you allowed someone to see the real you?"

With pursed lips, I shook my head vehemently and took a step away from Gaara. I felt Miyune's anger wane, eclipsed by sorrow at the truth of his words.

"Dead. She's dead. And everyone is thankful for it."

Gaara had touched a nerve no one had dared come near in three years. I insisted that I had changed, and so did everyone else. Even if they weren't convinced of my miraculous shift into civility, they didn't question it. They merely accepted it, and were grateful for my decision. Even Kakashi, who I had once counted as my only confidante, said nothing in opposition. I had often wondered, did he know it was an act? That I had never actually changed, but had, as Gaara phrased it, "hidden"? Did he even care to know? The man wasn't an idiot.

But here was Gaara, and after seeing him for the first time in nearly three years, he seemed to read me like an open book. He knew my life was a total lie.

I didn't want to yell at him anymore, especially as the look of pity crossed his face. I simply wanted to cry.

Shippo returned with my jacket folded over one of her arms. I took it from her as fast as I could get my body to move, and fled out of the door without a word of thanks.

Gaara did not try to chase me down. Of course he did not. He was Gaara— composed, collected, serious Gaara. He did, however, call out to me from the doorway.

"I'll see you again soon, Miyune. I hope you'll be a bit more honest with yourself and me then."

I slammed my car door behind me as I slid the key into the ignition, my hands trembling.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm, steady breaths.

And this was me, now, too. Composed, collected, serious Miyune. Or, at least, this is who I must pretend to have become.

"I've worked far too hard to maintain this mask to allow it to come crumbling apart after one evening with Gaara."

"And I hope you're not a betting man."