Hospital Visit

...

Gaara lay still - straight and stiff like a corpse: arms stuck to his sides, back perfectly straight and clear eyes, burning with heat and bottomless like the sea at the coast of Suna on a boiling summer's day, were still wide open and staring. To put it frankly, it was kind of creepy.

"You have to relax, Kazekage-sama." Sakura said, voice edged with irritation.

His eyes swivelled to fix on her face instead of the cotton canopy above him - the bland look in them shifted slightly and she felt the change in his gaze like the slightest vibration passing through the top of her head to the tip of her toes. A moment of cool, clinical silence passed between them before Sakura sighed and looked back down at the clipboard that she could barely see in the muggy darkness of the room. His eyes glinted like a cat's in the faint gleaming moonlight coming through the windows.

At a loss for anything better to do, Sakura turned to stare out into the night instead of engage in another pointless staring conversation with the stoic man lying just metres from her.

The full moon shone bright, full and ripe - like a great silver apple ready to fall - behind the thin slits of his many windows. Windows were a rare commodity in Suna - impractical because of the sweeping, sand filled winds and the sweltering heat. The only reason Gaara had so many was because of his status as Kazekage - a title imbued with his need to see his people, to watch over them, and because he could clear the sand from them with barely a thought.

The actual bedroom in his home was several floors below, in the cool catacombs of the sandy earth to better escape from the heat. She had been in it a few times with him over the past few weeks, but not in any pleasant context. That had simmered out the moment they left that hospital room after that fated day. For some reason, Gaara had shut tightly - covering himself behind an iron wall that none of her attacks seemed to even dent. She didn't even know why.

Twirling the pen in her nimble fingers, she felt his razor sharp attention slip away like an ebbing tide. Temari had said something about the full moon being a time of restlessness for him, and the way she had said it - paling slightly beneath her tan, dark eyes hardening into small, hard pebbles, full lips twisting a fraction - had made Sakura wary. There was very little that could make the tough sand kunoichi show the faintest hint of trepidation.

But as far as she could tell Gaara was as cool and composed as ever.

Her mind cast back to the nights she had spent with him in his actual bedroom. A small, surprisingly humble abode decorated with sparsely with the odd piece of wooden furniture, delicate glass figurines, several decorative scrolls and a large, twisted pink and cream shell propped up on one shelf. Sakura remembered standing with her back to him - tracing along the smooth lines of the glass figure with the pad of her fingertip. It wasn't something she had ever imagined he would like.

A hot moist breath had washed across the back of her exposed neck, making the hairs on her arm rise up to press against her sleeves. She hadn't reacted - instead had just turned around to face him - wide staring eyes, nostrils flaring.

Go back to bed, she had murmured.

When Gaara got like this responding with fear or anger only made him worse. She had reached out to lightly touch his clenched fist - knuckles white and bulging - and his teeth had clicked together in a way that almost made her jump.

It will get easier, Sakura had said.

And she didn't know if it would. She didn't know if he would ever get a full undisturbed night's sleep. Then, half an hour later he had clawed himself free of the sheets with a tiny drip of clear, shiny saliva coating his chin, breathing harsh and ragged and his eyes straining against the darkness. He had scratched her from her elbows to the tender inside of her wrist in long, jagged lines when she moved to hold him down.

The insignificant, smarting pain from those superficial wounds was nothing compared to the crushing fear she felt when he had flipped her over and the vice grip of sand had crawled up her skin - scraping her skin in stinging trails that left blood dotted at the surface like tiny scattered beads. Reacting with fear might mean death - Sakura had lain still beneath him until the fierce, terrifying glow behind his eyes had dimmed to bank coals of anger.

It's alright, she said, voice cracking despite herself.

The sand had receded bit by bit until it was just Gaara around her - still breathing harshly, holding her like she was some kind of life preserver and staring into her eyes despite how she tried not to meet his gaze. Then, he had snapped his eyes shut and rolled off of her, muttering as he went - I loathe it under here.

Sakura had wanted to press him then. She had stored thoughts of her attraction deep down, along with the still smarting sting of rejection. She told herself that she wanted to find out what he meant because then she might be able to figure out what was bothering him and help him sleep, not because she cared in any personal way whatsoever. The moment passed, stretched taunt and thin and then he spoke just as Sakura opened her mouth.

When Gaara had composed himself a little more told her about the delicate figurines and how it was actually him that made them - something to distract himself during long nights when there was nothing else to do. Sand was, after all, the main component of glass. Gaara gave her that information without meeting her eyes; Sakura was sure it was his way of apologising for hurting her, or maybe his way of trying to distract her from what he had said before that.

After that event, Sakura had spent a lot of her time thinking about 'under here'. She watched the slight, near imperceptible, shadow that passed over his eyes - like a bird flitting over the sun - when he moved anywhere underground, the tense snap of his teeth when she shut the door to his bedroom, the wary way he looked side to side when he thought she wasn't watching when they walked through the deep trenches that riddled the rock around Suna...

It took a few more nights, a few more far too close calls with his temper, before Sakura finally called him on it. As far as she could tell he hated it down in his bedroom, so she asked him why he kept stubbornly going back when he could easily move his bed a few floors up. Her only answer had been a dull, flat, predatory stare. That night had been particularly bad - he had fallen asleep twice, but had shattered most of the glass figurines upon waking the second time, causing a deadly hurricane of tiny glittering shards that had near sliced her to pieces before she could get to him.

The bed had been moved, with no words exchanged between them, the next day.

But, she saw none of that now - no shaking, no tension, no clenched teeth... Gaara would have almost seemed relaxed if it wasn't for the unnatural stillness radiating from him tinged with something like malevolence. It almost seemed like he was waiting for something. That thought didn't sit well with her.

"Relax," she hissed, letting the annoyance colour her tone entirely, "do you want me to make you some calming tea?"

"It tastes like piss," he grunted, finally responding.

His eyes had moved to follow her again - it made her feel slightly nervous tonight, something she thought she had gotten over long ago. The simmering feelings of hurt and resentment prickled through her skin as she looked at him lying there - red hair tousled and attractive, expression as peaceful as his could get.

"But do you want some?" It was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. Her own lack of sleep was making her more scathing than normal.

Gaara turned to his entire head to face her then - gleaming eyes reflecting the moon fully. His pupils were so wide they almost swallowed the colour in his eyes entirely, making the pale reflection of the moon stand out even more starkly. The narrowing of his eyes and the line of tension that appeared between them was enough of an answer.

"Do you want me to give you a massage?" She asked instead.

He didn't seem to like her touching him anymore. He liked it all too well the other time, Inner Sakura interjected, pout easily heard on her voice. Gaara gave the slightest jerk of his head that meant a negative and finally closed his unnerving eyes.

"Should I open the windows?" Sakura was determined to do something - they had been stuck at a stalemate for weeks now and it had to end.

"Sand will get in." He said curtly, eyes opening again - flashes of white teeth beginning to show.

"Which you can keep out," She answered, even more snappily.

Sakura stood, agitated, and smoothed out the creases that had formed on her crisp, white medics' outfit, before moving over to stand by his bed. It felt strange to look down at him from such a height, but at that angle he looked deceptively unthreatening. The dark circles smeared around his eyes were even more pronounced than they had been before - something she hadn't even thought was possible. Her being close seemed to agitate him yet more, but Sakura ignored that and began to gather healing chakra into her fingertips.

Gaara snapped into a sitting position the moment she began to touch her fingers to his temples to ease the headaches he suffered from so often- hands ready to strike out, sand gathering around him, eyes wide, predatory and startlingly inhuman.

"I don't want you here," he half roared," I don't want you near me at all."

She recoiled, back hitting the wood of the door with a resounding thud. His chakra swelled to fill the room - pupils pinpoints of rage, hands clenched so tightly in his sheets that the fabric was creaking alarmingly in protest. It only took a moment for a wave of fury to crest over the startled fear and make her bear her teeth back at him, despite her own knowledge that reacting to his anger with more anger only meant trouble.

"Fine," Sakura hissed, slamming the door behind her with enough force to send spider web cracks shooting off across the wall and make the handle snap off into her fist.

She paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, before putting her head in her hands. Anger, mixed with bitter sadness, boiled up white hot and furious and she knew he would be able to feel it - that and her roiling, spiking chakra swelling to fill the space around her. After a quiet second, she marched off in the direction of the stairs before descending quickly, not bothering to disguise the angry thuds her feet made on the narrow stairs.

Obviously, she had blown what had happened between them entirely out of proportion - that sweet, promising-more-to-come kiss was probably just a distraction to him. Have a medic throw herself all over you to help ease down that nasty medicine, Kazekage-sama. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she frowned - closing her eyes against the sting of tears that were threatening to appear. A good night's sleep would help; it wasn't as though she had one in what felt like forever.

The cool corridor that lead to both of their bedrooms was cloaked in darkness that was so thick, Sakura couldn't have seen her hand if she had pressed it so close to her face that it touched her nose. Something told her that he was following her. She couldn't bring herself to care. The moment her hand touched the door to her room she felt a slight breeze sweep across her skin.

Sakura froze - knowing that Gaara was standing very close to her. She couldn't hear him, or see him, but she knew.

A cool hand grasped the wrist that was outstretched to grasp the door handle tightly.

He paused, entire body wracked with tremors that made an alarm bell go off deep in the recesses of her mind as they reverberated through her. A slight crack snapped through the silence - like metal being struck against metal - before the entire glass covering of a nearby picture shattered into a dust of gleaming particles. The dry slithering hiss - like the arid rustling of snake scales - filled the tiny passage between them as the sand began to gather in twisting tendrils.

The glowing chakra that swelled to coat her fist shed enough light for her to see him clutching the side of his head with his other hand - features crumpled in what was probably pain. A heartbeat after that her back was pressed firmly against the door and his entire body was pressed to hers - rock hard, immovable.

"You said his name in your sleep," Gaara rasped thickly, tone accusatory.

"Who's?" She asked, curiosity winning over all other emotion.

He pressed her even harder into the door until she saw bright stars speckled through the darkness, breathing heavily. Somehow, this wasn't exactly how she had imagined him doing this before. This was not pleasant - not from any viewpoint - even the warmth radiating from him, or the hot, musky smell that had enveloped her couldn't make it seem any better.

"Sasuke." He hissed the name like a poisonous curse.

And in that instant, Sakura knew why he had backed away from her physically and emotionally. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or furious - that he had presumed without even asking her, or that she hadn't actually done anything horrifically wrong.

"Nightmares - I have them a lot. I'm sure you know about that," she said, looking at him pointedly," there is... nothing left between us but that."

Gaara looked like he didn't believe her, but then his mouth slammed against hers with enough force to make the door behind them groan from the pressure. It felt like he was stealing the very breath from her lungs, and she didn't even mind. A calloused hand came up to cup her face as she wound her newly freed hands in the thick strands of his hair, feeling the sand that it was filled with and wondering how she had never noticed before. He seemed to like her rubbing his scalp because she felt a warm rumble of approval move from his chest to hers.

Anticipation shuddered through her body - tingling to the tips of her toes. Sakura found she was still furiously angry and upset with him, but it seemed insignificant when compared to the warmth that flowed from where they touched.

"Idiot," she said sardonically, when he pulled away.

Gaara just pressed his forehead to the door behind her and breathed heavily - hot moist tendrils of his breath washing across her neck and making her shudder. He backed up enough to let her breath unhindered, but they slid slowly to lie in a crumpled undignified heap on the floor by her door when he started talking quickly. She stroked her fingers across his hairline as he ran his hands across the skin of her back exposed by the shifting of her top.

"One of the assassins my father sent to kill me was skilled in Earth jutsu. I was walking, through the passages around Suna, and then the sides collapsed in. If it wasn't for the sand shield..." he trailed off, frowning fiercely at nothing in particular - she could feel the expression against the delicate skin of her throat.

"And now you don't like being underground, "Sakura finished, flicking her tongue across her dry lips before continuing, "I don't like it much either."

She smiled at him, knowing he would hear it in her voice, "Come on. Let's get out of here."

...

...

The stars in Suna were so much more vibrant than the ones back in Konoha. Here the sky was boundless.

They lay beneath a recently made sand shield - safe but still able to see the sky. Several blankets and pillows littered the makeshift den - that word had made Sakura frown at first, but she couldn't think of a better description for it - and they were huddled together in it for protection against the bitter cold of the desert night. Well, Sakura huddled up and Gaara lay with one arm around her and the other propped under his head as he stared stoically out at the sky.

Sakura wasn't sure she had ever felt this peaceful despite the cold air that stung the tip of her nose and her ears. Gaara blinked lazily when she moved closer to him for warmth, but didn't stir to push her away this time.

This is still better than how she had ever dared to imagine it would be, except for one thing," I suppose I should savour the cold - I hate how warm it gets."

"Mhmm," he rumbled, clearly only humouring her," but you had better get used to the heat."

"And why would that be?" she spat back, acidly, juxtaposing the words sharply with the way she stroked the arm wrapped around her waist.

"Because you're staying here with me."

...

...

Sweet sexy succulent Jesus this took forever. No idea why - it just did. Hence the somewhat delicious sounding blaspheme. The lovely, incredibly patient dragonladynine requested that I do a oneshot continuation of my fic Hospital Visit and eventually, fifty million years later, this sprang to life (or slowly crawled to life, really). Since it is a direct continuation, I just decided to shove it in with its parent and be done with it. 'Cause I can.

Thanks for reading,

Silver ~ x