-II-

.Nightmares.

Learning to trust is one of life's most difficult tasks.

-Isaac Watts

Sakura jolted awake at the first strangled cry, a light sleeper due to her training and years of being with an emotionally volatile Gaara. She slid out of bed in one fluid motion, padding quickly and quietly into the red-head's room down the hall – the door never locked by some unspoken agreement between them.

The scene before her, however familiar, still made Sakura hurt on his behalf. The man was thrashing on the bed, whimpering, tangling himself in the sheets – his duvet having been flung clear across the room by his kicking. The thin fabric wound around his legs and torso due to his thrashing only served to restrict his movements, further terrifying his subconscious fear of being trapped, worsening his nightmare. The cherry blossom moved quietly towards the bed, quickly untangling the mess of limbs and sheets with practiced ease, pulling it out of the way as much as she could. She barely dodged a kick to the face, and felt it graze the side of her head painfully. That would bruise, but no matter. Gaara had stopped thrashing once he was no longer entangled, but he was now shivering and breathing hard.

"Don't… don't leave me here! Let… let me out… please!"

Sakura's frame trembled at the piteous, pleading voice that escaped the unconscious man as she sat on the bed, a soothing hand running across his feverish brow and the side of his face as her other hand reached for his. Her gesture was reciprocated with a crushing grip seeking comfort and reassurance. Sakura was pretty sure she heard something crack, but she did not pull away. She couldn't.

"I don't want to sleep! Don't make me sleep – don't – it's all dark – don't –"

"Shhh," she fought not to let her voice crack. "Gaara, it's okay. I'm here. Even if it's dark, I'm here," Sakura tried to squeeze back using her currently crushed hand, hoping he could feel it. Her other hand reached out to smooth his matted red hair away from his forehead, the way she used to comfort Yuki when he was sick with fever. "It's okay. You can sleep. It's okay to fall asleep."

She didn't quite know what made her do it, but the cherry blossom found herself leaning over Gaara's sweat-slicked, pained face to plant a feather-light kiss on his forehead. Dazed by her own boldness, she didn't even realise until moments later how the red-head had calmed instantly, gradually settling down into what she could only hope was dreamless sleep.

His hand still grasped hers tightly, as if holding her to her promise to be there. Quietly contemplative about this possible new facet to their relationship that she'd just discovered, Sakura reached out tentatively with her free hand to pull the bunched sheets over Gaara's sleeping form. Sighing, she tucked her legs under her, leaning against the headboard, and prepared herself for another long night.

N

"Bring the child to me."

Eleven-year-old Sakura perched carefully on the edge of the too-soft leather couch, trying not to let her bewilderment show as the Yondaime Kazekage – the man who had taken her off the streets – gave out orders to several men in crisp suits in his spacious office. She had been brought here after being scrubbed clean by a swarm of uniformed women, tucked into a clean shirt and loose shorts, with her hair raked into obedience – cleaned and smoothed out, the pink was even more eye-catching.

Sakura itched in her own skin. She was too clean, her clothes were too new. This place, several dozen stories above the slums she had grown up in, was too polished, with its sleek furniture and unblemished walls, its smooth-mannered people. She couldn't decide if she should stay, or run. The bed she had been given last night, in the house larger than anything she had ever seen, had been softer than a cloud, but she had felt just as empty lying there as she had sleeping on the streets. There was nothing left for her.

Before she could decide, however, red caught her eye. Dusky, yet intense, red that stood out starkly in this monochromatic world, red that belonged to a pale boy in a white shirt and tweed shorts. The boy had been brought in by a silver-haired man with an eyepatch, and was standing very still before the large, imposing desk that the Kazekage sat behind.

Perhaps it was his stillness that made the Kazekage's eyes gloss over him without acknowledgement. He merely turned his head toward Sakura and motioned her over with a slight nod. Sakura moved, automatically, and somehow found herself facing the boy instead of the Kazekage, staring into dull jade eyes that made her body still and her heart leap. A kindred soul. The Kazekage's voice barely pierced her stupor.

"This is Gaara, and you will be his friend."

It was not until later that Sakura had learnt that Gaara was his son.

N

His temper had been growing increasingly volatile over the past three months. Between the infuriating old geezers, the piles of paperwork he had to wade through to get to his desk, Akatsuki's not making a move and Sakura's increasingly insistent protectiveness, Gaara's patience was stretched dangerously thin. The nightmares were growing more frequent (although they felt shorter than they used to be) –but he would not admit that the threat of Akatsuki was dredging up memories he had long buried under intense training and work, and thought he had overcome.

And Sakura, that infuriating, stubborn, stupidly overprotective woman. He was irritated with her, with the patrol cars surrounding his condominium block, the ANBU guards following him everywhere, as if making a mockery of his capabilities. Yet, through all that irritation, he still noticed that she always seemed tired lately, juggling her duties at the office, protecting him, overseeing recruit training, and then going home to housekeeping and cooking for both of them – refusing to hire external services for fear that Akatsuki might find a way to infiltrate those, too. His annoyed self thought her borderline paranoid but a smaller voice in his head conceded that every decision she made had rational reasons behind it.

That didn't mean he had to acknowledge it though. As Gaara's temper grew shorter, his obstinacy grew stronger, and he retaliated by constantly being curt with his ANBU Captain, undermining her decisions and challenging everything she suggested or did, taking guilty pleasure in frustrating and stressing her out – feeling childish and petty. It was only fair that she suffer as he did.

Naruto had been furious at him today, after he'd adamantly refused and proceeded to mangle several of her decisions and suggestions right in front of some of the ANBU members, causing a heated argument that had resulted in her storming out of his office (and probably straight into the training room to decimate some dummies).

Somehow watching her walk away had felt very, very wrong.

He would make her rest when they got home later, he resolved. He'd do the chores she usually did – she could let him do that without worrying, at least. Maybe he'd even apologise, if he could only get the damn words past his pride and out of his mouth.

His thoughts were interrupted by their very subject knocking softly on the open door before walking in, quietly and stiffly. She did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to bow low. Gaara hated himself.

"The car is ready, Kazekage-sama."

"Sakura-"

She straightened but still did not look him in the eye or acknowledge his words, turning and angling her body towards the door instead – an indication that she was waiting for him to walk out before her like a superior usually did. Her face was blank. Gaara couldn't actually remember the last time they'd abided by this sort of strict protocol. Their bond was stronger than that, deeper than that. Or so he had thought.

The near-apology melted on his tongue as Gaara felt his mood quickly sour. Fine. Two could play at her game. If she wanted to continue their stupid argument, and pull all this protocol crap on him, fine.

He didn't need her forgiveness, her acknowledgement, her support, her anything.

He didn't need her.

His mind whispered: lies.

N

" I think we picked up some unwanted guests."

Sai's bored monotone pierced the deathly silence that had pervaded the car since they'd left Akasuna's HQ – Naruto still annoyed with Gaara, Gaara furious with Sakura, and Sakura just preoccupied as she always was lately. Sai himself hadn't been too concerned about the tension flooding them, but he thought he probably ought to alert the cold-warring trio about the potential threat.

Sakura, previously occupied with shoving her chaotic emotions into the 'pretend-they-don't-exist' box in her head, was interrupted by the sudden warning and glanced in the rear-view mirror for confirmation, before swearing under her breath. A sleek, black sedan with blindingly bright headlights was nearly tailgating their car.

She didn't have to see them to know that it was Akatsuki. Gaara, lounging in the back seat with a tensed-up Naruto, looked infuriatingly unconcerned about their predicament – excited, even. She could see it in the set of his shoulders, the tiny spark in his jade eyes. Gaara wanted a fight, he wanted them to catch up – in his subconscious, at least, because no matter how many years he spent honing his calm, controlled façade as Akasuna's CEO, he was a fighter by nature.

It was after rush hour, and traffic was sparse, but that meant their car was just too easy to follow. Fortunately, it also meant she had more room to try to manoeuvre them out of this situation.

"Sai, call HQ and put Kakashi and Neji on high alert and request backup – they can track us on GPS. Naruto, car description stat and relay the information to Sai." Her voice was level, despite her tensed body and white-knuckled hands gripping the wheel – she was in ANBU Captain mode, and her boys quietly obeyed.

Sai's voice was a rather comforting monotone in the tensed silence of the car as he received Naruto's descriptions and relayed them to Kakashi over the car communicator. "Alright," the dark-haired boy said as Kakashi's voice crackled off, "I got them to send an escape vehicle too."

"Good," Sakura nodded firmly, her approval of his step ahead evident in her voice even as her expression set into one of determination. "Now, hold on. We'll have to try to shake them."

The three men grimaced and grabbed whatever support they could reach, long accustomed to Sakura's insane driving in emergencies.

"I can fight," Gaara growled, itching for a brawl. Right now, he didn't bloody care if the fights he picked were with friends or foes – as long as it was a fight, to get his adrenaline surging, to vent his frustrations. "I'm not going to run and hide."

Sakura's expression was dark. It took a lot of patience to deal with Gaara's infuriatingly stubborn streak, and work well under pressure at the same time – as she had learnt the hard way, over the years. "We are not having this argument, Kazekage-sama."

"Don't give me orders, Haruno."

Oh. So we're still playing that petty surname-and-rank thing? Sakura thought, tiredly, and didn't bother with a retort. She didn't have time nor energy for games anymore.

Sai chose that very moment to be an ass. "With all due respect, Kazekage-sama, do try to refrain from angering the hag while she's operating this death-trap. Considering her driving skills are less than stellar under pressure, I don't think she needs any more incentive to cause an accident."

Gaara and Naruto found themselves wincing inwardly, waiting for Sai to be busted out of the front passenger side door in three… two… one.

Silence. Sakura didn't seem to have heard Sai at all.

Gaara caught a glimpse of Sakura's face in the rear-view mirror, and forgot his childish revenge plans. She was ashen, sweat beading upon her paper-white skin and eyes wide, darting back and forth as if on the verge of a panic breakdown. He had known her for years, and had never seen her like this.

His tone changed completely – a quiet, careful murmur – as his hand twitched to reach for her shoulder.

"Sakura…?"

He was interrupted (always, always interrupted in these moments) by Kakashi's voice sounding over the car communicator, wavering slightly due to interference.

"Hime."

No response. Sai, Naruto and Gaara were all staring at her now. Kakashi's voice sounded again, stronger, sterner..

"Sakura!"

The pink-haired woman seemed to jolt out of a trance, and realise that she was being spoken to. Her responding voice was strained, even though she tried to suppress its tremor.

"Yes, Kakashi."

"We've tracked you, hime. Backup arriving in ten minutes. Tenten has the escape vehicle. For now, keep moving." And don't panic. Don't let your past get to you. The unspoken words hung between them, Kakashi being one of the few who knew her story. "Over and out."

Sakura glanced at the communicator speaker, clearly understanding the reprimand and worry underlying his voice. She had never set foot in the slums since the day she left it and she was unprepared for this – the overwhelming vividness of the memories and terror that surfaced unbidden in her mind in this familiar setting.

But she couldn't think about that now. Her distraction could kill them all. Forcing herself out of the mind of her six-year-old self and back into the frame of mind of a trained ANBU operative, Sakura took stock of her surroundings.

They were in the slums near the outskirts of the city. Their car was pushing 50 kilometres per hour, a dangerous speed on the narrow, rubbish-infested streets of the slums, but there was little she could do about that. She could see the bright, white headlights of the car behind them drawing closer and closer, and looked away when the glare burned her eyes. The indicator needle on their car fuel meter was drawing close to empty – it had been supposed to be enough for the trip home. Neji had reminded her about it that afternoon and Sakura cursed her carelessness, the oversight of the jockeys at HQ. Her stupidity in leading them here, of all places. A lot could happen in ten minutes in this place. They needed a distraction.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a small explosion occurred several feet behind their car, the force of the blast rattling the car and jerking its occupants hard against their seats.

"Explosives," Sai stated blankly, his gun out and the safety clicked off – as usual, nothing fazed him. "They really aren't terribly subtle."

Sakura, disoriented by the blast that had caused her head to be slammed against the headrest, set her jaw and floored the accelerator once her vision cleared, forcing herself to focus. It was just as well that their car was made for situations like these.

"Kazekage-sama, head down. Sai, Naruto, disable them!" she barked out orders while leading their pursuers in a set of complex twists and turns through the narrow alleyways of the place that she had long left behind yet remained so painfully familiar in her mind. The cherry blossom vaguely registered the sound of gunshots as Sai and Naruto leaned out of the windows to shoot at their pursuers, but everything apart from the familiar route before her and the adrenaline surging through her veins was hazy.

Turn left here. An old, rusted fire escape ladder hung there, where the slum children used to play, daring each other to climb the rickety thing. She'd got to the top of that brittle thing once, after a bully had tried to beat her up for the bread she'd stolen for Yuki.

Two junctions on, a right turn. Six overflowing rubbish bins lined the alley on the right, some overturned and others broken, but with the same piles of rubbish in torn plastic bags strewn around them. Sakura could remember vividly how she had combed through the trash to search for leftover food or usable items, so frequently that the overpowering stench had just stopped bothering her.

After that red building, a left turn, keep going until you see the wire fence.

I'm home.

She had somehow managed to lose their pursuers, and skidded to a halt several metres in front of a wire fence that spelt a dead-end. Sakura killed the engine and the lights, plunging them into grim, quiet darkness, punctuated only by their harsh breathing and the dim light of the crescent moon above them. Even then, she could see. There, on the wall right next to the fence, a rectangular shape where the wall was darker than the rest of the fading paint on the building. The zinc roof and haphazard cardboard walls of the shack that she had once called home were missing, probably plundered by another homeless soul looking for shelter or destroyed by weather. Even in the darkness, Sakura knew the exact spot on the ground where there would be a large, dark patch of discolouration – dried blood. Yuki had bled out, right there. She closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. This was far, far too close to home.

Shoving the tidal wave of memories back with sheer willpower, Sakura forced herself to return to the present. "Kakashi," she spoke into the communicator, "we're going to abandon the car. Send Tenten to Tsunade-sama's shelter. Over."

"Roger that. Be careful. Over and out." Kakashi's voice crackled.

Gaara, Naruto and Sai were already out of the car, weapons drawn. Sakura took a breath to steel herself, pulling out her own gun and slipping out of the car. Shaking Akatsuki off was the easy part.

Getting Gaara to leave would be the hard part.