.

.

Outside the attic, Gaara unlocked the door but didn't turn on the lights, taking the staircase to the upper floor where the old antiques were stored. There was a wedge of light cutting through the darkness, and he could see the fine granulations of dust floating in the air. Temari coughed and waved her hand, irritated.

"I told you we should have cleaned this place out earlier," Temari said. "God knows what kind of shit father kept up in here." She coughed again. "Are you really planning on using this place as an office?"

"No, just a library," Gaara said, and he swirled the dust in his hand. Temari glared.

"Show off," Temari said.

Through the tiny window, a patch of orange light streaked across the piles of boxes and broken puppets across from them. Gaara turned and slowly walked over to the other side of the room. Wordlessly he touched each unopened box, tracing them with the tips of his fingers. There was so much history here, so much of his past quite literally buried inside. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was not so much a cleaning effort as it was disinterring the remains of some unknown body, shaking its bones and desecrating its grave. Beside him, Temari squatted on the floor and began tearing into a box. She kept digging, wholly absorbed in her task. "I don't know what it is you're looking for, but if you ask me, this whole place should be thrown in the garbage," Temari said. Gaara didn't answer.

Gaara knelt beside Temari, and wordlessly opened a box. Inside he found a series of dusty picture frames. In was a picture of his mother; another was a picture of Temari and Kankuro. Gaara set the pictures down, carefully avoiding the ones of Yashamaru and his father, frowning and turning them over in his hands.

"Gaara, look what I found," Temari said. Gaara turned and saw her holding up a battered teddy bear by its paw. "Remember this?"

Gaara remembered. It was the bear Yashamaru gave him when he was a child. Temari picked up the bear by the corner of its ear and sniffed. "Guh," she said. "It stinks." She started to toss it out.

"Wait," Gaara said. "Give it to me." Temari knitted her brow.

"Why?" Temari said.

"Yashamaru gave it to me."

Temari looked at him darkly. "In that case, you should burn it," she said, and she tossed it to him.

Gaara caught the bear and set it on his lap. The bear was definitely worse for wear; one of its button eyes was starting to fall out, and the stitches in the seams were coming loose. Its fur had all but rubbed off, and Gaara could see the thin bald spot in the fabric where he used to hug it as a child.

For some inexplicable reason, looking at it made him feel lonely.

"Gaara." Temari was watching him now, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Gaara said. He looked at the bear again, his fingers sinking into its fur. "I think I'll keep this," Gaara said. He took the bear and gently tucked it under his arm.

Temari watched him, doubtfully. "You do realize you're the Kazekage now, right?" she asked.

"What about it?"

"Any self-respecting man wouldn't be caught sleeping with a toy. Least of all the Kazekage," Temari said.

"I guess it's a good thing I don't sleep," Gaara said.

Gaara reached into the box of picture frames again, pulling out the picture of Temari and Kankuro. Temari peered over his shoulder and frowned.

"Don't look at that," she said, and she took the frame away from him.

Temari moved to another box. She opened it, coughing at the dust billowing around her face. There were manila envelopes inside. She tore into them. "Oh my God," Temari said. Gaara peered over her shoulder.

They were surveillance reports all about Gaara. Temari fumbled through the folders, her hands shaking. "Look," Temari said.

There were surveillance photographs of Gaara as a child, sitting alone in the sand; the photos were grainy black and white, unlike the ones of Temari and Kankuro, which were portraits done in color. Temari flipped through them, quickly.

There was a picture of Gaara, four years old, hugging his knees and watching the other children on the playground.

Gaara, clinging to Yashamaru's leg.

Gaara crying in the courtyard.

Gaara, after the assassination attempt. His eyes looked dead inside.

Temari shoved them back into the envelope.

"Temari," Gaara said.

"I don't want to look at these," Temari said.

"Temari, it's okay," Gaara said.

"No, it's not okay!" Temari said, and Gaara was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Temari swiped them away, angrily. "I'm your older sister," Temari said. "I should have protected you. I should have..."

"Temari," Gaara said, and Temari started to cry.

"Fuck," Temari said. She wiped her eyes again. "Our Kage sleeps with teddy bears and his sister's a fucking lunatic. I can't believe Kankuro's the only one who isn't all fucked up."

"Kankuro isn't here," Gaara said. He wasn't sure what to do.

Gaara sat on his hands, waiting for Temari to calm down. She wasn't though, her shoulders were shaking. Hesitantly, Gaara reached out and patted his sister clumsily on the shoulder. "We were both children," Gaara said. "You couldn't have known."

"Children are fucking cruel," Temari said.

They closed the boxes in silence, the sunlight starting to disappear behind the horizon. Gaara watched as Temari squared her shoulders and hefted the boxes above her head, shoving them against the wall. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, wanted to tell her there was no reason to feel guilty. But the words wouldn't come; they were stuck in his throat. "Temari," he said, but she didn't answer.

That night, Gaara sat on the roof of the compound; his sister was asleep. Below him, he could see Kankuro ambling back from his mission, Baki and the others straggling behind him. Slowly he tucked the bear back under his arm and stood; their Kage was still left behind.