I thought I was writing my longest one-shot ever last time… But this one's not much shorter. Maybe it's just a sign that I'm developing as a writer. Hopefully… Yeah, I'll go with that.

Though I'm sure it's made obvious quite early on, this one-shot is written from Temari's point of view. Also, I'm a tad bit sketchy on just how far apart in age the Sand Siblings are—you know, taking into account birth months and all that… So please excuse some generalizations. (Or incorrect specifications.) This story started as just the final scene, but it slowly became an account of Gaara's entire life through Temari's eyes as I started writing it.

Legacies

I had just turned three when my mother died. Kankuro was nearly two, and Gaara, of course, had just been introduced to the world. The adults say we were all too young to truly recall that day, but I remember.

Some parents leave behind pictures or memories. My mother left behind her killer.

Later that night, I'd stood over Gaara's crib, looking down at the little beast that had taken my mother from me. He wasn't receiving any of the extra care premature newborns are usually given. His body was supporting itself just fine.

Even as young as three, I'd begun to learn of enemies and the dangers of the world. I'd always pictured these threats as giants. My brother was tiny, only a few hours old, yet he'd done more harm to this family than any outsider ever would. Or so I believed at the time.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, staring down at him. None of the servants would come within ten feet of this room. My father was tending to the funeral preparations. Gaara, of course, stared right back, wide awake, barely moving a muscle. We would find out later that certain laws of nature just didn't apply to him.

We were finally interrupted by Yashamaru, who must have succeeded in putting Kankuro to sleep at last. My uncle hesitated only slightly before striding into the room, grabbing my arm, and leading me out, only sparing his new nephew the briefest of indistinguishable glances as we left.

I didn't see Gaara again for a long time after that day. Once our mother was buried, the focus on our supervision returned full force. We were kept far away from our new brother, and our lessons increased. Yashamaru only stayed on with us a little longer. Even after he'd left, he would check in from time to time, but I think the absence of my mother was just too painful for him to stay very long.

And then, six years after my mother's death, our uncle stayed with us for nearly seven months. More than half a year… and Kankuro and I barely saw him. I thought he'd finally gotten past his grief. At least enough to look at us without grimacing. But no. Yashamaru seemed to only want to spend time with him.

I still only saw my youngest brother on rare occasions, but as the months passed, my amazement grew. Day after day, our uncle managed to escape what I was sure was his impending doom. I began to think he'd accomplished the impossible—that maybe Uncle Yashamaru had tamed Gaara.

Our father very casually informed us over breakfast one morning that Yashamaru was dead. Gaara had killed him. I remember how Kankuro and I had frozen, and Dad went on eating as if we'd been discussing something trivial, like superficial damages caused by another sandstorm.

I had never felt any real connection to my youngest brother. From the moment he was born, Gaara became the bomb that threatened by happiness, sanity, and later my safety. Every once in a while, he would explode and destroy something—or someone—else. And just when we'd think he'd finally settled down, he would explode again, and we would realize that he hadn't been permanently dismantled. He'd just been taking his time reassembling.

'I' became 'we' when Gaara earned his Sunagakure headband—the greatest irony of all. Gaara had killed too many—shinobi and civilians alike—for anyone to honestly believe he felt any sense of loyalty towards this village. I had graduated three years earlier, Kankuro the year before. The two of us had spent this time doing pointless D-rank missions, the occasional challenge. We had been kept on reserve, I just didn't know for what.

I felt that same frozen feeling creep into my bones when our father sat us down to announce that my brothers and I would become our own squad. Kankuro's expression and posture mirrored my own. Gaara, when I dared to look at him, didn't seem particularly affected by this news.

I'd spent the rest of that meeting staring our father down, silently daring him to give us a human moment, to treat us like his children, not just three more soldiers at his disposal. But the only thing he gave us was the same cold, detached air he gave everything these days. It was almost impressive to find something so cold in the desert. Sometimes it felt like we'd been completely orphaned the day my mother died—like our father had forsaken his role as Father and become 100% Kazekage.

In a lot of ways, spending time with my younger brother was both a lot worse than I'd imagined and not quite as bad. He didn't say much and kept his distance as much as possible. I could almost pretend he wasn't actually a part of this team, if I tried hard enough. But at the same time, his presence was almost impossible to ignore. His silence was unintrusive, but it still managed to permeate every second of our time together. I was constantly waiting for him to snap. And when he did, it was always worse than I'd feared.

For that reason, my brother's mental state should have been the first thing on my mind when we were sent on our most dangerous mission yet, so far away from home. But my mind was more ruled by emotion than I liked to admit. As focused as I was on the task ahead, a part of me had stayed behind with our father in Suna.

By that time, Kankuro and I were both very aware of what Gaara was and how he had become that way. I knew my father had had big plans for his youngest son since before his birth. Our mother's death had been an inevitable sacrifice, and he'd had to accept every other casualty along the way for the sake of the bigger picture.

I'd begun to wonder where we stood in this picture—Kankuro and I. His innocent children. Baki had yet to give us any reason to doubt his competence, but I doubted he could protect us if Gaara ever truly lost it and attacked. My father was the only one I trusted to do that. And now he'd sent us away with a monster. I wondered. Were we just two more acceptable sacrifices?

I spent most of my life watching my family fall apart. Gaara's birth may have catapulted this trend into action, but I'm not sure how much of the blame I could put solely on his shoulders. He was responsible for countless deaths, including those of our mother and uncle. And yet… I couldn't bring myself to overlook whose decision it had been to give Shukaku another host after so long. I loved and revered my father. But I hated him too.

The invasion of Konoha was the best thing to ever happen to this family. I wish I could tell him that.

At the time, I'd been dreading our homecoming. He was sure to be displeased with our failure. I wasn't sure what the repercussions on the village as a whole would be for almost starting a war. None of those fears came to be realized. We returned home to discover that our father was dead. The Sound had betrayed us, too.

I hadn't known what to expect out of that first afternoon back in the desert. Sure, Gaara had offered up some sort of apology on our way back, but I hadn't decided what to make of that yet. Even if it was genuine, he couldn't seriously believe that one vague apology would immediately right all of his many violent wrongs. I had gotten my hopes up too many times already when it came to my youngest brother. I wasn't ready to be optimistic again just yet.

Though we must have left Konoha around the same time, Baki had somehow managed to get home before us. He'd been the one to break the news of our father's death.

That afternoon, the three of us had stood around his casket. We were all silent as we stared down at our father's body. I wasn't sure what either of my brothers were thinking. I wasn't sure what I was thinking.

My father had been distant for as long as Gaara had been alive. We'd learned how to function without him a long time ago.

The way Gaara stood there with us as we all tried to iron out our final thoughts on the man who had helped to bring us into this world… For the first time, it was like I really did have two brothers. For the first time, he was a part of us. In a sick way, I began to view my father's death as a new beginning.

And it was a new beginning. Without our father around to give the order, no one actively tried to keep us apart. Gaara still kept his distance at first, but he soon started joining us for meals. As the days passed, his mental state seemed to level out. He got the malevolent voice plaguing his mind under control. He started making an effort to make pleasant conversation with us. And most of all, he seemed to mean it.

After one of these exchanges, Kankuro and I remained seated in the kitchen after Gaara left. We were silent as we listened to him walk away.

At last, Kankuro commented, "You know, I always wanted a brother."

"You can't remember ever not having a brother."

"You know what I mean," he replied. And I did.

By the time Gaara was ready to go off on his own, sketch out some new personal goals, he was acting downright brotherly. We weren't conventional, but we felt like a real family again. And I was surprised at how much I didn't want him to leave our little group. It wasn't that I was unused to feeling worried when it came to matters revolving around my youngest brother, but for the first time, I was worried for his wellbeing. There was still a lot of ill will harbored towards him, and the more logical half of me knew the citizens of Sunagakure had every right to be bitter.

But Gaara knew this too. He had no delusions about how difficult it would be for him to integrate into regular society.

It was odd to find myself on his side. I suddenly had a distressingly short temper when it came to complaints lodged against my brothers. I knew it only added to the walls built up around the three of us. It was a hard balance to maintain, especially when Gaara became Kazekage. I was proud of our bond, but it was hard to work with the village leaders when we came across as unapproachable.

I'd known for a long time that my father had brought Gaara into being with the intention of making him the village weapon. But 'weapon' was a long way off from 'protector.' I'd never thought this day would come, and you could hardly blame me.

But quiet as he was, Gaara had been rocking the boat—challenging everything I thought I knew about him—ever since we'd left Konoha. Bizarre as this new development seemed, the three of us settled back into a routine.

Maybe it shouldn't have seemed that strange. Gaara had always been stronger than we were—that was no secret. And now that he was officially our superior, he didn't lord it over us like he might have once upon a time. Gaara seemed to view us as his advisors long before any decision of that matter was made official. We all had a few new responsibilities, but for the most part, life went on as usual.

As per this new routine, Gaara now spent the majority of his nights working through all the paperwork that came with the territory. On one of these nights, I stopped by the Kazekage's office.

It was nearly midnight and, though I was sure he was still awake, I'd lost Kankuro to his workshop hours ago. I'm sure my appearance was an interesting sight. I don't think I'd ever been to his office out of uniform, ready for duty, before. My hair wasn't out of its pigtails yet, but I was already in pajamas, otherwise ready for bed. My brother, I noted, had not changed out of his day clothes, but then, I didn't know if he owned a single pair of pajamas. I supposed you didn't need them when you didn't sleep.

I knocked lightly on the door, though I knew Gaara was already aware of my presence.

He looked up from the form he was filling out. I could see him noting every aspect of my appearance. I wasn't dressed, but I wasn't armed either. And I'd stopped to knock. I wasn't rushing into the room, roused from sleep, to alert him to some emergency. Which made my visit very odd.

"Come in," he invited once he'd determined nothing was wrong.

"I just wanted to check on you," I told him, taking a few steps into the room and trying to sound casual. "You should take a break. No one can work 24/7 like this without…"

'Going crazy.' The words were on the tip of my tongue, and I bit them back just in time. We were both silent for a moment. I was sure Gaara knew what it was I'd almost said, and I could only hope I hadn't offended him. Just a few years ago, it would have been because I was afraid of his reaction. Now, I just didn't want to hurt his feelings. I'd watched my brother face down Shukaku's influence and win. He had enough people watching his every move. He didn't need to think Kankuro or I were still having trouble trusting him too.

"I'll be fine," he told me, letting the awkward moment pass. "Sometimes I stop to look at the stars."

I moved over to look out the window myself. There weren't any surrounding buildings that were taller than this one. I had a clear view.

Until our invasion mission had been assigned, I'd mostly just stayed out of my brother's way. It was only once we were in Konoha that I began obsessively tracking Gaara's whereabouts, making sure I knew where he was at all times, for my own peace of mind. I remembered all those nights he'd spent staring up at the sky.

My younger brothers had always seemed so single-minded—both of them. It had never occurred to me that Gaara might have hobbies. Vaguely, I wondered if he could name all the constellations out there. It had become a very strange night indeed.

Gaara continued to watch me as I tried to find a justifiable reason for being there. I glanced around and took in all the neat and orderly stacks of paper.

"I can't remember this room ever looking so clean," I commented. "You and Father have very different ways of keeping house."

I could've smacked myself. I was two for two when it came to putting my foot in my mouth. This was why I didn't make small talk.

I wasn't sure if Gaara hated our father. We were all a little… strange about him. Kankuro went to so much trouble—the ridiculous suit, all that face paint—just to hide their resemblance. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. I was still conflicted. Our father was a hard person to get to know, but if anyone had reason to hate the man, it was his youngest son.

"Yes," Gaara replied neutrally, his voice level. "But our father was more pressed for time than I am. There's only so much you can do in a day. Besides, I've only been appointed as Kazekage for a very short while. Perhaps, in a few weeks, this place won't look so neat."

"Maybe," I agreed quietly, though I was sure he would keep on top of it. "Look, I'm sorry about bringing Dad up. I'm sure you just want to move on."

He was quiet for a moment, as if he was picking his next words very carefully. "I understand why he did what he did."

"That doesn't make it okay that he did it," I protested. "You were a little kid, and he expected you to handle that monster all by yourself."

"It's taken me a long time," he responded to my accusations, "but I've come to accept what I am."

Our conversation trailed off, and I let him go back to work so I could sleep. The next morning, our lives went on as if my awkward yet insightful visit the night before had never happened.

And then the Akatsuki happened. And I almost lost both of my brothers in the same week.

It had been the most emotionally-exhausting string of days I'd ever experienced. I'd been too far away to help them in the beginning. And then, even when I was there, I could do little but stand back while everyone else went to their rescue. And even once Kankuro was in the clear, I had Gaara's wellbeing to agonize over.

I'll never forget the day Gaara was brought back. Kankuro and I—followed by an entire crowd of Sunagakure shinobi—had rushed to the scene… only to find our brother dead on the ground.

The other shinobi had stopped and formed an almost protective circle around the area. They stayed at a respectable distance, but Kankuro and I rushed to the front, dropping down by Gaara's side as Elder Chiyo and Naruto Uzumaki leaned over him, desperately working some jutsu.

But I knew it wouldn't work. The Uzumaki boy still looked so determined, so hopeful, but growing up in the Sand village… We weren't exactly experiencing the same era of peace. I knew what it looked like when someone was dead—gone for good.

I felt like I was collapsing internally. Surely, my outward form would soon lose its structure too, and I would be nothing but a heap of broken body parts on the ground.

"No," I breathed, though I'm sure only Kankuro was close enough to hear me. Or, if Naruto and Chiyo did hear, they were too focused on their hopeless jutsu to respond.

"No," I whispered again. "You can't leave us… The three of us… We're all we have…"

I closed my eyes. They were burning, but the tears that should have been streaming down my cheeks weren't making an appearance. There were too many people watching for me to break down here. I had been trained too well. And I hated myself for it.

Kankuro stood suddenly, and I looked up. He had a haunted look on his face as he stared at Chiyo.

Suddenly, she toppled over, and my brother gasped. My youngest brother.

I stared at him, frozen in shock. Bits of past knowledge were drifting back to me. Kankuro had once told me of a forbidden jutsu developed in the Puppetmaster Corps. Could this be…?

Time seemed to slow as I got my miracle and Gaara returned from the dead.

…

Night had already fallen by the time we got Gaara back on his feet, and he hadn't really recovered enough for the journey home anyway. Our crowd turned that field into a temporary camp. We were right out in the open—it went against every rule of combat and common sense I'd ever been taught. But our elation had made us careless. And that went for me, too. We were a field of trained killers. Let someone try to attack us and see what happened.

My brothers and I stayed awake long after everyone else gave in to exhaustion. Earlier, I'd been helping Sakura and Elder Ebizo position Chiyo so she could be transported back to the village, but now I made my way over to where my brothers were seated, a little ways away from the masses.

As I got closer, I realized they were talking in low voices and Kankuro, who I'd never seen say a single comforting word to anyone, was holding his hand.

"You'll get used to it," I heard him say. "Sleep comes pretty naturally—you can't really fight it. The biggest change you'll have to make is just how you manage your time."

"I'm sure you're right," Gaara answered, though he sounded stressed and reluctant. "But when I tried… It was like I was just falling into oblivion. The only other time I've felt like that was when I was dying."

Kankuro was silent. And it was disturbing to know that he could remember what it felt like to die. But as I sat down with them, I promised, "It'll get easier."

But would it? I wondered how long it would be before I would be able to resist checking on him each night, reassuring myself that he will wake up in the morning. And if I was doubting my own words, how must Gaara feel?

The lump in my throat that had been missing earlier in the afternoon made its appearance now. The way my brothers were both staring at me, I knew my eyes were watering visibly. Kankuro wasn't the comforting type, and I never cried. But now I let the tears spill over as I threw my arms around Gaara.

He stiffened reflexively—even if we trusted each other now, he wasn't used to gestures of physical affection—but he let me sob pathetically into his shoulder.

"You can't die, okay?" I blubbered, though I knew it was a ridiculous thing to make anyone promise—an impossible thing. "You're all we have left of her."

I hadn't realized it until I said it, but I had delegated one parent to each of my brothers. Through Kankuro, I kept our father alive—but only his best parts. His determination and reliability. And Gaara… They had only surfaced recently, but Gaara shared some of his best traits with our mother. He was thoughtful and gentle and loyal. The best parts of both of my parents lived on in my brothers.

I thought my own trembling was shaking my brother, but when Gaara shifted to lean into my neck, his face was wet with tears too.

Having witnessed the whole, messy scene, Kankuro now reached out to hug Gaara from his other side, his arms stretching far enough to reach me as well. We were a jagged, damaged little trio, but not all families were perfect. I knew now that Gaara had been a gift in disguise. He hadn't taken our mother from us. Our mother had chosen to leave him behind. For us.

Review please!

I don't own Naruto.