A/N: And so, we have come to the end, my friends. My warmest gratitude to you all.
Here's the quote that not only inspired the feeling behind this chapter, but also the title:
"We're taught to be individualistic monsters. We're driven by society to separate ourselves from each other. That's not right. We may be connected together far more intimately than we realize."
Sakura didn't remember much from the return trip. She had lain limply in the circle of Gaara's arms, feet brushing the rock wall lightly as he maneuvered down the rocky pathway. He hadn't said a word to her since before they had split up, but she recalled feeling very safe against him. He had smelled like dust and blood.
Once they made it back into the city, she remembered being handed off, albeit reluctantly, to not one, but two pairs of waiting arms. She caught a flash of gold and silver. There was a short exchange of speech, and then a familiar voice rose in anger… and tears. Later on, she found out that it had been Kakashi and Naruto. They, upon finding out just what her Sand mission entailed, had fled from Konoha, against orders, to find her. They had known that if Sasuke were there, he would seek her out immediately.
She didn't know how they got back to Konohagakure so quickly, but they did, and she was again passed into other arms, those of the Hokage. As the story was exchanged, she thought she had felt the woman's chest shaking with either suppressed sobs or anger. Maybe both.
And the last thing she remembered was being taken home, placed in her bed by none other than her silver-haired sensei. He pulled the sheets up around her, and sat on the edge of her bed. Tenderly, his hand came forward and stroked the hair back from her face, then moved back to his own and pulled down the mask.
She'd seen his face before, once or twice, by accident or otherwise, but was touched all the same by his gesture. He made sure that she saw his soft smile before he kissed her forehead. He touched her face again, acting the part of the father and the friend and the protector all at once. He waited until she had fallen asleep, hand holding hers, thumb stroking lightly at her palm, until she fell asleep.
It was deathly quiet in her apartment. Sakura guessed that her friends had been told to leave her be for a while, only Tsunade stopping by to heal any damage done, and Naruto. His eyes had looked swollen when they met hers, and he had swallowed deeply, electric blue gaze looking suspiciously wet suddenly. She had drawn him into her home and her embrace, both perching on her couch and not letting go of one another for a long, long time.
She frowned over a cup of coffee. It was during quiet times like these that she missed her parents the most. They had been dead some years, her mother, crushed under the garden wall during Orochimaru's invasion, and her father had gone on an A-rank mission and not come back.
Orochimaru. She could think about him now, without it hurting And…Sasuke, too.
Uchiha Sasuke's body didn't get a public funeral. Maybe if it hadn't been too late and he had died as himself, he might have. But as it was, he got nothing more than a plain grave in the ground, his clan symbol and name engraved into the rock, surrounded by his kin. The dark-haired boy's name whose body had been stolen did not get carved onto the memorial. She couldn't find a good reason to argue against this. Maybe she just didn't care.
Or maybe she cared too much.
The rebellion in Sand quickly deflated without its mastermind to lead them. The former Kazekage's children were all accounted for except for one. The little girl was given a lovely funeral, all her remaining siblings and relatives gathering about her casket.
Sakura was due to start work again in two days. She really didn't want to wait. Irately, she shoved the mug into the sink and began scrubbing at the dishes. She didn't know where this unexpected bout of anger came from, but she embraced it, feeding her frustration into her hands and nearly scrubbing the pattern off one of her plates.
Treating me like an invalid is what they're all doing! I mean, he didn't even do anything to me…I don't need to be babied! When she nearly skewered her hand on a fork, she made herself calm down. Now I'm just being a brat, she admitted at length.
She finished the dishes and moved from the kitchen, meandering into the living room and dropping into a chair. She plucked a book from the shelf behind it and made an attempt to pick up where she had left off.
She must have reread the same line several times before she fell asleep.
The first day back at work was refreshing, a wonderful change to the monotony her life had become in the last week alone. She treated patients, some she knew and greeted with light conversation or a happy smile. Her coworkers knew nothing about the incident in Sand, and for that she was extremely grateful. She put on a face and made up a story for them, telling it to each who asked with diligence and ease.
She spent her evenings training, determined to make up for lost time and to prove to everyone that she was all right.
She was heading home when her stomach finally decided to chime in with all the other aches and pains of her body. His rumbled loud enough for a woman passing by to hear, who stifled a giggle. Sakura grinned bemusedly, patting her middle and changing course to the nearest food stall.
"Long time no see, Sakura-san," called Ossan as she ducked under the hanging sign at the Ichiraku's entrance. She nodded, and he turned to put together her dinner. She moved and sat at the very end of the counter, sitting on the stood sideways so that she could lean her back on the wall.
She watched people passing the open front of the shop, eyes following their movements from left to right, right to left, stopping when they stopped, changing direction when they did. A familiar figure shuffled into her line of vision, and stopped halfway across the opening, obviously sensing her gaze. He turned into the shop, greeted Ossan and sat down beside her.
"Hey," he spoke.
"Mm."
Sakura knew he wanted to ask her how she was, but didn't want to provoke her wrath. He was bound to know her better than anyone, he'd been her teacher for many years, and he should be able to tell what would change her moods. He pushed his hair back, scanning the enlarged menu on the wall.
"How long are you going to be home?" She chose the break the silence that had grown.
He shrugged. "A while. Hokage-sama says that I haven't been able to enjoy being home lately. She gave me a little vacation."
Sakura suddenly laughed, spitting out noodle that had been in her mouth. "What's this? Hatake Kakashi, on vacation? Stop the presses!" He smiled gratefully as her giggling continued. Either she was putting up a strong front, or she really was better than everyone thought she was. He liked to think that it was the latter.
Their banter continued through dinner, both greatly enjoying the other's company, catching up on events they had missed over the past few months. When they were finished, he walked her home, putting down, in good humor, her playful attempts to get him to sneak her into a bar.
She bid him goodnight with a soft 'thank you'. He smiled, and made for the trek home, jamming his hands in his pockets, and ambling off, slouching. She watched him until he was out of sight.
After Sakura kicked off her shoes, she shuffled towards the bathroom, intent on a shower. She halted as she felt something loose and grainy between her toes. Sand. Pretty clean sand, she noted while she gazed downward, wiggling her toes. Not the stuff you get off the ground…more like the stuff you'd see hanging around –
"Gaara?" She dug her toes into the sand then pulled them out, padding softly to the living room. "You here?" Further inspection revealed that he was not within the confines of her small flat. Strolling slowly into her bedroom, she moved to the window, opening it and peering at the building where she knew his apartment to be. She wasn't sure where exactly it was, but it seemed that every window was dark. The rooftop was empty, as well.
Frowning, she closed her window, forwent the shower, and instead slipped into bed. When she woke in the morning, the sand settled in her foyer was gone.
"Hey, hey, Sakura-chan!"
She turned, pink hair falling into her face. When she brushed it back, Naruto stood in front of her; jounin vest slung over one shoulder. "Hey," she smiled, "You just get back?"
"Nah. Been home a few hours already. I just had to stop for ramen first." His whisker marks moved as his cheeks puffed from his ear-to-ear smile in response to her laugh. Of course Naruto would spend nearly five months away from home and then drop by the Ichiraku first thing upon his return.
She finished stocking the cabinet with medical supplies. Naruto gladly accepted her offer to go back to the Ichiraku and grab another bite to eat.
It was close to midnight by the time Sakura finally stumbled into her apartment. While she and Naruto had been eating, a crowd of older shinobi had showed up, ranging from teachers, like Asuma and Kurenai, to mission-takers, like Genma. They had all squeezed into one big booth and enjoyed the company. Sakura bantered on and off with Genma, who, true to his fashion, had attempted to pick her up. He took her gentle refusal with a wink and a smile, opting instead to sneak her a couple drinks.
Sakura discovered that her tolerance was pretty low. Only a few beers and she was a a trifle tipsy. Nothing wrong with her head, but her coordination was shot. She regretted it – she'd have to use a special jutsu to flush the alcohol from her system before even considering going to work the next day.
She shuffled into the living room, groping for the remote lying on the couch's end table. Fingers seeking the power button, she flopped onto the couch. It took her muggy senses a moment to register that the couch was not supposed to be warm, and the spring in the seat wasn't digging into her side like usual.
With a squeal, she jerked backwards so hard that she landed right on the floor, elbow cracking painfully on the coffee table. Or would have, if not for the hands that shot out and caught her about the upper arms.
She opened her mouth to yell, but one of the hands released her and covered her mouth. Frantically, she bit down. A hiss was all the warning she had before she was tossed on the couch and lights flicked on. Her mouth opened and floundered for a moment.
"Gaara!" He was standing a few feet away, fingers dropping from the light switch, hand coming up to eye level to inspect the damage. "Oh, sorry! But you scared the living hell out of me…" He was frowning, and she mirrored the expression. "Wait. How did you get in here in the first place?"
He ignored her, sucking blood off his hand where she had broken skin. "About time you got home. Thought I was going to have to wait all damn night."
Sakura sat up on the couch. "You were here once before, weren't you?" She stood, wobbling slightly, and leaned against the arm of the couch. She folded her arms and stared, expecting an answer.
His eyes met hers, and she grew irritated at the stubbornness in them. You'd think I asked him to tell me his darkest secret, she fumed. I just want to know why the hell he's been sneaking into my house!
"Well?" He kept staring. She marched, a little steadier than before, up to him and prodded his chest. "I've got every right to know why you've been breaking into my home!" He huffed and broke the eye contact. Growling, she rammed a fist into his arm. It didn't have any force behind it. Boy, was her coordination really shot.
Her light blow seemed to set him into motion. The look in his eyes turned to an angry one. His hand captured her wrist in a tight enough grip that it was uncomfortable. "Hey – ow!" She tried to yank her wrist away. He tightened his fingers.
"Why?"
She looked up sharply, and his eyes were on hers and he was too close and she was drowning, in them, in him. "Why, what?" His stare bored into her, and she was suddenly shivering.
"Why are you so weak?" He hissed suddenly, and the hand holding her wrist suddenly pulled her hand, loosening the fist and pressing it to his chest. Her eyes widened as she felt his accelerated heart rate. It was pounding against her palm. And before she could open her mouth to reply to his insult, he was speaking again.
"Why? Tell me. Why do you make me so weak?"
Her breath caught, then started again. What is he…I don't…
There was a whirlwind in his eyes, and she couldn't look away. His face lowered close to her own. "You make me weak. I hate you. I wish you were gone. Dead. Rotting in the ground somewhere. Out of my sight means out of my mind." His face inched closer, his breath slipped over her lips, warming them. Her trembling increased tenfold. She felt warm suddenly.
"Is this love?"
She barely caught his strained whisper. The thundering in her chest was too loud. Her mouth dropped open as his lips brushed hers.
He pulled away very slowly. She finally noticed that she was pressed almost flush against him, and that he was trembling, too. His eyes looked pained and confused and exhilarated and angry all at once.
"W-what?"
His other hand came up and pressed hers firmer against his chest. "You do this to me," his voice grated through clenched teeth. His heart was practically bursting now. He looked scared.
Hm. Gaara of the Desert. Scared. I'd laugh if this weren't so serious.
His fingers brushed across her cheek, fluttering onto her jaw. His other hand left hers and traced along her ear, finally winding through her hair, stroking the soft, petal-pink strands. Without realizing it, she leaned into his touch. When she finally noticed, she decided that she didn't mind one bit.
And she also didn't mind when he leaned in again, when his lips once more touched hers. In fact, she found herself tipping her head up to meet him. Her hand, no longer pinned by his, moved up and slipped to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair that fell there.
When they finally separated, she grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her chest, laying it just above the swell of her breast. "And you," she panted, "do this to me." He swallowed, licked his lips.
Then his mouth was on hers again, fingers burying deep into her hair. His tongue touched the seam of her lips, and she opened them to him. Both her arms wrapped around his neck, and she blearily thought, with a mental laugh, that it was Gaara touching her so closely – Gaara – possibly the most anti-touch person she knew. Then all thought was lost when he did something, oh something, with his tongue that made her toes curl and her grip tighten.
They pulled apart, flushed and breathing heavily. She smiled at him, and he nuzzled her cheek before burying his nose in her hair. She was pleased to feel his smile against her neck. She'd bet anything that it wasn't the cool, calm smirk that he usually gave her.
Gently, she let him go and took his hand. His eyes flitted up to hers, and she made sure he saw not only the smile in them, but also the smoke and embers. "C'mon," she mumbled, tugging lightly. His fingers caught her chin and he kissed her soundly, making her belly heat and her fingers clench on his. When he pulled back, she could see the same smoke and fire in his eyes that she knew were in hers.
Her bedroom was dark and cool, only lit by the streetlight filtering through the thin cotton curtains. Her bed creaked lightly as she sat on it, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he unbuckled the sand gourd from his back and kicked off his shoes.
He came towards her slowly, eyes seeking hers as his fingers did. She took his hand again and lightly caressed his fingers, urging him to sit with her. The bed dipped lightly under his added weight, and the springs squeaked again. Her hand moved his hair back from his brow, tracing the strokes to the kanji tattooed there. His eyes closed, and he leaned into her touch, finally moving forward so far that his head was pillowed in the crook of her neck. His hand grasped hers and his thumb ran lightly over her palm.
So gentle, thought Sakura with a sigh. I'll bet I'm one of the very few people who have seen him like this.
His head finally tilted back up, and she moved to take his lips. They shared short kisses, playfully melding together, falling back onto the bed. Eventually Gaara grew tired with the game, and his mouth on hers was harder, heated, demanding more. She was inclined to agree.
Tongue tangling with his as her limbs did, they struggled to remove clothing. His touches were a little inexperienced, but passion fueled, rough in some places and soft in others. Her fingers fumbled on the ties to his pants when his dipped into the heating space between her legs. She gasped and tensed. His fingers paused and she bit her lip hard. Something unpleasant had flashed in her mind as she had felt the first brush of his fingers. No one had touched her there since…
Very suddenly, his eyes were boring into hers, two shades of green meeting and locking. "I'm not him, Sakura." His breath blew across her skin, his tongue handling her name in a way that made her shiver, regardless of her momentary hesitation. His hand drew back a fraction, leaving her warmth, but still lingering about the inside of her thigh. "Say the word and I'll stop, but say it now. I don't think I'll be able to stop if you tell me to later." His strained voice, gritted teeth and furrowed brow left her with no possibility of doubting him.
His fingers were back, lightly tracing her. She bucked against him as he experimentally moved them about about. Thought patterns dissolved and formed, molding erratically. Through the haze, she did manage to get it through; he had spoken truthfully. He wasn't Orochimaru; he was doing this only with her consent. And as they managed to piece together more coherent thought, she knew that she was ready for this. She'd had plenty of time to heal. Any more, and she'd start growing mold. Her hands began working on his clothing again. She didn't see his grin, but felt him speed up his fingers. Eventually, she had loosened the waist of his pants to retaliate, relishing in the breath that hissed out of him at her first hesitant touch.
Their hands traced and touched, memorizing and making note of what made the other do what. She found that if she trailed her fingers a certain way along the base of his spine, he jerked against her, moaning. Likewise, he discovered that the insides of her thighs were ticklish.
The touches grew rougher and rougher, and, gasping, he attempted to turn her around, fingers gliding along her, testing how ready she was. Panting, she cast him a slightly frightened, questioning glance over her shoulder. He made his intentions known by grinding her bottom back against his pelvis.
Writhing, she managed to choke out a "no", trying to distance herself.
His eyes flashed dangerously, and the moment she regained a back-to-the-mattress position, he was on her, pinning her down, hands holding her beside her head. He was close to snarling. She felt the heaviness of dread in her stomach; passion had allowed her to forget how dangerous a man Gaara was. She fumbled with an explination.
"N-not…not like that," she gasped out, squirming against him, half in fear and half in pleasure. "F-face-to-face. I want to see you. Please, Gaara…"
He relaxed against her, lifting his weight off slightly. She sat up and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and running it along his. Coaxing gently, she got him to slowly lower himself to lie between her thighs. Then he was probing again, fingers pressing and rubbing against her slick folds. Her head tossed from side to side, pink hair flying.
He was pressing something else against her seconds later, sliding it into her easily and quickly, and she gasped at the sudden feeling. It didn't hurt, but she wasn't sure what to do; should she cry or moan or stay silent? When he first started thrusting into her, she decided that she didn't really know if she liked it or not. A few strokes later, and she was calling his name in throaty, disjointed syllables.
The tightening in her belly increased with each thrust. Her legs twitched, then finally settled for wrapping around his waist. Her back arched off the bed, arms pulled his chest flush to hers. His mouth devoured hers. She came hard, muscles spasming around him, clenching tight, so tight, and she heard him moan deeply, nearly loosing himself.
When Sakura opened her eyes, he was still moving, his eyes locked onto hers, his mouth hanging slack. Her passage was even more sensitive now, and she vocalized a string of whimpery moans, biting her lip and bucking.
"Look at what you do to me!" he hissed, engulfing her in a kiss, sucking her lip hard, then biting it gently.
His measured tempo turned into erratic bucking and jerking. Sweat stood out in a sheen on their bodies. The air was heavy with heat and musk Gaara's eyes slipped closed, and Sakura traced the coal-black smudges with her thumbs before dropping her arms. Watching him straining and shaking above her, looking so open and warm and unlike the person she knew he would still be when this was all over made her heart clench and her lips turn up in a smile.
He'll still be a jerk, but now I'll have some power over him…She'd have power all right; she could tell that she wouldn't be able to live without this now that she had it, and from the looks of things, neither would he.
All thought broke into a million pieces as she came again. He thrust hard, twice, then, his entire body clenching, finally found his own release. Moaning, he went limp and laid down against her, tucking his head into the valley between her breasts. His red hair tickled her chin. Her fingers stroked lightly over his sweaty back.
She smiled wider.
Sunlight hit her full force in the face, and she started awake. The open window allowed a warm breeze to move the curtains about. Sakura stretched, and grinned when the arm around her waist tightened.
She turned her gaze to Gaara, loving the peaceful, contemplative look that hung about his usually cold and aloof face. She knew he hadn't been sleeping – Shukaku would cause problems if he did, he'd told her once – and her grin widened even more.
"Been watching me sleep?" He rumbled in response and ran a hand through his hair. "Stalker."
"I don't think you mind," he replied.
In reply, she turned fully to press the length of her body along his, and kissed him long and deep. "What, again, woman?" He let himself grin when she pulled back.
She stuck her tongue out and made a face. "You've got terrible morning breath."
"And you're horribly grouchy in the morning."
As she lost herself in the sheets and his arms and his kiss, she vaguely recalled that someone had said the same thing to her once before.
And...viola. It's over. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. All that's left is waiting for randomsome1 to read it and give me a after-initial-post BETA-ing. She's already pointed out so much that I goofed with, so I'm going to get my butt into gear and edit things at some point or another.
ASweetKissFromPoisonedLips: Yeah, you got it down
alright. Sasuke'd been gone from his body for a while. And, as you can
see, Gaara was just being a litlte dramatic when he thought it would be
the last time he let her get close. ;-)
Jokester: O-O OMG YES. Your joke had me snickering in demented glee.
And to everyone else who gave me the requested joke - thanks. They were just what I needed.
Thank you so very much for sticking with me and reading this, whether or not you gave me feedback. I appreciate it all the same. I love each and every one of you.
Until next time.