The Truth About Fire and Ashes

A/N: The future of an update that is soon is in question, so hang in there. But, I have good news. (No, Geico has nothing to do with it) This chapter has the most dialogue of them all between Gaara and Sakura. Yay for dialogue! ahem Sorry...Anyway...
Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I can't stress it enough.

Ch.4

Gaara knew that she would figure out the jist of what really happened. Not that he cared. Closing his eyes, scenes sprung from the depths of his mind from that night.
He didn't say a word as he walked down the hallway towards the girl's room, a looming figure in the darkness. In spite of it, Gaara was calmly at the mouth of the hallway, and not wanting Sakura to get involved, his sand quickly consumed the person's mouth as it swayed violently and tossed him into the wall. Gaara took several steps backward for defensive measure, his sand already racing to Sakura's door. When the figure slumped to the ground, back pressed to the wall, Gaara couldn't help but growl softly,

The boy looked up, a sick smile on his face as he stood up, hunched over and breathing heavy from the blow. His eyes, glittering an unnatural golden color, they're attention was drawn away from Gaara and in that second the Sand nin saw Sakura standing there. Reacting quickly, the sand grabbed a board from the cabinet and chucked it at her, knocking her unconscious.
He didn't understand her, and why she was so concerned about this boy who wanted to kill her...or worse. But he also didn't understand, either, why he didn't want her to see Sasuke. Or know.
After making futile dashes around the kitchen as the sand crushed the walls and everything else in an attempt to catch him, Sasuke escaped through the window, shattering it. Gaara, after a moment, walked steadily to the window to find Sasuke moan in pain as something burst from his back. Taking advantage of the situation, Gaara set sand trickling to the Leaf traitor, knowing it was snugly in his pocket as he got away.
More time passed, and one night he decided to follow where the sand had gone.
His thoughts were interrupted by a tak, the sound of a footstep on the tiled roof. And suddenly, Gaara knew why he did not want her to know. He almost couldn't look at her as she stood there, hand over her chest, features distorted. He almost moved as she came closer, stopping at four feet distance.
He almost didn't want to believe he cared about how her hopes in Sasuke, as she fell to her knees, how if that hope was erased -
She would stop. Everything.
Sakura refused to cry, even though in her eyes he saw she might've been, and how the wind, though it carried no more sand, dirtied her wispy hair. Silence coated the air and pressed down upon them, and for a moment, the world could've stopped spinning and they would only notice the two birds interweaving above them.
Strips of petal colored hair shielded her eyes as Sakura said,
I...I wish I knew.
Gaara's eyes flicked to their corners, cloudy.
You don't.
Gaara...I...I'm sorry. But... She looked up, not meeting his gaze. His arms were not crossed. Maybe, this time, she should believe him. She just had to know one last thing. Is he...did you...? He frowned, a curve an artist would draw.


Gaara did not want her to leave, but he did nothing to suggest her to stay. The truth was, he couldn't kill him. He did not know or understand why, so instead, he tried to kill Orochimaru. He could not, of course.
There was a lot of things, since Sakura came, he could not do.
On her own she stood up and walked, and he thought that maybe, maybe, she would see that it wasn't Sasuke who she leaned on to take those steps.

Sakura did not have dinner waiting when he stepped inside that evening, the paper bag on the floor, untouched. Gaara's eyes narrowed, black rims sculpted around them following suit of the tense muscles in his cheeks.

It was just dusk when Sakura heard her door open, the click not enough to arouse her from lying on her side. Even though it was a hazy dark, she could feel his shadow embrace her, and yet he felt far away, for she could not feel him at all. After a few moments she rolled over, cautiously, and found the small hole in her wall letting in the orange, reddish light in a concentrated shape and area, soaking Gaara's face in color.
What is it? She formed words on her lips, dry.
You haven't made dinner.
I'm...I'm not hungry. She paused and smiled fakely, a bit. I'm on a diet.
I'm hungry. He persisted. The sand hissed around him. And so are you.
She rolled back over, the mattress squeaking in protest. He left swiftly and quietly.

He came back, the sand setting the bag of food on her mattress. She strained her neck and looked over her shoulder at the parcel, and then at him, who leaned against the wall with his head tilted away, arms crossed in his signature position. He lay away from the square of reds and oranges, and resided in misty shadow.
A bird called outside, slicing through the thick, eerily air.
We're both hungry, aren't we? She inquired dully, head dipped low, sitting up.
Gaara didn't answer her.

Sakura's dreams were haunting that night. She dreamt of a desert with tall, scorched black towers, with thick, white water that was tumbling down dirtied gutters that were only licked by flames. She was trapped, paralyzed, unable to move in her own body. The gutters burst apart, and the milky water kept coming, and coming, until it consumed her, whiteness that seemed so dark.
And then, in a milk white mirror, she saw herself, blotches of her eaten away by the murk. Her reflection was blind, the whites of her eyes hurting her own, and she was stumbling, going nowhere. Sakura herself tried to run, but she was drowning, drowning, and she reached for someone, something, and saw Gaara and his coal eyes.
But his eyes were white.
She sat up, sweating, eyes wide. Breathing a sigh of relief, and feeling something next to her, she whipped her head around to find Gaara standing there. She gasped, struggling against her blanket, her heart beating against her ribcage like a captured bird. Just as she was about to stand, sand cradled her forcefully into the air as he spoke,
A nightmare. It's only a nightmare. Sakura couldn't tell if he was mocking her or comforting her, or neither. But with each sway closer to the ground she began to feel calmer. Finally she felt solid beneath her feet, and she scratched her neck awkwardly.

There could've been danger. The mission entailed I come.

They stood. And stood.
Uh...I'm kind of tired. She offered lamely. Gaara, however, did not know this type of situation was considered uncomfortable. His brow knit together tightly.
No, you're not. He knew, atleast, what nightmares were. Only to him, they were rare, and they were his dreams. If by nightmares people meant Sabaku.
How do you know? Don't you...I mean... Her weight shifted, emphasizing her insecurity. She was worried, he was sure, and she was walking on eggshells around him. Not like before.
He was angry, for a reason that switched from why he cared (and he didn't,) to a reason why she was being so...delicate, as if he were like glass she was handling.
I'm sorry. Sakura whispered. She was always good at hiding what she felt. It's what she did.
Don't. Just stop. He said unusually, then he clutched his head, tugging at his hair.
Ripping tenderly.
He turned to leave, when she took a step forward.
No, wait Gaara. I'm...I'm not really tired.
He turned around, knowing she couldn't see his expression. His hand slipped over his forehead, over the mark engraved there. Somehow he found the wall and leaned against it, as Sakura sat on her cheap mattress, the covers astray. He watched her brace herself, as if she was teasing a snare about to snap.
Why don't you sleep? He choose not to respond. I...I want to know about it...I want to know, Gaara. Why can't you tell me? I know...your terrifying. You scare me. But you know...I think that's okay. Because Sasuke, he scares me too. Even Naruto sometimes. I think it's okay, because it's the fact that you've given the effort to scare me, you've already shown me...you've already shown me you care to some degree, atleast a little, a small bit.
He looked at her hard, the veil of darkness difficult to penetrate. You're wrong. I care about only myself. I have a monster inside me I have become.
But...if you're such a monster...Gaara?
It took him a second to process she wanted him to respond.
Just now...weren't you?
He left without reply, hand shaking as he went.
He was ripping. He was ripping apart so tenderly.

So, do you prefer the cream, or the light blue? Sakura held up the different paint cans. He frowned and looked away. Oh come on, you can't even pick this out? She scolded, setting them down. He said icily in a tone that would frighten many,
I don't care.
Ignoring him, her hands settled on her hips as she examined the walls. I guess it can wait. I have to patch the walls up first. Alright, where's that hammer...
Sand came in a wave and brought it to her. Smiling a bit, her mouth opened to thank him, but he was gone. Sakura reached to pick up some nails, overturning a dry board to find them. Not successful, she overturned another, reaching down gratefully.
Things weren't always where she thought they were.