Disclaimers: Characters are not mine.

Rating: T for implied adult-teenager relationship & mild gore.

A/N (2009): Was reading through some of my old fics, and…well. I'm appalled. D:

This is an edited version of the original. Story's still the same; I'm only polishing it again. Guys, thanks for reading and reviewing this story. Seriously, your reviews have been so much encouragement to me.

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She had said that her heart belonged to him, right?

Well, he was possessive. He wouldn't let those other men take her heart away. She was his and his alone.

He cradled the body gently, and carried it as though it was the most fragile thing that ever existed; and if he as much as shook it, it would break.

The moon cast a dim, ethereal glow upon him as he strolled to his workshop. His black robes rustled gently as he brushed against some bushes. He reached the door of the workshop and heaved the body over his shoulder, and performed a complicated hand seal which opened the heavy steel door. He put the body onto a small cot and stared at it. His gaze lingered on her face, and travelled down her body. He glanced at her lovingly, like a mother looking upon her babe, and pulled reluctantly away to shut the door.

If a person were to stand behind the door, he would have heard the sharp trill of a saw, the clink of needles and the hammering of nails and hinges. But there wouldn't be anybody, because if there were, he would have heard. And then he would have ran out and struck them dead, because nobody, absolutely nobody, was going to interrupt his final act to his lover.

A sky washed with oranges and pinks signalled daylight. Warm rays of sunlight kissed his calloused, trembling fingers and soothed them like a salve. He was tired, but happy, for he hadn't been this pleased for months- no, years. He picked up his creation gently and gave it a small, chaste kiss on the lips. The smell of wood shavings in the air mixed with the metallic tang of blood, and his love.

When Deidara visited him in the workshop that day, he asked about the new puppet that was lying on the cot. He just smiled and touched the puppet's soft hair tenderly.

He had her heart.

He was her possessor, and she, his possession.

The final act was completed. It was all over now.