Disclaimer: Plot lines and sex scenes from 'Captive Angel' by Deana James. Characters and settings from "Naruto" belong to: Masashi Kishimoto

A/N: Before reading... If for some reason you find you didn't like this story, please post in reviews what turned you off. Each comment and criticism is part of the learning process for a next time. Special thanks to rainyrhapsody for supporting with the editing of this document.

Disclaimer: This story will not be used for financial profit. Characters and settings borrowed from "Naruto" belong to: Masashi Kishimoto. Some scenes and plot lines were used or altered from romance novel : Captive Angel by Deana James

Warnings: Hetero,Yaoi, Angst, near death experience, some more to come.

The story starts after 11 years of marriage.

Ino is 28
Gaara is 29

Chapter 1

From the warm darkness that surrounded them, her short breathy gasp gave them away.

"Gaara," she protested faintly. "If we are too loud…ah, Heero will wake up."

"Come here, puppet." He whispered lovingly his endearment. With a low growl, he rolled over on her, guiding himself in between her legs, pulling her rounded knee up over his hip.

Immersed in his musk cologne scent, she lifted her hips in heated invitation. Her fingernails dug and scratched angry red lines across the back of his contracted shoulders' muscles.

His eyes, silently worshiping her sexual facial reactions, glazed before he brushed his thumb against her bruised raspberry lower lip. Shortly after, he groaned. His breath dampened her light golden brow, and his firm lips dropped soft kisses against each of her eyelids leaving a heated trail towards the smooth skin behind her right ear, where he gently nibbled and suckled on her soft spot. She shivered when his teeth grazed her sensitive skin.

"Ah , so good," he murmured silkily as he filled her. His hands cupped her breasts, weighing their double handfuls of firm soft flesh, squeezing and flicking his thumbs over the hardened peaks.

"That's it love," he encouraged her. "Soft. Warm." The words matched the rhythm of his strokes.

Deliberately, he bit the skin behind her ear and groaned as her muscles convulsed from the small pain. Her hands slid around his neck to clasp him tighter; her thighs hooked above his waist and pulled him deeper into her.

The hard bones of his pelvis pressed down, against her navel and mound. "Gaara" she moaned. "You're hurting…"

His hands wrapped around her silken blond hair and he tighten his grip while crushing his lips against her.

"…Mine," he growled. Like an angry demon, he tossed back his head as he locked his elbows to support himself on his hands. His arms extended at full stretch while he bore down on her as he drove forward harder. "Give in," he prompted. His jaw set in his efforts to check himself.

She rolled her head from side to side on the pillow and arched her back to accommodate him. Perspiration gleamed on her forehead. She cried out sharply.

"My sweet puppet," he whispered, sinking down, his face buried in the pillow beside her head.

During midnight, the blooming Moonflower's essence lingered in the back of their room by the open window. Perhaps because of the rising gusts of wind, its faint traces were trailing indoors. They brought Ino back to consciousness with memories from her childhood. She could hear the small "pit" "pat" in the background. Good. A little rain would cool things off.

Gaara mumbled something in his sleep before stirring. He slowly pulled back relieving her of his weight. She could feel his passion in her and in between her legs. Her skin felt chilled where his arm and thigh left her exposed.

Outside, the quickening drops of rain spattered against the broad magnolia leaves. With a little shiver, she sat up and reached for the covers pushed carelessly to the end of the bed.

She stared at the window, suddenly feeling nostalgic.

"Cold?" His voice came from her back, deep and warm against her skin.

She laid down and turned back into his arms, dragging the edge of the sheet with her. "The rain…"

Rearing up next to her, he glanced at her strangely. "I'll warm you," he mumbled and pushed the sheet away. She gently traced the "love" tattoo on his forehead.

"For heaven's sake," she chuckled softly.

Tempted to respond, but changing his mind, his eyes cleared and he cupped the back of her head. "Kiss me again Puppet."

It was very early in the morning, when her eyes fluttered open. With the sheet tucked decently across her breasts, she watched him put on a fishnet top over his upper body. Her eyes traced all over his marked skin as she remembered last night's loving behind them. It had been awhile since the last time they had sex like yesterday. Maybe too long, if she had forgotten how his muscles and red mane still excited her. Lustful blue eyes followed the small birthmark on his right butt cheek satisfied.

He was taller and only a little bit thicker through the middle than when she had married him eleven years ago. She stirred uncomfortably in her bed at the thought of her own extra flesh.

A tiny frown marred her forehead as she watched him pull his Jounin vest from the back of their closet and on the bed.

"Are you active again?" she hazarded surprised. She definitely would have remembered him telling her that, since last time had been years ago.

Gaara paused in collecting his shaving razors and treasured weapons from his belongings. "Yes." He did not turned toward her. Instead, he glanced at her reflection in the mirror, then looked away when their eyes met.

"Why didn't you tell me? We should've talked about it." Ino sighed. "I'll get ready and walk you to the gate. "

He tossed the items into a bag. "Don't bother."

She caught the edge of the sheet and sat up. "Why not?"

"Because I'm meeting the Hokage, then heading right out." Taking a deep breath, he turned and took his long red coat from the wardrobe. It was not his best coat, but an old one she remembered from when they met. Back then, it went down all the way to his ankles and had an upright collar. Though now it seemed to only cover him up to his knees and he was missing his gourd.

"Where are you going?" she asked curious.

"To Rock Country."

The simple words stopped her cold. She could not comprehend their meaning. "Rock…Country? For how long?" What could he be thinking of, accepting a long distance mission now? He knew this time of year, was the busiest for the shop, especially with the festival approaching. No, no responsible store owner of any product or size would leave for even a few days.

"A year, maybe two if things get complicated."

Befuddled, she waved a hand helplessly. "But…"

Still avoiding her eyes, he zipped up his vest before plucking her purple silk robe off the chair and tossing it to her. "Put this on and come to the living room, Ino Yamanaka. We have to talk."

He had called her by her given name. He never called her Ino Yamanaka unless she had done something terribly wrong. It was moments like this she wished she had kept up training and developing her jutsus. Maybe along with entering somebody's body, she could someday see into their mind. If only she could tell what he was thinking?

Chills ran along her spine as she heard his steps down the hall, heard him open the door to their son's room, and heard her son's voice. The sheet fell to her waist where she clutched at with both hands, pressing her fist into her midriff.

The clouds still lowered, although the rain had ceased for the moment. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she climbed down from the high bed.

With robe in hand, she moved to look at her nude body in the glass. Hastily, she slid her arms into the purple silk and tied it firmly at the waist. Her lip curled in disappointment as she tried to smooth the material over the bulges of belly, hips and thighs. When she had married Gaara and even after Heero's birth she had been almost too slim. Now she stared at the results of months of neglect after the tragic loss of her baby daughter.

Sighing, she turned her attention to her hair. Her long blonde hair hung down her back in tangles. She reached for her brush from the dressing table, swung the heavy trends to her left shoulder and began to brush it smooth. The loose sleeves of her robe fell back from her plump white arms. Sakura's childhood nickname for her had never been more fitting, she mused bitterly.

A low knock came before she was half finished.

"Yes?"

"Mama?" called the soft, voice of her adored son, Heero, who summoned her. "Father is waiting."

Ino shot a look of pure dislike at the reflection in the mirror before dropping the brush noisily. "Just tell him I'll be right there."

A rubber band would have to do. She searched through the mess in the middle drawer of the dresser until she found a white one. Finally, As she tied her hair in a ponytail, she grimaced at her reflection. Morning was not her best time. With no sleep the night before, she would not have looked beautiful even ten years ago.

Gaara was not in the kitchen, although it seemed he and Heero had already eaten. She poured herself a cup of green tea, carrying it and the saucer into the living room.

"You're slow, Mother," Heero accused rudely.

"Mind your manners," she snapped.

The boy said nothing, but his lip thrust out stubbornly.

"Sit down, Ino," Gaara advised. He rested his hand on the back of the covered sofa.

Her robe fell open, exposing one plump knee as she struggled with the opening and the cup and saucer.

"Really, Gaara, why all the rushing?" she demanded curiously. "I'm not even dressed."

He watched her grimly as she arranged the robe over her limbs and balanced the teacup in her lap. Yamanaka looked at him uncertainly. "Are we going to argue, Gaara? I'm not in the mood"

He continued as if he had not heard her. "This isn't working."

She looked at him uncertainly, "What do you mean?"

"Us,"

Ino shot a wary glance at their son, whose dark teal eyes, fastened alertly on his father's face. "Go get another plate, Heero," she interrupted.

"No."

Gaara sighed. "Go on, Heero." When the boy had exited, he cleared his throat again. Shoulders squared, chest out, he rocked forward on his toes. "We're not right for each other anymore."

She took a deep hot breath. The cup rattled in the saucer as her hand shook. She set it hastily aside. "Why would you say that? We've scraped along rather well together for the last eleven years. I've been a good wife and mother. We have everything that any two people could possibly want."

He shook his head. "You have everything you want, Ino Yamanaka. I have nothing."

"I would not have thought so last night." she reminded him dryly.

The color rose in his lightly tanned cheeks. He took a deep breath. Hands at his side, his head thrown back in a look of stubborn defiance, he announced the words in a stride.

"I am leaving and Heero is coming with me. Heero is becoming more like you every day, but he needs to grow up and survive as a shinobi. For that he needs to see and understand the world beyond Konoha, beyond the shop."

Ino sat up straighter, staring incredulously at her husband. "He's only ten years old!"

"Exactly. Perfect age for a Genin in a B level mission to- "

"A 'B' level mission?!" She shook her head in bewilderment. "Do you hear yourself, Gaara?"

"He's coming with me" he repeated.

For several slow seconds she stared up into her Gaara's face, wondering when he would give in and confess to be pulling her leg. But she knew that was beyond his personality. That kind of behavior suited Naruto more, her sometimes foolish, soon-to-be Hokage. At the best of times, Gaara would only allow the tips of his lips to curve upwards as he would kiss his wife's forehead.

But he did nothing of the sort. The blood began to pound in her temples. Desperately, she reached for the handle of the green tea cup in an attempt to raise it to her lips. It shook so badly that the liquid slopped over the rim into the saucer. She set it back down again.

Turning away, Gaara stalked over to the window to stare outward at the dark wet expanse of their garden. "...since the baby died, we've both changed."

Her hands were shaking so badly that she pressed them down between her thighs. Her eyes closed briefly as she nodded. Her voice was low. "it's because I can't ever have any more children."

He turned around. "You don't know that."

"I know," she insisted.

"Instead of grieving and moving on with your life, all you've done since then, is to sit inside moping, drinking and feeling sorry for yourself."

"I almost died," she reminded him. He flinched as his own memories of the event surfaced. But he looked at her determined.

"Many women die in childbirth... You survived. As a former kunoichi; death should be expected, it is because we accept our mortality that we strive to live with purpose," he expressed mercilessly. "Yet you fear to live. To exist for no reason is the same as being dead"

"It's just that I-I can't have any more children," she repeated dumbly.

"I never cared about that."

The tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I care," she whispered

"You have a son." he appealed.

"I'm an only child and I hate it."

His eyes narrowed in anger. "You sit around and cry about the things you can't change. When something does not go your way you break down again."

"I can't help it." Still sobbing, she fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. The robe fell open across her knees, exposing her thighs. The handkerchief fell to the floor as she clutched at the robe. Her face, wet from crying, now reddened even brighter with embarrassment.

"You are not the woman I married. She was a spirited and positive kunoichi" In a couple of quick strides, he crossed the room and caught her by the arm. "Up," he commanded.

"No." She jerked her arm away.

"Yes." Once unleashed, his resentment turned cruel. Catching her under the arm, he pulled her to her feet and led her over to the mirror. "Take a hard look. Are you spirited? Are you positive?"

Sobbing bitterly, she wrenched herself out of his hands and stumbled away. "How dare you? Why are you doing this!" she yelled.

Gaara followed her, merciless as the very devil. The resentment he had built up over the past months poured out, despite his watching over her trembling body.

"All you ever wanted was someone to run your family's flower shop and give you a litter of children. I was a mule half the time and a beast the rest."

"Gaara…," she pleaded.

But he went on, unstoppable once his feelings were unleashed. "Then when that baby died, you didn't even want me for a beast anymore. Our relationship died with the baby."

"Gaara!" She glanced hastily around her in a painful discomfort.

He raised his voice even louder. "I gave up Suna for you, but I am a shinobi. And by Kami-sama, I'm going to live and eventually die from it."

As he swung away from her, she managed to catch the end of his vest. "What about me?" she whispered hoarsely.

He looked down at her with a mixture of pity and anger. "You don't need me," he insisted. "Anyone will do. You don't love me."

She gaped at him. "I do, I do." She shook her head wildly. Her fingernails sank like talons into the vest.

He bent to pry one of her hands loose.

"You never did. You only want a man to do your work."

"How can you say I don't love you? After all these years?" she cried desperately as he managed to disengage her hands and drag her to her feet by her wrist. His kohl-rimmed eyes pierced through her.

"Like I said, we both changed. Where were you these last three years when Heero and I needed you?"

She cried out then and tugged herself away from him. "I was hurt. I couldn't bear to… I didn't think I would ever… You don't understand how I feel."

Icy green eyes froze her on her place. "And you don't care about how I felt."

She huddled on the sofa, her shoulders shaking. The robe had become more disarrayed with her struggles. Her skin was too pale and tiny dimples showed in the flesh of her thigh. He waited for a minute, staring at her. His lip curled in distaste at her disarray. The coffee table clock stuck the half hour. They both flinched.

She flung up her head to glance at it fearfully, then back at him. He tugged at his clothes. "I have to go." He took a quick step toward the door.

"Wait. Just one more minute. Gaara, listen to me! I lov-" His dispassionate look stopped her. She dropped her hands into her lap and took a deep breath. "Okay. I won't make you late," she breathed. "Only, please let's talk about it when -when the mission is over."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe it's time, we should both be free to pursue our own paths," he suggested.

"No," she gasped. "No. I don't desire any other path but to be your wife and Heero's… Oh Kami-sama

Heero's mother. Please don't take my baby to Rock Country, Gaara."

"I'll not leave him here to let you turn him into a florist."

She struggled to her feet. "He can continue training to be a shinobi here in Konoha, just request for him to be reassigned to a new team. He is quick and bright, I'm sure-"

"Ino- my mind is set."

"But he is just a little boy. He might get hurt… He may be used as a target against you, you know how these missions go, and if you are cornered by enemy shinobi-you are not being reasonable. He is still just our little boy…"

"No, I'm not, Mother. I'm older. I am as big as Father was when he was Genin." Heero planted himself into the room and planted himself with feet apart, by his father's side.

"Heero," Gaara put a hand on his son's shoulder. "The adults are speaking."

His son looked up excitedly "Father, I'm ready."

Ino held out trembling arms to her son. "C-come here," she begged.

He stared at her. For an instant, his face crumpled, then he shook his head vigorously. "Dad and I are leaving. I am going with him."

She blinked back new tears. "I know, sweetheart. I know. Your father told me."

"And you're not mad?"

"N-No. I'm not really mad. I'm just…I'll miss you terribly. I won't see you grow up. You'll be gone for so very long."

"But I'll be learning many new techniques and how to be a man. Father said if I train hard enough I could be a Kazekage like uncle Kankurou." Realizing that his mother was not going to beg him to stay, he relaxed slightly. He pulled his lower lip back in and smiled.

The smile cut through Ino like a knife. The only child she would ever have was smiling his beautiful smile at her. In another minute he would be gone perhaps forever. When he returned, he would no longer be her little boy. But a young teenager. He would be older, taller, his voice might have changed, and his body would have probably lost its little-boy look. And she would not have been with him to see it. She clamped a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Go hug your mother," Gaara bade him, giving him a slight push at the shoulder. "Go on," Gaara said sternly.

"My baby," she whispered and she held him tightly to her with reluctance to part.

"Don't cry Mama. We'll be back, when did you say, Father? In a year?"

"If all goes well." Gaara nodded, not looking at his wife.

Heero turned back to flash his mother a charming smile. With a smothered cry, she caught him by the shoulder and kissed him hard on the mouth, then on both cheeks.

"Moooom!" He drew back, pushing his small hands against her shoulder. As Gaara opened the door, he dashed through it and out into the hall.

As she pressed her shaking hands to her mouth, she heard her son's shoes thudding down the steps.

"Good-bye, Ino Yamanaka."

She did not answer. She couldn't, the pain in her chest was so great that she could scarcely breathe. She sank back on the sofa, turning her shoulder to him.

Gaara turned and hesitated by the door. His hand gripped the knob and for a second he opened his lips to say something else… but shook his head instead and went out, closing the door silently behind him.