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~ Chapter 6 ~

Righting

"It's beautiful…" Hinata gasped as Temari opened the long brown box. "Are you sure this is for me? It's…It must have cost…"

Temari just smiled and shook her head at the girl sitting and starring incredulously at Gaara's gift. Temari took the fabric out of the box and shook it, letting the silk breath out its wrinkles. Fortunately the garment hadn't been in the box long enough to form any creases. Temari approached Hinata and held the fabric of the sari up to her shoulder.

Yes, she nodded, satisfied, the lusterous burgundy of the fabric with the gold embroidery on the hem complimented Hinata's dark hair and pale eyes, making her ivory skin take on a rosy glow from the richness of the fabric's color. It would look beautiful on her. It was also Gaara's favorite color. Temari smirked. I am the best sister who's ever lived, she thought.

Hinata watched transfixed as Temari revealed the long yards of fabric.

"What is it?" she asked, beguiled with the mystery of how this fabric was supposed to fit on her body.

"It's called a sari and it's the traditional dress of the Buras that live in the south western province of Suna. I thought it might compliment your hair."

"It does," Hinata commented looking in the mirror. "I'm surprised. I never would have picked these colors out for myself…that is…I mean…I'm glad you did!"

Hinata glanced again at her reflection in the large mirror to her right. They were in Temari's suite preparing for the Tanabata festivities. After her last "meeting" with Gaara Hinata had not heard from, nor had she the guts to seek him out and apologize properly for her behavior.

In misery she waited for some signal from him that they could resume a normal working relationship. Hence her surprise when Gaara had sent her a special messenger three days before with a note instructing her to be here at this date and time to prepare for the festival. She had not even entertained the thought that he would still want her to attend it with him. In the note he had written that he had a gift for her. Hinata realized that this must be it. It certainly put the off the rack dress that she had bought that morning to shame.

Temari handed Hinata the blouse that went with the dress and watched her stand and pull it over her head. Once she was done, Temari began to wrap the fabric around her hips. They both stood in silence as Temari folded the fabric into pleats.

"Ano…Temari-san?" Hinata broke the stillness with her hesitant question. Temari looked up at her.

"Thank you," Hinata said, smiling shyly. Temari smiled as she completed securing the skirt. Hinata watched in the reflection as the tall blond girl grabbed the loose end of cloth that was apparently supposed to wrap up and over her torso. Hinata was glad about this addition, for the blouse that she had on did nothing to cover her midriff. Firm as her muscles were from long years of hard training, Hinata was used to much more conservative dress. She found it hard to believe that this was polite fashion, but she trusted Temari's judgement. Besides, there were other more pressing questions weighing on Hinata's mind.

"Temari-san…" Temari looked over her shoulder in the mirror and Hinata blushed when she met her eyes and averted her gaze. There was something that Hinata needed to ask the older girl.

"You can drape the end that goes over your arm," Temari instructed her. "When eating I recommend you do this so it doesn't get in your way."

"Thank you," Hinata mumbled again, and then swallowed. If she wanted an answer to her question, Hinata figured that she better ask it now.

Otherwise she would have to ask Gaara, and somehow the idea of asking the Kazekage anything seemed far more intimidating, especially considering the subject of her current inquiry.

"Um…Sorry," Hinata said as Temari looked at her again, her expression blank. She must be getting annoyed with me, I better just say it, Hinata resolved. "Is it…Does every…Ah…I can't imagine that…Shikamaru-san got such treatment when he was liaison to Suna?"

Ha, I only wish he would let me dress him. Slob, Temari thought. But instead of saying that she asked,

"What do you mean?"

"Well…I can't…I don't…" Hinata sighed and licked her lips, why was this so hard for her to say? "I was so rude to Kazekage-sama the other day, and I realize that this isn't his favorite holiday, but I'm just wondering…"

"…You're just wondering why he invited you?" Temari kindly finished Hinata's halting sentence.

"Yeah," Hinata said, her finger tips finding each other.

"Do you know much about how my brother grew up, Hinata-san?"

Hinata looked up at Temari.

"A little…" Hinata said. "I know that he was a jinchuriki, like Naruto. I know that…there were many attempts on his life." Hinata said, refraining from mentioning that it was the sand sibling's own father who had ordered those attempts. Temari needed no reminder of that fact.

"I can…well…" Hinata continued. "Perhaps I should put it this way, I used to watch Naruto when I was young. I was really shy. Too afraid to actually speak with nearly anyone, imagine that? But that didn't stop me from watching. I…it was horrible, how people treated Naruto-kun…I can only imagine that for Gaara it was much the same…probably worse," Hinata finished, softly.

Hinata glanced back at Temari's reflection in the mirror. Temari's jaw was set, her face immobile. Hinata looked away again, a little embarrassed that she had said so much, and in the dash of her gaze the wetness in the corners of her pale eyes was not lost on the Temari.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Temari said finally, explaining this would be much easier than she thought it would be. "It's very hard for Gaara to communicate with people because of that, Hinata-san. He's okay with directives. You know, 'do this, do that,' which is why he can be a leader. But, anything more complex or…emotional and he just…it's like he doesn't have the vocabulary."

Hinata nodded. What Temari said made sense, but she still hadn't explained to her why Gaara had…

"Oh?" Hinata's jaw dropped, her eyebrows knitting in thought. An idea had just occurred to her. She looked back up at Temari who was watching the play of realization draw out through her expressions. Could it be the Gaara…was interested in her?

"No..."Hinata uttered, disbelieving.

"Oh, yes," Temari nodded and grabbed Hinata's shoulders and gently turned her around until they were standing face to face, the shorter girl blushing like a school girl.

"Hinata-chan," Temari said, boldly using the intimate suffix. "If you…don't like my brother, let him know. He won't be happy, but he's a big boy now. He'll deal with it. But, if there's some chance that you might be interested in him, please be patient. Remember where he's coming from."

"Thank you…I think I will," Hinata said softly.

Temari smiled, when she first met Hinata she thought that the pale eyed kunoichi was a little dense. But as she got know her she realized that her stuttering and hesitance concealed a keen mind guided by an exceedingly gentle and humble nature. Perceptive as Hinata was about other people, it was hard to believe that someone so kind could be a ninja. Only in Konoha, Temari thought to herself.

"Thank you," Temari said. "Now let's talk about make-up."

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Gaara looked down at the assembled company on the plaza below him. It was traditional for those who attended Suna's annual Tanabata feast to first watch the acrobats out in the square. It was one of those rare moments when Suna's elite and the so-called "common" people mixed together freely, or at least so the more high minded democrats described it.

From where Gaara was perched however, he could see the mass of dignitaries and wealthy water and land owners forming a dense protective knot near the steps to Suna's civic hall, the main administrative and conference building where the feast was held, and where Gaara's offices and suite were located.

As he watched the well-dressed unpleasant people who he would soon by speaking with, he silently wished a hoard of pick pockets upon them. Knowing Suna's juvenile gypsy population, they were already hard at work. This thought made a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

But this consideration was not the only thing that occupied his interest. Gaara was scanning the crowd for someone else. Hinata's hair, dark as it was, was proving difficult to find in the crowd now that the sun had slipped behind the high walls of the city. Instead Gaara looked for his sister, whose bright blond hair made her an easy mark. He spotted her, standing near the front of the crowd watching a pair of fire jugglers. Hinata was nowhere in sight.

Gaara frowned. Had she decided not to come after all? He wasn't sure if he felt relieved by that prospect or disappointed. Gaara used busyness as an excuse for not seeking her out or requesting her presence after their last ill fated meeting.

Truthfully, he was…anxious, but he hated admitting vulnerability and so he occupied himself with other things. Now, as an unfamiliar sinking feeling clenched at his stomach, he wished he had not turned her away that night, or had at least made some time to meet with her since then.

It couldn't be helped. Gaara turned from the cooling air of the desert night and strolled back into his office. He must get dressed. He was probably going to be late as it was.

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Hinata shifted her weight again nervously. A combination of boredom, dread and anticipation rolled over her in alternating waves. Was Gaara really interested in her?

It seemed so unbelievable. Her mind kept on reviewing the handful of times that she had spent with him before coming to Suna. Mostly they involved hanging out with him and Naruto, with the exception of their private tea over a year ago. Their interactions had always been polite but taciturn. With most of the minimalist conversation performed by Hinata herself.

Perhaps this was all some weird joke that Temari was playing on her. She didn't seem the type, Hinata reasoned, but her mind was wound tight. It spun wildly between scenarios of how the night might unfold to paranoia that the whole thing was some sort of silly game that the Sand siblings were playing with her.

She thrust a finger through the velvet curtains and peered into the low-lit courtyard beyond. The courtyard had been set for the banquet, with round, low tables surrounded by plush cushions.

Women and men, some from the ninja class, many from the merchant class, and still other foreign dignataries sat in wait, sipping cool mint yogurt drinks and dark wine. No one had yet been served, it was traditional, Temari had explained to her, to wait until the Kage had arrived. He was late.

Gaara watched her from the shadowed rostrum on the floor above. The area where he was standing had once been used for speechs and sermons back in the old times, when the building had first been constructed.

Hinata stood in the room below, the burgundy of her sari gripping her hips, but not concealing the small of her back. He stared captivated by the sway of her movement as she shifted from foot to foot in her slippers.

Gaara could practically taste her impatience, and the annoyance of the people waiting in the hall beyond, but he found his feet immobile. It was a feeling foreign to him; he was a not a man known for hesitation. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

Gaara thought back to all the fantasies he had of this woman, all seemed half-formed and ill conceived, more emotion and lust than substance. They were childish he admitted to himself. This was now. She was real. Not only did the night's proceeding have personal ramifications for him and her, they also had political ones. They both represented in their own way powerful groups of people.

He wondered, not for the first time, if it had been a mistake to go this far with what was very much a dressed up whim of his own basist instincts. He watched as Hinata shifted on her feet again.

Taking a deep breath, he lept onto the floor below. Startled, Hinata turned and watched him as he stood slowly, unfolding like a dark, black flower. He wore a black suit with a high neck. A more formal version of his typical atire. A matching silk desert cloak wrapped around his torso. He looked...magnificent. It was funny, she thought, how your perspective of a person can change. Gaara had never been hard to look at, but it hadn't been until that morning in his office, after she received her appointment that she had first become aware of her attraction to him.

Her lips parted, but she found that there were no words brave enough to venture forward as he walked silently towards her.

Gaara approached her, what had Temari said? 'Tell her how great she looks,'or something... It seemed so pointless, how could she not know?

"Hyuuga-san," he said inclining his head slightly in greeting.

"Sabaku-sama," she said in turn, bowing to him.

Gaara forced himself to look away as Hinata's bow revealed to him the the beguiling cleft between her breasts. She was beautiful, keeping those base instincts in check was not, he realized, going to be easy, titles and boundaries be damned. Hinata stood and noted that he had looked away from her with a frown. It suddently dawned on her how ill-suited her current outfit was to bowing and a mottled blush spread over her face and neck.

To break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, she asked, "My assignment, Sabaku-sama?"

"Assignment?" Gaara asked disappointed, his eyes returning to hers, surely she did not this think this was some sort of mission, did she?

"Yes," she smiled shyly. "You see, this is, for me a very new situation...I was hoping you could help," she shrugged bitting her lip in an unconscious gesture that didn't fail to arrest his attention.

"Yes," Gaara said, relieved she was just joking. He had not forgotten their conversation at the bar two weeks ago when she had told him about the difficulty she had in operating without a "directive."

So he was the one who got to decide what that directive should be? Remembering his sister's advice, he began to instruct her in his usual dead monotone.

"First, be more beautiful than any other woman here. This shouldn't be hard given the...equipment you've been given," Gaara said, his eyes rolling over her body with an air of seemingly detached analysis which made Hinata's skin flush an even deeper red.

"Second, pretend to be interested in whatever I am saying, no matter how uninteresting it may be. Finally, return with me to my study later, I want to show you something there."

Hinata nodded dumbly, her head swam. Where had Gaara learned to be charming? Sure he had delivered her "marching orders" in his typical emotionless manner, but he had just called her beautiful, in a strange backhanded sort of way.

Maybe Temari had done more than just pick out a dress. Regardless, Hinata decided that could get used to his brusque attention. Gaara stood in the door way and offered his arm to her in the commonly accepted Konoha gesture, she accepted, wrapping her arm gracefully around his.

"What color is that dress?" Gaara asked her as they paused at the archway, his expression impassive.

"Um...burgundy, I would call it..." she said, confused.

"Hm," he responded, without further explanation.

They entered the courtyard and Hinata was immediately aware of a hush that fell over the assembled company. Taking a deep breath, she called on all her training as heiress of the Hyuuga clan and schooled her features into what she hoped was a dignified mask.

She felt her spine lengthen as she set her shoulders back and her chin high. The faint jangle of the brass earings and braceletes that she wore was the only sound that could be heard in the room.

Gaara led her to a table slightly larger than the others at the far corner of the room. After sitting down she set to work arranging her sari in what she prayed was an appropriate fashion. Gaara sat down next to her, his back as before facing the wall, and nodded to a man dressed in a white uniform. A bell rang and a happy murmur arose from the crowd. The banquet had begun.

Immediately uniformed men and women appeared from the doorways, bringing in large trays with plates full of food. Unidentifiable dishes were set down in front of her and their other table mates, along with more familiar items like rice, olives, fruit and small roasted birds.

A flagon of wine was brought to Gaara and he inspected it before nodding to the steward who set it down on the table. Taking her empty glass Gaara poured Hinata a small amount and offered it to her to sample it.

"This is lovely. I've never had anything like this before," she said after letting its intense tones swirl over her tongue. She knew it to be grape wine. It seemed hopelessly exotic to her palatte, which was used to the rice wine of Konoha.

Gaara nodded and promptly filled her glass to the top. Hinata smirked, and wondered if he was trying to get her drunk, it wouldn't take that much. She noticed that there seemed to be mistake in the table settings as she glanced to look for her plate. Noting her gaze, Gaara stated,

"You will share my plate, and I will serve you. This is tradition."

Hinata felt her jaw drop. The idea of the Kazekage serving her seemed frankly scandelous. She wanted to refuse, but she knew how important the hospitality was to Suna and so, not wanting to insult him, she demured.

Gaara proceeded to pile their large plate with a sampling of different dishes, describing each to her in turn and watching as she tried each. Some were unexpectedly spicy, causing her twice to cough and take liberal gulps of her wine. Hinata was treated to the unexpected sound of Gaara's soft, low laughter as she struggled to maintain a modicum of dignity.

Secretly delighted by the unexpected sound, but still embarrassed that it was at her expense, Hinata consoled herself by sending angry looks at him over the rim of her glass. Undaunted, he simply smirked at her, his rapt, unflagging gaze envoking unanticipated reactions in her body.

This ritual continued in between light conversation with their tablemates until a dessert was served of chilled shaved ice flavored with lime and mint. The taste was soothing to her senses after the assault of flavors on her tongue.

Well-fed and drowsy with wine, Hinata was startled by the sound of a loud bell being rung yet again to mark the ending of dinner and the beginning of the reception.

Gaara stood and offered his hand to Hinata, who accepted gratefully. The long pleats of her skirt were beautiful but she was unused to them, and they made her maneuvers restricted and less than graceful.

He led her by the hand to a large room lit with huge bronze braziers and decorated with broad swathes of orange silk falling in cascades from the ceiling. As if on cue a stream of of people seemed to begin lining up to greet the Kazekage. Hinata shifted uncomfortably as people began to petition Gaara for this and that.

Wasn't this a holiday, she wondered? It seemed unfair to bother him on a night like this. She was annoyed, she found, that they had taken her his attention away from her. Furthermore, Hinata mused dejectedly, she didn't feel it was appropriate for her to hear what may be personal matters, or worse, political ones.

Her hand tingled as she felt Gaara's finger tips brush the back of her hand lightly. Turning, Hinata's gaze locked onto his eyes.

"The terrace," he instructed. "Go."

Relieved Hinata smiled and excused herself.

Hinata stood, slumping against a column. The cool air of the desert night did little to cool the fever of wine and excitement from her skin. The sensation of the stone column felt good against her arm though. It had been a few minutes since she had left the hall and Gaara had yet to join her. She was not bored, however.

From where she stood she could see the other revelers on the terrace, Kankuro among them, speaking to eachother, changing groups, shifting, like stars weaving new constellations before her eyes. The streets below were lit with lanterns. In the sky above the stars hung, the indigo pierced with the occasional flashes of fireworks set off from the rooftops of houses across the city.

Hinata wondered what it could be that Gaara had in store for her in his study. Some scroll that he wanted to show her? What else could it possibly be? The prospect would have seemed dull to her, but it did mean that they would likely be alone together.

She smelled him first before she felt him. Gaara had a scent like tea tree oil that night, he must have bathed with it. Sharp and bright, it mingled with his usual earthy frangrance and wafted towards her as the wind shifted behind them. About to turn to greet him, she felt the feather light touch of his silk cloak ghost againts her back and she froze in place

Gaara was standing just behind her now. She swore that she could feel the heat from his body. Or perhaps it was just her own reaction to the fact that he was so near? As Hinata silently pondered this, Gaara reached out towards the bare patch of skin at the small of her back that had hypnotized him earlier as he watched her from above.

His open hand ached to touch it. He longed to capture her bare waist and pull her towards him, to fold her into his body and bury his face in the crook of her neck. He wondered if, nestled there, he would be able to feel her pulse beneath his lips? But to do that would be...innapropriate, to say the least. Especially here, with the elite of Suna watching, milling around like hungry hounds.

He couldn't restrain himself from one small indulgence, though, he curled the index finger of his left hand and brushed his knuckle up the shallow, smooth depression of her spine. He smiled softly as Hinata jumped slightly in surprise, but didn't move to avoid him. His pulse quickened. Not mollified with just a single touch, his digit traced slow strokes over her backbone, up and down, up and down.

Hinata's breath stopped. In that anoxic moment, the world stopped with her, and her mind was left bereft of sensation except for the slow rise and dip of Gaara's smooth knuckle against her skin. A spray of gooseflesh rose from her nape to her navel, and she clutched dumbly at the railing in front of her as her eyes slid shut.

Somewhere in the haze of that moment a part of her logical mind still chattered away wondering, how, how was it that small gesture should have such an effect on her? Nothing, that part of her wondered, no small thing that Naruto had ever done had given her a feeling quite like this one.

Gaara watched, pleased, as Hinata did not move to avoid his touch but seemed to relax into it, as she braced her hand against the railing in front of her. He stepped forward into her back and breathed one soft word into the shell of her ear, "Come."

"Yes," Hinata answered, her voice barely audible.

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A/N - Woo! Already there...is what I would have said. To him. But I'm not a very classy lady! Sorry to end it on another cliff hanger. But there will be more soon. Thanks go to all fabulous reviewers.

jbramx2 has made FREAKIN' amazing fan art for the story, in which she depicts the hilarious bar scene between Kankuro and Gaara. (Hilarious). Everyone check out the picture on her deviant account (you can find it through her profile), and then worship her for her greatness because she is an amazing illustrator.

Speaking of talented, bump to Gracemis (who needs no bump from little ol' me, really). If you are a Gaahina fan who as been living under a rock and haven't read her stuff, go do so now.

Finally, Bob-Geko. So insightful you are! Administer medicine at all times. This chapter is not long enough for you, I'm sure. But I like to give more frequent updates...

If you like this, try reading Monkey Shine, my other published Gaahina story. It's funnier than this one, and has a gorilla in it? Yeah. Just read it.