PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!

Ahem, now, with that having been said, let me explain the cause of my long absence.

Simply and briefly put, I had a spat with my parents, and everything I had access to online was taken away and deleted (Roleplaying, Livejournal, Devient Art, etc.) How my fanfiction account survived, I'll never know. But, the point is, I'm writing this without permission. I'm writing this with the fear that they may somehow find out, and delete this, too. But, no. I'm covering my tracks well.

Well, putting it in the most cut-and-dry way possible, this could be the last chapter for a long time. Or I could update within the month. I just don't know. I might not continue this until I'm in college (I'm 17 now, by the way, so that would be about a year-and-a-half wait.), but I just don't know. I wrote this chapter on the spur or the moment. In fact, I had started it in an encrypted journal - totally 12-year-old, I know - was translating it here, and then just kept going.

It felt good to write again. Everything just... came.

Well, that's not the only reason, of course. My laptop veritably exploded (Not literally, but you get my point), so I was without access to anything I had written for months. It's not fixed yet, but my amazing brother gave me his.

Anyways!

DO NOT TRY TO CONTACT ME!!

You can speak to me through reviews, of course. But NO EMAIL. That, too, is being monitored. This fanfic could be deleted if you even possibly have the inkling of an urge to try and reach me other than reviewing here, on fanfiction . net.

This story will continue. Don't worry about that. It will just take longer than I previously expected.

Oh, and, 110 stinkin' reviews for the last chapter!? I haven't read them all yet (I'm frightened out of my mind that half of them are probably death threats), but still... you guys are AMAZING!

So, uh, read, review, enjoy.

Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day.

It was the thunder that woke me. A streak of lightning painted the sky, its light glaring against my closed eyelids, and was followed by a racket loud enough to move heaven and earth.

My eyes flew open as I jerked backwards into Gaara's chest. His arms were around me instantly.

The rain was still coming down in torrents, and it chilled me to the bone to watch. Each moan and wail of the wind intensified as time ticked on. Trees were bent at odd angles, submitting to the gale, the old withered branches cracking when it became too much.

I watched, mesmerized, as the grass rose and fell like the violent waves of an ocean. Everything had an eerie gray hue to it, as if this was all just another bad dream.

Another streak of lightning; another rumble of thunder.

But it wasn't a dream.

It was the thunder that had woken me up.

It was Gaara who kept me awake.

I could feel the heat of his chest against my back, his sopping wet clothes plastered to his body. The white sash he usually wore clung to my bare ankles and my own drenched clothes. His right arm was around my shoulders, supporting my head, while the other traced the length of my arm, his thumb absently stroking my wrist.

I felt feverish. My body was soaked, my skin was icy, and the little heat Gaara provided was muggy and uncomfortable. The heat of his gaze pierced the back of my head, and I glanced back to find him watching me with a welcome clarity. Just the thought of his maniacal insanity earlier made me shudder.

Four men.

Four men were killed... massacred...

And I had come unbelievable close to sharing their fate.

What had saved me? Surely it wasn't my quick-witted thinking and incredible bravery. But it was just as hard to believe that my emotional breakdown could have possibly moved the red-head to spare my life. What about before that? Why had he protected me from those strange shinobi? I could guess that our contact from earlier might have swayed his actions, but then why turn on me when I tried to use touch to calm him down? And then, after that bloody scene, when I had emotionally snapped, why had touch suddenly worked again?

My analytical mind raced to solve this puzzle, and I found myself frustrated that I was still missing most of the pieces. I had thought touch calmed Gaara, but in thinking about it, realized I'd have to reevaluate my hypothesis. There were times when I felt my touch drove the red-head into a frenzy, rather than calm him down. Like on the rooftop a few days ago, when leaning into him spurred him into offensive action, and had subsequently gotten me thrown off the roof.

So the thought of my presence calming him was out.

But the only other explanation for his actions I could come up with was obsession... a frightening thought to consider.

And even if this was the answer I was looking for, it still didn't explain why my touch didn't save those four men's lives...

Unless an obsession far darker than touch overrode my contact...

But no. I wouldn't think of that right now. Not with the storm still raging outside, the utter void of blackness a dismal backdrop to the vicious tempest. Not when my body was so numb and inactive that not even the tingling hint of a fat, ugly insect crawling along my fingers could stir me into action. Not when Gaara was watching me with an intensity so deep, I could hardly breathe from the impact of it.

...His eyes really were quite lovely.

In the darkness they had taken on a whole new depth. Only the barest hint of light shone in them - a reflection from what, I had no idea -, and for the most part they were covered in shadow, but the texture... I would never have seen it if I wasn't nearly nose-to-nose with the boy. His pupils seemed a darker shade of black than was physically possible; deeper than void, blacker than space, and equally as endless. The blue around his pupils was so dark as to be nearly black, though each infinitesimal drop of color was distinctly different from the rest. The blue lightened as it spread out, and though from a distance it may have looked dull or dingy, up close it was teeming with a variety of colors and textures... and emotions.

They seemed to blend and meld together, different emotions - different concepts - becoming one. Deep aquamarine gave way to emptiness; near-amethyst mixed with cold control. And somewhere, clashing with all this, was vicious hatred, baby blue, steel gray, blatant obsession, hidden uncertainty, sea green, tremulous warmth...

He moved closer.

I did the same.

The black around his eyes - which I had thought only made him look sullen and pale - seemed to emphasize their depths and bring clarity to the lines of his face. His nose was perfectly proportioned to his face, and his cheeks were nearly as undefined as his chin. His skin was pale, unblemished, though looked as dry as the land he came from. My eyes trailed to his forehead - large, like mine! -, lingered on the scar, and eventually fell to his slightly parted lips.

I berated myself for taking such liberties to study him, even as my body turned to face him.

I watched for a moment, detached, as he studied my disheveled form. In a motion too quick for me to follow, I was on the ground, my back to the cold floor of the cave, with Gaara on top of me, his body molded to mine.

The shock of it all brought me back down to reality, and as his lips drew ever closer to my own, I found myself... frightened? - disgusted? - horrified?

... Longing for his lips to close over mine.

My eyes started to close...

No!

I forced myself to shake off this haziness, to look at the blood still staining his neck, his hairline, and to remember... remember...

Would another kiss be such a horrible thing? I couldn't find it within myself to think so, and this absolutely terrified me.

He paused above me, as if sensing my fear, his lips barely a breath away from my own. The tension in the air was static, pure electricity, as tangible and threatening as his body above mine.

His head tilted slightly, changing the angle of his descent, until his lips came to rest against my ear.

"You should be afraid."

And then he was off of me. I felt cold, and empty, when the weight of his chest was gone, yet was deeply relieved all the same. These treacherous thoughts... they were tearing me apart from the inside out, and I just didn't have the strength to bear another burden of guilt on my shoulders. Besides, I had already failed my country in two glaringly shameful ways. By inaction - surely Sarutobi-sama will skewer me when I show up tomorrow with still as little information as I had for him before! -, and by... by bending to this monster red-head's will.

He had deemed me his possession... and I hadn't refused.

I shifted closer to the entrance of the cave, not caring that the icy rain outside now had liberty to pelt my exposed arms and face, not caring when I lost all feeling in my fingers and my nose became as cold as the rock my face was pressed against. I watched listlessly as my wild, pink hair was drenched with the force of the spray, droplets of watered down blood retreating into every crack and crevice of the broken cave floor.

"You'll die of cold."

Gaara's voice reached my ears, making me cringe, as if my body couldn't stand the thought of his presence. Well, even the dumbest of animal's had enough basic instinct to flinch when it came upon something dangerous.

And, if nothing else, Sabaku no Gaara was definitely dangerous.

I had known this before, but I hadn't fully realized it until just now. The tone of his voice... the way he spoke those simple words... they were threatening in the emptiness of it all. It was like something had torn the boy open and hollowed out his soul, leaving nothing but an empty shell and a wraith of what once was, or what could have been.

It was the insanity that scared me, but it was in this black, ugly void where the threat truly lay.

"Maybe I want to die." My voice sounded hollow to my own ears, and I inwardly flinched at the un-assumed tone. It sounded so hopeless, so much like him...

...And it was true.

I think that's what frightened me the most.

He didn't respond for a moment, and after a while I thought he was ignoring me again, but finally he let loose a bored, non-committal, "Hn."

And suddenly my anger flared into an uncontrollable rage.

'What's that supposed to mean!?' cried Inner Sakura, and my mind instantly went over the possibilities.

'Hn,' as in, 'No one would care if you died anyway,' or 'Your life's not that difficult, stop being a weakling,' or 'I possess you, so you have no choice in the matter either way,' or a thousand other responses he could be thinking at that moment.

I flew to my knees - the cave was too small to stand in -, and whipped around to face the red-head. He looked me up and down, disinterest lighting his eyes, and before I could even think, my mouth was open and I was spewing forth as many sharp and pointed words as I could possibly manage in one breath.

"You monster! You sick, filthy little boy! You think anyone could possibly care about you!?"

"No," he replied nonchalantly, interrupting my little tirade, and adding fuel to the fire.

"No wonder nobody loves you! No wonder your teammates are afraid of you! You're a freak! Hear that, Gaara? You're a freak of nature! You think you're better than me? You think your life has any meaning? Well, you're wrong! No one cares about you! No one even sees you! You're worthless! Hear me? Worthless! "

His eye twitched, and I heard the slight shifting of sand in his gourd, but I was panting, and relieved, and I just didn't care anymore.

"I've killed men for less than that little rant." He was so cool about it, so spine-chillingly icy, yet the furious look in his eyes told me I had struck a chord.

I unthinkingly shouted out, "Then go ahead and kill me!", but instantly blanched at my words.

Stupid, stupid, stupid big mouth!

He smirked - just a slight lift to the lips -, and I knew, by that simple look, that he could easily do as I told and not have a speck of dirt on his conscience come morning.

He lifted up from his stretched out position on the ground, coming to a crouch, then leaned forward until we were nose-to-nose. Frightened, I leaned back until my sense of balance was thrown and I fell backwards into the raging storm outside of our little shelter. He followed, and was soon hovering above me on all fours, his body taking the brunt of the harsh weather. The look in his eyes was maniacal, cold, and...

... Amused?

A scratchy, half-choking sound came from his lips, his shoulders shaking in choppy movements. At first I thought he was having a small, contained seizure, but he seemed too much in control of these movements for it to be mere accident. And then it hit me.

Is he... laughing at me?

Anger bubbled just beneath the surface of my skin, but before I could explode again, I realized that I was in a precarious position. Sure, he wasn't bathed in blood and half-drugged with the high of a fresh kill, but he was just as dangerous as he had been earlier, after he had killed those men.

He continued to laugh - if it could even be called that -, and for a moment I wondered if he had truly snapped. Surely there wasn't anything funny about my vicious rebuke, unless I just failed to see the humor of it all.

And then he stopped.

I looked up into cold, hateful blue eyes, and flinched at the blatant fury I found in those depths. His silence was deafening, and I found myself almost missing his insane laughter. At least it was better than this frightening show of spiteful intimidation.

He leaned closer - I'm beginning to see a pattern in his movements, I thought sarcastically -, his proximity making my breath come in shaky gasps. The sand from his gourd rose up around us in a protective cocoon, crawling along our legs, rising over his head to shield him from the splitting wind... swirling around my arms and fingers, touching me in an almost provocative manner. A light tendril rose to my cheek, caressing it, more sand enveloping the bottom of my skull so I couldn't flinch away.

'If he kisses us one more time...' growled Inner Sakura.

'Oh, come on. You know you like it.'

My eyes widened to the size of saucer plates as this strange, dark voice invaded my head. There was something guttural to its tone of voice, and definitely, definitely something decidedly evil dripping from every word.

Where the heck did you come from!? I shouted inwardly as Inner Sakura's own voice mirrored my words.

'Oh, goodie! She can hear me!'

Oh, God, I was going insane.

'Who are you, and what are you doing in my mind!?' yelled my Inner self.

My mind, I corrected, nearly rolling my eyes when the feminine voice inside my head huffed.

I could feel this second presence shrug, and my breath hitched at the dark power it exuded from such a simple, intangible movement.

'Take it up with him.' I could only assume 'him' meant Gaara. 'Usually I'm confined to the prison of his mind, but it seems the medium of the sand lets me travel through both of you. Hm, interesting. I knew you'd be useful the moment I saw you...'

I blocked out this stranger's voice - which proved to be much more difficult than ignoring Inner Sakura's - and stared up at Gaara with wide, incredulous eyes.

"You hear voices too!?" I blurted out without thinking, instantly blushing at my tactlessness. In the very least, I could have amended the 'too' at the end of that sentence, so he would think me less insane.

He looked at me for a moment, puzzled, and then his eyes widened as mine had earlier, and he seemed to stare into my very being without hearing a word I said.

I knew in that instant that, somehow, my Inner self had invaded his mind just as his Inner self had invaded mine.

God, what could she possibly be saying to - ... no.

I blushed.

'... and where do you get off jumping us every five seconds just to sate your own sick desires? Huh? What is wrong with your head, for you to justify being such a jerk all the time! I mean, I know you can be hot and all, but that doesn't give you the right! Well, what do you have to say for yourself? ... And don't you dare pretend you can't hear me, because I know what you're thinking!'

I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't believe it!

Shukaku!

'What? What did I do?'

I was still trying to figure that one out. I hadn't thought it possible, really, but the Tanuki had found a way to screw with my head even more than he already did.

'You still haven't answered my question!' shouted a female voice that sounded distinctly like Sakura's... only more violent... and it was reverberating in my head instead of through my ears.

Shut up! I shouted, then inwardly blanched. What the hell? I was speaking to this voice now?

'What did you just tell me to do!?'

'My, my. She certainly has a temper on her...'

... Like the subconscious that conjured her up.

I looked down at the girl in question, all anger flitting away to be replaced by awed speculation.

"You hear voices?" I asked, my tone sounding harsher than I meant it to, but at the moment I couldn't care less.

Her blush deepened, and she tried to turn her head away before realizing that the sand still had a hold on it.

"Well, just... just one, actually," she choked out, her face getting redder and redder by the minute. Then, suddenly, her bright jade eyes snapped back towards me and she watched me with an earnest look on her face. "You hear voices, too?"

This odd... camaraderie, would it be called? ... forced me to answer her question.

"Just one."

"Just one," she muttered back, her voice distant and unbelieving.

I had never met someone who I had shared an inkling of similarity with. Sure, my siblings and I shared our blood, and the people of my village shared our homeland, but never before had someone connected to me in a... mental way. I suppose that's what I would call it, at least. I mean, who else in the vicinity heard voices - 'Just one voice,' the female in my head corrected me - in their mind?

'Two now,' commented the demon, and I cringed at the thought of having to listen to that whiny, annoying female bantering with Shukaku for the rest of my days. 'Only when the sand touches her,' the Tanuki amended, and at this realization I quickly jerked back from the pink-haired kunoichi, forcing my sand back into its container.

The angry shouts of her Inner voice receded from my head, and I was a little disconcerted at the emptiness which filled the space she used to reside in.

'Aw, now why did you have to go and do a thing like that?' complained Shukaku, and I cursed at him with an angry rebuke before forcing him back to the edges of my conscience.

I noticed for the first time that the storm had receded. The rain was almost completely gone now - just a light drizzle fell from the heavens - and the shocking lights and loud, unearthly booms had stopped a while ago. The sun had risen without my noticing, and I gently cursed under my breath for not having been more attentive. An enemy shinobi could have sneaked up on us easily without me ever having seen a thing.

The sky was that ugly, wan green color again - the color of the eyes which stared at me now from a few yards to my left.

I turned to Sakura, my arms crossed, and leveled my gaze with the girl.

"Well..." she fumbled for something to say. "That was... uh... weird..."

Weird wasn't the half of it.

Sick, devious, downright wrong described the experience a little better. I felt violated, in an odd way. No one had ever touched me, no one had ever tried to get to know me, and now suddenly this stupid kunoichi was in my head - literally!

'Not her,' retorted Shukaku, breaking through my mental barriers for a moment. 'Her voice.'

There's no difference! I shouted in my head.

'Of course there is. I'm not you, am I?'

I refused to respond to that question. Truth be told, the Tanuki had taken over so much of my mind - my personality - that it was sometimes glaringly difficult to differentiate between the two of us.

"Gaara?" Sakura's timid voice reached my ears.

"What?" I grated out angrily, accidentally letting my inward frustration show outwardly. I had been zoning out, and I knew it, but that didn't mean I would be treating the pink-haired girl with any amount of respect.

We had connected somehow, and I knew that, too, but that didn't mean I would be treating the pink-haired girl with any amount of sympathy, either.

My arms crossed over my chest and I tilted my head to the side, letting my wet, shaggy hair fall into my eyes. How cumbersome.

Growing up in the desert had taught me to respect the harsh climate of my land. Having a sand demon be infused into my soul at birth had taught me to control it, yes, but that didn't take away one ounce of the awe I felt for the deadly, glaring heat of my dry world. It was because of this that water - precious, life-giving water - held a mystery and a beauty unrivaled by that of anything else I had ever seen. Water was a gem, meant to be secreted away, hidden from view of the public eye. In Suna, the only large body of water to be found was in the Cistern - a large, underground cave of sorts, cut and chiseled by hand by the very founders of Sunagakure themselves. The water bubbled up from a hidden source even further below the earth, but no matter how much Suna took from it, this miraculous, ancient well never depleted.

Water was celebrated in Suna. Once a month, on the Day of Rations, every man, woman, and child gathered around the public wells spread out in the courtyards of Sunagakure, vying for their share of the cool, refreshing spring water. Men hauled countless numbers of large, clay vases too and from their houses; women filled cooking pots, bowls, and any other container they could find with this clear, tasteless liquid; and every child, young and old, huddled around the bustling adults, praying for one little drop to spill onto their waiting tongues, shoulders, or fingertips.

Only the extremely wealthy families could afford a set of pipes that ran directly to the Cistern, or one of its outlaying wells. Only the very fortunate could have water brought directly to their homes without having to store it in an underground basement or hidden cellar. But even then, the aristocrats bustled from their comfortable homes to take part in the genial event.

It wasn't always so genial, though. Somewhere along the lines, someone would accuse a nin of not giving them enough water, or giving someone else too much, or taking liberties with their powers and drinking too freely of the precious liquid. These little spats usually ended in deadly fights, and more often than not a lot of wasted water. Only just recently had I taken to showing up at different rowdy wells on this particular day. My silent presence was enough to keep the crowds in check.

I hated it when people wasted water.

It was like wasting life.

But there was one day a year where a barrel of once fought over water could be shared freely with any stranger who happened to amble by. The Cistern's Mercy, some called it; the Cistern's Birth, others. It was a miracle from God, really. A miracle not taken lightly. Once a year, the underground Cistern would fill to overflowing, whatever unseen source that gave it life seemingly bursting at the seems to share its good fortune with all of Suna. Every oasis within a forty mile radius of the Wind city rose higher and higher until it was all Sunagakure could do but take a little of the wealth.

And it just kept coming.

For that one day of the year, water was no longer a commodity, a blessing. It was common-place - expendable. Sometimes it disgusted me, sometimes I was amazed at how a simple change in circumstances - even if but for a day - could change an entire race of hard, angry people into a group of the friendliest faces you might ever meet.

It wasn't fair really. I was standing here, soaked to the bone in an element I rarely ever had the privilege to see - awed, even, at the odd sensation of being completely submersed in total wetness - and a few yards away stood a girl who looked absolutely devastated - annoyed, even! - that this wonderful liquid had the audacity to get her a little wet.

"Gaara," she repeated, breaking me from my thoughts. I snapped my head in her direction, not bothering to temper the annoyance in my gaze.

She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "It's the third day."

I shot her a bored look.

"We have to go back," she clarified, and nodded in the general direction of where she thought Konohagakure was. I didn't tell her that she was a good eighty degrees off.

When I didn't reply, she let out an exasperated groan.

"Gaara! We have to go back, and we're still covered in blood. I - we - have to report on everything that has happened to us on our mission. Even when you... - when those shinobi attacked us," she amended at the last minute, a nervous look entering her gaze.

My eyes slit, and I was suddenly deeply aware that my slip-up yesterday might have cost us this mission.

"Then don't tell them." We both knew that wasn't a suggestion. It was a demand.

Her eyes widened a fraction, and then she slipped behind a familiar facade of homeland loyalty. "Gaara, it is my duty as a shinobi of the Land of Fire to report on these things with the utmost -"

"You're a spy." I knew I probably shouldn't have said that - after all, part of the plan was to convince our partners of our ignorance -, but I couldn't help it from slipping out, and even as I felt that I was digging myself into a hole, my mind worked in overtime to use this to my advantage.

Her face paled at my accusation - Hn, proof enough -, and she took a shaky step back.

"H-How did you... How did you know?"

I couldn't help but smirk at her incompetence.

"You just told me."

Her shoulders fell, and the ashen look on her face almost made me feel guilty for the girl. Almost. I was leaning more towards annoyance at her idiocy.

Like I wouldn't have found out sooner or later had I not known in advance. I could have rolled my eyes, but stopped myself from doing such a thing.

The silence which followed was long and awkward. I could feel the tension in the air, but refused to respond to it. It wasn't my problem, after all. This stupid kunoichi could deal with her shattered hopes on her own.

"What... What do you want?" she finally asked, and I felt myself relaxing as she accepted her fate. Good. The quicker she understood her circumstances, the quicker we could get this all over with.

"Your touch," I responded quickly before I could reason myself into doing otherwise. "... freely given."

She nodded, expecting as much, and I at least admired her for that. She knew when to give up.

"We need to come to an agreement, then," she answered stiffly, and I tilted my head to the side, goading her to continue. Suddenly, her bright jade eyes were on me, piercing into my very soul and nearly making me fidget under her gaze. "You will never touch me unless I touch you first, understood?"

I suppose she thought the fire in her eyes would instantly make me agree.

"No," I said simply.

She didn't give up.

"Fine, then. I won't ever touch you of my own free will, and we'll just leave it at that."

She couldn't possibly have figured out that I craved for her to incite that glorious contact of her own free will. After her having done so before, it seemed almost impossible to go back to forcing her into my arms. I would if I had to, of course, but still...

The girl turned away, heading for camp, and I cursed under my breath.

"Wait," I called, and she stopped. Slowly, her body turned until she was facing me again, hands on her hips in a no-nonsense fashion. Good, she was ready to do business.

"You want information, am I right?"

She nodded nonchalantly, but I could see her bottom lip quiver in both fear and anticipation. I stepped closer to her, she stepped further away.

"Then how about this," and my mind concocted a plan even as my lips spoke the words. "For every time you touch me, I will give you a new piece of information."

Her brow scrunched together for a moment as she considered this, then she shook her head. "No. Too vague."

I was beyond frustrated with her now, and only wished to hold her soft little neck between my hands as I suffocated her to death.

"But..." Her single, tentative word brought my bloodlust back under control. I waited for her answer.

"If we... Well. What if I touch you only one place at a time? Like, your hand, or your arm. And every time I do, you have to answer whatever questions I ask you that day."

Now the scales were tipping in her favor. I thought of a way to revise her plan.

"Question." I stated, and watched in a detached manner as she tilted her head in much the same way I do sometimes. "One question, one place to touch. And I don't have to answer it if I don't think your touch is adequate enough."

Now the scales were tipping in my favor, and she knew it.

"One question, one place to touch," she agreed, then deviated from my idea. "You name the place first, and if I agree, then I'll ask the question. The more... intimate the touch, the more difficult the question. If I touch you, you have to answer the question. In full detail. Nothing vague, and no lies, or I break contact and this deal is off."

"And if I answer the question, you have to keep in contact with me... for the entire day. And I can touch you back, in the same place you touch me."

Sakura blanched at that last statement, but quickly masked her features with a calm collectedness.

"If I agree to that, will you agree not to touch me - at all - until I incite contact first? Ever. Not just on the mission, but while we're in Konoha, too."

I considered for a moment. "No."

"Then... then I can't..."

"Then consider this. Agree to everything stated in this first deal, and then..." I paused, thinking for a moment. "Pretend we are courting while in Konoha - even under the scrutiny of your friends. I can touch you whenever I like - in the Leaf Village -, and you must touch me back from time to time."

She blanched again, her face going pale and scrunching up in a show of disgust. "But what do I get out of all this?"

"I'll keep this little deal a secret from your friends, your country, and my own country. If your precious village found out that you failed this spying mission, surely they would be deeply ashamed of you." I knew I was playing on her guilt and her own fears, and was decidedly proud of myself for it. "And if my country found out you knew that I knew you were a spy, then they would kill you on the spot."

There it was again. The scent of her fear. It was so appeasing... so familiar now. She took a step towards me, then hesitated. Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears, but somehow she kept them from overflowing. I knew I was tearing her apart, but couldn't quite feel guilty for my actions. Besides, I had physically torn people apart before. What was the difference in emotionally shredding someone to pieces?

"Okay," she whispered, extending her hand to make her agreement official. "Okay."

My hand slid into hers smoothly, the feel of soft, uncalloused skin driving my senses wild. My fingers wound through her own, and I stepped closer even as she tensed.

"You had wanted to kiss me... earlier..." I murmured, my eyes trailing over the soft contour of her face. Her cheeks flushed crimson at my remark, but she didn't lie as I thought she might have.

"Yes."

The admission made my chest ache, and it took everything within me to stifle the moan in the back of my throat.

So it hadn't been my imagination. She really had wanted me to close the gap between us, when I had been hovering above her in the cave as the storm still raged outside.

A part of me wanted to kiss her then and there, but the more sensible part forced me to step away and gain control of my senses.

I nodded once at the girl, then brushed past her to head towards camp. We still needed to get cleaned up before heading back to Konoha, and we still needed to discuss what kind of lie to formulate for the mission report.

Besides, I would have plenty of time to kiss her again, later.

For those of you who took the time to read my livejournal from a while back, you'll notice that I skipped deal #1. Decided against using it, since I'm feeling a bit more pressed for time.

And the Shukaku/Inner Sakura switch thing? Spur of the moment. Hope it was received well...

Ahem, anyways. Thanks for reading, please review, and remember: No contact-ey the Kodu-ey. Thanks.

- Kodu

Oh, and, oh my goodness, ff has SPELLCHECK now!? It's a miracle!