Thank you everyone for all the beautiful comments. :) And thanks again to Lotos-Eater for beta'ing.

Chapter 18 – The Meaning of Love

After Temari was out of sight Gaara’s gaze slowly turned upwards towards the roof of a tall building some distance from where he stood. He formed a one-handed seal, disappearing in a flurry of sand and instantaneously reappearing on the distant rooftop. His appearance was marked with a loud gasp of the shinobi standing watch only steps away from where Gaara materialized. The malicious grin on the jinchuuriki’s face was enough to make the guard move back until he was at the edge of the roof.

“Enjoy the show?” Gaara hissed.

“Gaara-sama,” the shinobi exclaimed nervously, unable to find anything to say in his defense.

What he had seen had shocked him enough, but being confronted with it was more than he could handle. Gaara didn’t love, everyone knew that. All the villagers heard the story of the scar on Gaara’s forehead. When the guard saw Temari approach the jinchuuriki, his first thought was that she was going to die and he would have to be the one to tell the Kazekage about it. But when he saw Gaara pull his own sister into his arms and kiss her with all the passion no one would’ve ever associated with the monster, the nin had to reevaluate everything he’s ever been told about Shukaku’s container. Before he was interrupted by the jinchuuriki himself, the guard was rehearsing the best way to inform the Kazekage that his children were apparently involved in an incestuous relationship.

“Have you had a chance to report it?” Gaara inquired casually, ignoring the nin’s panicked stammering.

“No,” the guard answered, shaking his head firmly. If he had stopped to think, he would’ve realized that was not the answer that would save him.

The shinobi had no chance to reconsider what he said as Gaara raised his hand, immediately encasing the helpless man in a hard cocoon of sand. Gaara’s hissed words barely reached the nin’s ears before he was crushed beyond recognition, leaving behind a puddle of mangled human remains as the sand rushed back into Gaara’s gourd.

A couple of hours later, the same twisting spiral of sand announced Gaara’s arrival in Temari’s room. He had assumed she would be asleep by then and did not hesitate in stepping up to the side of her bed. His eyes drifted lazily over her prone form, hair tossed haphazardly over the pillow, left arm turned just slightly to reveal the cleaned cut on her skin. Gaara’s tongue trailed along his lips slowly as he looked at her. The only thing stopping him from destroying her peaceful dream was her invitation. Even if he woke her up just to hurt her, just to fill the night air with her anguished screams, it would still seem like he was giving in to her. He didn’t want to give her that power. But leaving didn’t seem like an option either.

He contented himself with just looking at his sister, remembering what she felt like, what she tasted like, the sound of her screams and pleas in his ear, the way the pain lit up her eyes every time she said she wanted him. A quiet hiss escaped Gaara’s lips at the memory, his expression animalistic and soft at the same time. As if unable to stop himself, he leaned down, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush almost imperceptibly over Temari’s cheek. She parted her lips in a silent sigh but did not wake up.

Gaara smirked slightly as he withdrew his hand, wondering what she was dreaming about. He was reminded of the night he stood over her bed in the hospital, the first time he really noticed her, really paid attention to her existence. Back then he imagined that she was running from him even in her dreams. He supposed that now she would probably dream of his gentle caress and wish that the next time he came to her would not bring more pain. Gaara found himself wondering what it might be like if he didn’t hurt her, what she would feel like in his arms if she wasn’t bleeding. Would she welcome him without fear, would she whisper his name with affection instead of submission, would there be happiness in her eyes instead of despair?

Would she say she loved him again?

He found that he couldn’t really imagine it. He had grown accustomed to Temari’s pain. He craved it, he needed it. Her pain was what made him notice her, what made him come back almost every night. When he saw her silent surrender every time he undressed her, it was almost enough to make him forget his own torment. He was sure that if there was no pain, it would not be enough to relieve his loneliness, to make the emptiness of his existence sting just a little bit less, if only for a few moments.

But wasn’t he told once that it was love that healed all wounds… not pain?

Gaara suddenly wished that he could hold her the way he did when she was too tired to know he was there. Even when she was in his arms earlier that night, she was not really relaxed. She was still afraid. He could practically feel her anticipation of the inevitable pain. She expected him to hurt her. And yet, she came to him. She sought him out when he didn’t come to her, as if she truly enjoyed being with him. He knew guilt was nothing more than Temari’s excuse for allowing him to do what he did. He knew she meant it when she said she wanted him. Was it love? He didn’t really know. He couldn’t pretend to understand what that word was supposed to mean.

When he started this, he hadn’t thought about where it might lead. In the beginning, he supposed he was just playing with her, passing the time by finding new ways to torture her. But now… he wasn’t sure anymore. It didn’t bother him that she was his sister. That relationship has never held any significance for him and that fact hadn’t changed. But the possibility of forming a bond was strange to him.

If she loved him, did that mean that he loved her?

Gaara shook his head silently, deciding to put those thoughts aside. Pain was what he knew, it was what was most comfortable to him. There was no reason to think of anything else. Allowing himself to get close to someone had only ever hurt him. She was no different. Even if she did want him, even if there was more there than he had initially planned, he had meant what he said to her. He couldn’t care, it was not in his nature. Whatever she might feel did not change their relationship. Gaara hesitated for only one more moment before leaving her room in another soundless teleportation, giving Temari no chance to discover his presence.

Temari woke up at the sound of her alarm in the morning. She sighed as she turned it off, disappointed that Gaara didn’t come to her even though she hadn’t truly expected it. She got up and dressed in silence before heading downstairs. She found the living room deserted and walked into the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast. Minutes later, Kankuro came downstairs, pulling on his gloves and hood as he approached her.

“Hey,” Temari called to him casually.

“Mm,” was the only response she got as he wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning to you too,” Temari said with a smirk.

Kankuro mumbled something incomprehensible before taking a sip as he leaned back against the kitchen island to watch his sister fiddle with pans on the stove. Temari shook her head with resignation, concentrating her attention on the cooking.

“Should I bother asking how you got that cut?” Kankuro said finally after several minutes of silence.

Temari glanced down at the long gash still clearly visible on the inside of her forearm. Strangely enough, Gaara had never left wounds so deep and so obvious.

“No, you shouldn’t,” she answered calmly.

“How do you put up with it?” her brother asked quietly. “It’s not like you to be so… submissive.”

“You know it’s different with Gaara,” she replied distractedly, her eyes downcast.

“But why?” Kankuro pressed. “Is it really what you want?”

“I can’t pretend I don’t wish he wasn’t so cold,” she answered with a sigh. “But it is what it is. I can deal with it if it means being close to him.”

She paused, finally looking up at her brother’s worried face.

“I love him,” she added softly.

“I know,” Kankuro replied with a casual shrug. “I care about him too.”

Temari smiled sadly. If only they had been able to say those words to their little brother years ago, perhaps everything would’ve been different. But it was pointless to dwell on the past.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Moment later, Gaara emerged at the entrance to the kitchen, looking over his siblings with the usual passive expression. Kankuro craned his neck to give his younger brother a half-smile before turning his attention back to his cup. Temari, determined to show no weakness, flashed her best arrogant smirk. Gaara’s eyes narrowed at the gesture, his look calculating as he glared at his sister, as if contemplating his next action.

After another moment, Gaara moved further into the kitchen, stepping past his brother and moving up behind Temari. She froze, uncertain how she was supposed to react to this. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kankuro stiffen noticeably, looking at them over the rim of his cup warily. When Gaara’s fingers touched Temari’s back, she shivered involuntarily but remained resolutely still, waiting to see what he was doing. Slowly his hand slid down her back and wrapped around her waist. Temari tensed up immediately, realizing that he was doing this only to see how she would react in front of Kankuro. It took a moment before she summoned enough courage to reach up and interlock her fingers with Gaara’s just as he had done the previous night. As soon as she did this, he instantly spun her around to face him. With his free hand, he traced the cut on her arm, nails scraping along it and making her wince slightly.

“Don’t do that again,” he said coldly. “Next time I will kill you.”

“Nani?” she whispered, unsure if he was referring to the wound or the fact that she approached him at all.

Gaara merely smirked, giving her no response and leaving her wondering what he meant. He lingered only for a few seconds before pulling his hand sharply out of Temari’s grasp and taking a step back without a word. Temari turned back to the stove slowly, showing no hint of how unsettled his actions made her as she turned off the burners and moved to pull three plates out of a cupboard before separating the food. Moments later they were sitting together at the table, once again putting up the façade of being a family despite everything that happened.

“So, do you figure we’re better at teamwork yet?” Kankuro asked no one in particular in an effort to break the silence that fell between them.

“I think we’re as good as we’re ever gonna be,” Temari answered, knowing that he would get no response from Gaara. “But I think the Kazekage might want something more.”

“It would be nice to be a chuunin,” the puppeteer said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why you didn’t take the test last time, Temari.”

“Because I wanted us to remain a team,” she replied with a scowl. “You know that.”

“You chose to stay?” Gaara asked quietly, looking over at his sister.

“Hai,” she answered, turning to him with a smile. “I told you, it’s not the village that keeps me here.”

Gaara’s eyes narrowed slightly, head tilting to the side as if in contemplation.

“Nani?” she prompted gently.

“You’re strange,” he muttered before lowering his head to return his attention to the food once more.

Kankuro could not suppress a stifled snort at those words, earning a glare and a kick under the table from Temari. For a moment, they actually looked like bickering children, the way siblings were supposed to be. Until Gaara looked up again, leveling them both with the familiar death glare and making them both fall silent.

That night Temari didn’t bother waiting for Gaara. She wasn’t sure if he would be mad at her for coming to him without invitation, but she decided it was worth the risk, not only to see him but also to find out what he really meant that morning. She waited only until Kankuro was in his room before knocking on Gaara’s door.

“Come in,” came the impassive reply.

Temari slid inside the room and closed the door behind herself silently. Gaara was sitting on his bed as usual, looking up at her with a blank gaze. She hesitated briefly before approaching him, deciding that if he could be bold enough to touch her in front of Kankuro she should at least have the right not to ask permission before coming to him. When she got no reaction from him, she sat down on the bed beside him. Gaara’s expression was unreadable as always as he watched her. Trying to ignore her uncertainty Temari leaned towards him, in an effort to test herself as much as him, moving closer until her lips met his.

She was surprised when Gaara returned the kiss, his arm coming up to wrap around her and press her against him. She allowed her hands to glide across his chest gently as their tongues entwined. She remained pressed against him even after she pulled back, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Since when are you so attached to me, Temari?” Gaara asked, the cold indifference in his voice bringing her back to the reality of the situation.

“I always was. You just never noticed,” she answered softly. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” he replied with a smirk. “Makes it that much easier to break you.”

“You’ve already broken me,” she said quietly.

“There’s always more,” he stated cruelly. “You’re still breathing.”

She said nothing in response as he shifted, rolling her over and pinning her down on the bed under him. His hands ran over her body, gliding along the silk fabric of her robe before effortlessly untying the sash. Temari looked up at her little brother with barely concealed emotion behind her eyes.

“Gaara,” she murmured. “This morning… what did you mean?”

He considered her silently for several moments, his eyes narrowing slightly, contemplating his answer.

“When I want you to bleed, I’ll do it myself,” he answered finally, his cold voice making her tremble slightly. Temari guessed that was not the real answer, but she chose not to question him on that.

“Alright,” she replied, unable to keep herself from smiling slightly. “But… you always want me to bleed.”

He paused once again, his gaze meeting hers and seeming to scrutinize her.

“You don’t make sense, Temari,” he said finally. “Why are you here? You hate me but you want me. You’re afraid of me but you keep coming back to me.”

“I don’t hate you, Gaara,” she said gently.

“You said you do,” he countered with the usual lack of emotion.

“I just hate this situation,” she replied, wishing she could take back those words, even if she did mean it then. “I hate that everything has to be so fucked up.”

“You said you hate me,” he pressed, apparently not inclined to let her off the hook so easily.

“I was angry,” Temari answered with a sigh.

She could find no way to tell him that she only said that because what she felt was the exact opposite. Explaining love to someone like Gaara was beyond what she was prepared to deal with. He wouldn’t believe her even if she said it. He would only mock her with it, torture her with those words.

His fingertips brushed over her neck slowly, gaze locked on hers, lips almost brushing against hers as he leaned down towards her. Temari shivered involuntarily, the intensity in his eyes seeming to burrow through her soul. She saw her own reflection there. Even with the insanity, the hollow empty void in that pale blue glow, his eyes still looked so much like her own. The only part of them that showed their resemblance, demonstrating unmistakably that they really were family.

She couldn’t bring herself to say that she loved him. Not when she no longer meant those words as a sister, not when there were so many implications behind the statement.

“I don’t hate you,” she repeated quietly. “I could never hate you, Gaara.”

“Even though I don’t care about you?” Gaara questioned, sadistic, cruel. “Even though I always hurt you?”

She was suddenly glad that she didn’t say it. Even without the words, he was mocking her just like she thought he would.

“Hai,” Temari answered breathlessly, seeing no point in denying it when it would only prolong the argument.

He smirked slightly before pulling her into a kiss, silencing any questions she may have had about this unusual interrogation.

Temari’s body trembled in his arms when Gaara finally stopped. He traced his tongue along her bottom lip, capturing the remaining crimson droplets as she panted quietly. She murmured his name under her breath as her legs wrapped tighter around him to prevent him from withdrawing. He arched a brow silently at the gesture.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked quietly.

It took all her courage to ask that again after the response he gave last time. She still didn’t truly expect it to be different. But she had to try. After everything he told her, after the way he revealed his secrets to her… Maybe… maybe this really meant something.

Gaara looked at her silently, considering the request. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he wanted her to stay, wanted to see her peaceful and unafraid as she was when he watched her without her knowledge. He found himself wondering what it would be like if she slept in his arms willingly, knowing that he was there. Would she be afraid that he would kill her in her sleep? Would she be unable to relax knowing that she was sleeping with a monster?

“If you want,” he answered finally, keeping his voice impassive to conceal his thoughts.

For a moment Temari thought she didn’t hear him right. It took a few seconds to realize that he really did say what she thought, and another few to notice that he was looking at her with an expression devoid of malice and hate, waiting patiently for her to release him. Snapping back to reality, she gave an uncertain smile as she untangled her limbs from around Gaara. He rolled off her carefully and leaned back against the pillows, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Temari hesitated for a moment before edging closer towards him. She was surprised even more when he shifted his arm to allow her to rest her head against his shoulder. She looked up at him with sudden shyness as she draped her arm over his chest while his fingers traced slowly down her back before coming to rest at her waist, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the skin idly. It was odd, she thought, not entirely awkward and not entirely comfortable. She hadn’t truly expected Gaara to permit something like this, and now that it was happening she found herself instantly on guard, afraid that it would be another trick to hurt her in the end.

Still, she had to admit that being with him like this was worth all the risks she was taking. Tearing her eyes away from Gaara, Temari pulled at the sheets tangled around them, dragging the covers up over them both. She forced herself to relax, nuzzling close to the warmth of her brother’s body and lulled into a false sense of security by the comforting brush of his fingers. She had allowed herself to fall this far into this insanity. She could at least pretend to feel safe in Gaara’s detached embrace. Even if it was nothing more than a show of affection, a mocking pretense of love, at least he was with her.

When Temari looked up again, she found Gaara still watching her, his expression inscrutable as always. She smiled softly, sliding one leg over his to press even closer to him. The depravity of the situation occurred to her as she felt the slow dripping of blood that continued to stain her thighs. The only place she felt even a semblance of happiness was in the arms of her little brother while she still bled from the wounds he had inflicted. She realized there had to be something utterly inhuman about that. Perhaps Gaara had twisted her even more than she realized.

“Gaara,” Temari murmured, her eyes locked on his. “Tell me you won’t leave me.”

“It would be a lie,” he answered indifferently.

“Naze?” she asked cautiously.

“I don’t know if I will,” Gaara replied calmly.

And just like that he had revealed that it wasn’t some big elaborate scheme, that he didn’t know what the future held anymore than she did. She didn’t know if he intended to give such an insightful answer and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. There was some comfort in thinking that she was simply a victim to his sadistic plan. But if this, whatever it was, was real… that made it that much more dangerous, more frightening.

“Then tell me something that will make this OK,” she said with a soft sigh. “Tell me I’m not stupid for trusting you.”

He considered her silently for several moments. That statement in itself seemed wrong. He knew she didn’t trust him, or else she wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. She may show less fear than anyone else, but even that was forced. If she didn’t want him, she would never have approached him. She would’ve been as distant and hateful as everybody else. But it was that yearning for some sort of a bond with him that set her apart from everyone else, that allowed him to bend her to his will as he did.

“I don’t know what would make it OK, Temari,” Gaara said quietly, pausing to watch the disappointment in her eyes before continuing. “Because I don’t know what makes it wrong.”

Temari said nothing in response but the corners of her mouth quirked upwards in a small smile. It would have to do. From Gaara, she couldn’t really expect anything more. She leaned up and caught his lips in a soft kiss.

He yielded, allowing her to maintain the pretense. As their tongues entwined and his sister’s body pressed closer to him, he found himself wondering what she really felt about him, almost wishing for her to speak those words again. But then, it didn’t truly matter to him. He didn’t expect her to love him. As long as she stayed, as long as her blood stained his lips and her screams replaced the whisperings of the bijuu, that was all that mattered. Love was an intangible unrealistic concept that meant nothing to Gaara.

When Temari finally broke off, she buried her face against her little brother’s neck as he held her to him with all the tenderness he said he would never show. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she wondered what he would do all night. She supposed he would probably simply leave, wander the empty streets as he always did with the images Shukaku showed him as his only company while she was forced to remain behind, unable to provide him any comfort.