As always, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Thanks to MaeveSolis for beta'ing.

Diplomacy

Gaara sat in the office that had once been his father’s, ignoring the pile of papers in front of him. It was a year since his father’s death, and the council had yet to appoint the new Kazekage. It was not really a hard choice – the title was hereditary, which limited it to only three candidates. But the council refused to make the decision that everyone knew they were going to make until they were sure it would not cause an uprising in the village. Gaara, meanwhile, in his newfound quest to prove the usefulness of his existence beyond that of a weapon of war, took on the more mandate duties of a Kazekage when he was not assigned other missions. The council allowed him to do as he wished, glad to get the paperwork off their hands whenever they could.

The papers, however, were the last thing on his mind at the moment. He was plagued by the constant memory, replaying in his mind still as vivid as if it were yesterday despite the half a year that had passed. Words that he never thought anyone would say to him, words that he did not want to hear from her, that she in the end did not have the courage to say to his face. He hated her for it. Hated how he could not stop thinking about it. Hated how he wanted to go back just to hear her say it. Hated that he wanted nothing more than to kill her just for thinking those words, for being so far away that he could do nothing about it.

Every day Gaara found himself regretting that he had let her walk away, that he let her live after what she did. If she loved him, she would’ve stayed, he thought with the selfishness of a spoilt child. She left. And that meant she lied. He wanted to punish her for it. He wanted to tear her apart as he had promised to do so many times, let her blood coat his hands and wash away these sickening feelings of something that he did not even begin to comprehend.

He had changed since his fight with Naruto, he had acquired a new appreciation for the lives of those around him. He even began to develop bonds – friendship, family, team. But emotions were still beyond his reach. He simply didn’t understand the need for them. And the fact that, despite his resolve to remain as cold and ruthless as ever, she was constantly in his thoughts infuriated him.

He would not allow himself to care, because she left, she ran from him, she left him alone just as everybody else had done throughout his entire life. She was no different than all those children that fled from him in terror when all he wanted was a friend. He had wanted her, he would have kept her with him forever, and she escaped. And he couldn’t forgive that, he couldn’t let her hurt him – even if what he was feeling now was undeniably pain, he still would not admit that she affected him this way. He had to forget her; he would forget her, if he could only stop thinking about her for just one minute.

As the thoughts circled in his mind for the millionth time, the dull ache in his head grew stronger. Gaara scanned over another paper in an attempt to distract himself, signing it with only a vague awareness of what it was about and setting it aside. He wished that somebody would interrupt him. Nobody would. Nobody dared.

His siblings were the only ones that would sometimes come to see him without bringing another pile of paperwork. But even they stayed only if he demanded it. And even they could never take his mind off her. They never once mentioned her, but something in their gazes made him think that they were thinking about her too, wondering why she had affected him so much, wondering if he was imagining her when he was with them.

He never said a word to them about anything that happened, and they didn’t dare ask. He was grateful for their silence as much as he hated it. He knew they were thinking it and he wished they would just say it, even if he didn’t want to hear it, even if he would kill them just for speaking her name.

At least they never repeated the reckless words she had scribbled on the note that he wished he could forget. At least they didn’t lie, like her.

He wondered occasionally what Temari and Kankuro thought about all this, if they resented her for interfering, if they wished she would disappear from his life and leave him to them, or if they secretly hoped that she would set them free. But it didn’t really matter, because she was gone, and what he was left with was only a poor imitation of something that had never been a family, two broken shells forced by a lifetime of guilt to stand by his side no matter how many times he walked away from them.

He didn’t care if Temari cried, he didn’t care that Kankuro tried to stop him every time he told them that he wasn’t coming back. He never belonged with them anyway.

Just like he didn’t belong with her.

Just like he didn’t belong anywhere in this world, no matter how much he tried to be accepted. Everyone still ran from him, everyone still whispered behind their hands. He could still see the look of fear in his siblings’ eyes when he appeared without warning or moved too abruptly. It reminded him of her, the way she forced herself to remain beside him despite the terror that he could practically smell surging through her every fiber. And that made him hate her even more, the way she had tainted everything in his life, despite his promise that she would change nothing.

…And I’m still alone.

But no matter how much he wished he could just escape it all, he always came back. To the world that hated him, to the village that wished to forget his existence, to the siblings that would never be family.

Gaara sighed and pulled up another paper. This one peaked his attention, something about the alliance with Konoha. It brought his thoughts back to her – as if they ever went anywhere else. Unbidden her face swam to the forefront of his memories; her pink hair blowing gently in the breeze, her emerald eyes piercing as they sparkled with tears despite the small smile playing on her lips.

He swore quietly under his breath, scowling at the memory as if she could somehow sense his anger. She deserved to die, she should die, if only to take away the pathetic glint of hope that he could not quite get rid of. What if, what if…

Time went by slowly for Sakura, days blending into weeks, weeks into months, stretching into the inescapable dread of monotony. Training took up virtually every waking hour for her, leaving little time for anything else. She preferred it that way, giving her no chance to be left alone with her thoughts except at night. Thoughts that always returned to him, no matter how hard she tried to think of something else.

The same memory replayed in her head like a record stuck on a single loop. The sight of his cold, hate-filled eyes as he destroyed the note she had given him, as he let her walk out of his life without a word. She wanted to hate him for it, but all she could feel was anguish. He rejected her, he didn’t even acknowledge that she confessed her feelings for him. He acted as if they were nothing but strangers, as if she was completely meaningless. She could only assume that that was how he truly felt. Perhaps all those nights with her were nothing but a distraction, a temporary amusement as he himself had said.

And yet, she still wanted to see him again. If only to hear him admit that he didn’t want her. If only to know that all her dreams were really a delusion. Because the vague possibility that maybe, just maybe if they met again… It was unbearable. Hoping was even worse when she was sure it was in vain.

When Sakura’s training was interrupted by a mission that would send her to Kirigakure as a diplomatic envoy, she welcomed the change. She hoped that this would break the cycle of despair of the past six months, maybe even allow her to think of something, anything but him.

The mission was simple. She would be accompanied by two genin as a safety precaution. She would sit in on the meeting of the Mizukage and the envoys from the other hidden villages, ensuring that Konoha’s stance of peace was understood and accepted and that no treaties were being violated. If conflict arose, she was to defer any further questions to be resolved by Tsunade. Having helped her sensei with many official matters, Sakura was confident that the mission would present no problems.

In retrospect, she should’ve expected that she might encounter him there. But the thought did not occur to her, perhaps because she was trying so hard not to think of him at all. So when she walked into the meeting room, flanked by her two genin companions, and was met with his defiantly indifferent gaze, her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

She froze only for a moment, composing herself almost immediately into an appropriately professional demeanor as she took her place at the round table. The meeting seemed to stretch on for hours, and it didn’t help matters that she was the only female there and all the men seemed much more interested in watching her move rather than listening to her talk. She gave up eventually, settling for simply listening and ensuring that none of the matters they were discussing were a threat to Konoha or its diplomatic relations.

Sakura couldn’t help noticing that Gaara’s eyes drifted to her more than strictly necessary. When he spoke, the sound of his voice was like opening a floodgate of memories, forcing her to bite down on her lip to keep herself composed. He never addressed her directly, almost as if he wanted to pretend that she wasn’t really there, even as he kept staring so openly that she wondered why nobody had asked him to pay more attention.

She breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally over and prepared to flee the room, afraid of the confrontation she had been dreaming of for months. But to her horror they were all invited – or more appropriately, forced – to partake of the local entertainment.

Their large group was led to another spacious room which for some reason made her think of Jiraya. There were lavish and brilliantly colored draperies hung around the walls and large satin pillows scattered around the floor in front of low tables already containing an assortment of drinks. The room radiated an atmosphere of relaxation and promiscuity.

She soon understood that the entertainment consisted mainly of watching scantily dressed women dancing in the middle of the room and she felt even more out of place, unable to express her disgust at the whole scene, unable even to leave without upsetting the other diplomats. She sat stiffly on one of the pillows, refusing to drink even though her age was disregarded for this occasion, and talking to her two companions from Konoha in hushed tones as they discussed mundane matters that could not be less important to her at the moment.

She couldn’t stop herself from watching Gaara across the room as his eyes followed the dancers with apparent disinterest. She was glad at least to be seated so far away from him, knowing how awkward it would be to have to attempt to talk to him if they sat near each other. For his part, he seemed not to take any particular note of her presence there, in stark contrast with his behavior during the meeting. Sakura didn’t understand his mood, but she wouldn’t let herself wonder about it, because thinking about that meant thinking about the inevitable end that was sure to come now that they had an opportunity to talk.

As the night progressed, she found the men around her getting progressively drunker, their comments towards her growing increasingly more forward. Her irritation peaked to outrage when the diplomat sitting next to her – an unpleasant looking man old enough to be her father – boldly put his hand on her knee. She pushed his hand away roughly, using all her willpower to stop herself from putting him through a wall as she stood up abruptly.

“What’s the matter? Leaving so soon?” the man slurred, looking up at her with an ugly grin.

“Sorry, I’m taken,” she answered sharply before turning and walking out of the hall without even bothering to say anything to the genin for whom she was supposed to be responsible.

Still shaking with anger, she found her way to the room she was given for the night, walking in and slamming the door behind her so hard that the wood creaked in protest. She paced the floor back and forth, her hands curled into fists, wanting nothing more than to punch something. She didn’t get a chance to carry out her plans of destruction, however, when with a sudden rustle of sand the object of her dreams of the past half a year appeared in her room. She froze in her tracks, looking at him with a mixture of fear and longing.

They stood in silence for several long moments, waiting for the other to speak. She couldn’t think of anything to say and she couldn’t imagine what thoughts were running through his head, or what had brought him to her at all. His expression was unreadable and she was afraid to ask, afraid to hear a confirmation of her fears.

“Why did you say that?” Gaara asked finally, his voice flat and emotionless.

“You know why,” she answered softly.

“Tell me,” he demanded, a hint of anger in his voice now.

“Because I’m yours,” she replied quietly.

The corners of his mouth pulled downward into a frown and he cocked his head to the side slightly, looking at her with a calculating expression that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Sakura bit down on her lip, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt in agitation. He would deny it now. That had to be why he came, to set it straight that he no longer wanted anything to do with her.

“You left,” he hissed.

She knew he wasn’t referring to the party and she waited for him to add that now it was over between them. He would blame it on her, make it seem as if it was her own fault that she lost him. Drive the knife in deeper.

“I had to leave,” she answered when he didn’t say anything else. “I can’t abandon Konoha.”

“But you can abandon me,” he said coldly.

Her eyes grew wide at his words, a ripple of fear running down her spine at the unmistakably threatening note in his voice. He wasn’t making this easy. He would hurt her even more than she thought possible. Twist the knife in the wound until the hole was too big to ever heal. As if she could ever recover from what he had done to her already.

“I didn’t have a choice, Gaara!” she exclaimed in sudden frustration. “Do you think they would’ve let me stay? Do you think I would’ve ever left your side if I had a choice? You said yourself it wasn’t possible.”

“You lied,” he nearly growled, disregarding her words. “You said you wouldn’t run.”

“I didn’t run,” Sakura retorted angrily, her hands clenching into fists. “And what about you? You didn’t even say anything when I left. You didn’t even acknowledge what I told you…”

She broke off on a sob, biting down on her lip furiously, refusing to let herself cry in front of him. If he was going to torture her like this, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. If he didn’t care about her, she would pretend that it didn’t matter to her either.

“Because it was a lie,” Gaara spit back, his lips curving into a snarl.

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “I love you, Gaara. I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. I love you even now when you don’t want me.”

The sound that issued from his lips was almost a howl, utterly inhuman, making Sakura cringe in involuntary fear. His eyes looked more like the demon inside him that she had ever seen them before and for a moment she thought that she really should run from him. But instead, she took a step closer. He would catch her anyway. If he meant to kill her, there was nothing she could do.

“I wanted you to stay,” he hissed, taking a step back from her.

He was shaking now, and she knew that he was fighting to keep control. She realized that she had probably never come closer to death than she was now, even after all the nights she spent in his arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind the thought registered that the conversation was going in a direction that was far from what she was expecting. But she couldn’t think about that, she could only concentrate on him and the words that stung like salt on an open wound.

”How?” she asked desperately. “I would stay with you forever if there was a way.”

Gaara remained silent and she moved forward again. He scowled at her, knowing that another step would bring his back to the wall. The warning glare he shot her was clearly intended to keep her away.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” Sakura said, lowering her voice to a softer tone. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t love me, if you can’t care about me. But you said that you would let me love you. Was that a lie?”

“I don’t believe you,” he stated angrily.

“Then how can I prove it to you?” she asked, taking another step. She was now only two steps away from him.

“Stay,” he responded, his voice still filled with hateful anger.

Sakura let out a frustrated groan and turned away from him, walking to the bed in the center of the room and sitting down on the edge so she was facing him again. Gaara hadn’t moved, his posture tense, every muscle seeming to be strained in his slender body. He was like a predator waiting to pounce and it made her shudder instinctively.

“I can’t,” she said, sounding defeated. “You never left your village, even after everything they did to you. How can I leave mine? They need me!”

He glared at her, teeth bared in a vicious scowl, his very being radiating violence.

And what if I need you…

“You’re mine,” he breathed. “If you won’t come with me, I’ll kill you.”

“Would you really want me to come because of a threat?” Sakura asked softly. “I won’t be a traitor. Not like…”

She drifted off, afraid to say his name in front of Gaara, afraid of the memories it might bring back. She was startled when he suddenly moved, walking towards her with a feline grace until he stood directly in front of her. His eyes were still cold and hard, but he reached out to her slowly and traced his fingertips lightly down her cheek. She shivered involuntarily, her lips parting in a soft sigh as she leaned into his touch instinctively.

The memories did not do it justice. The warmth, the touch, the scent of his body mingled with the ever-present blood-soaked sand… It was almost enough to make her forget everything else in the world, almost enough to give in to his argument and just leave everything behind to follow him.

“I wanted to kill you,” he murmured. “For the last six months, I was sure that if I saw you again, you would be dead before you had a chance to speak.”

He seemed somehow frustrated. His hand lingered at the edge of her jaw before slipping down to curl lightly around her neck. Sakura hesitated for a moment before allowing her arms to wrap around his waist carefully. He didn’t push her away and she pressed herself closer, her hold on him tightening desperately, afraid that he would somehow disappear from her grasp.

“What would you have me do?” he asked quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. “Let you go? Let you leave me, like everybody else?”

“I will never leave you, Gaara,” she breathed in response. “I’m with you no matter how far away I am. I spend every minute of every day thinking about you. If there was any other way…” She broke off as the anger rose in his eyes again. “I can get missions to Suna. Maybe you can come to Konoha sometimes. We can see each other.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he repeated stubbornly.

“I’m here now,” she said gently.

There was a strange sense of defeat in his eyes, as if he didn’t have the will to fight anymore. He pushed her back onto the bed, reluctant, his touches hesitant as his hands drifted slowly over her body. They said nothing else as he allowed her to undress him, as she watched him retrace all her old scars with a kunai he pulled from her own holster, opening all the old wounds as if they had never stopped bleeding.

She knew she would continue to bleed tomorrow and her body would ache on the long journey back home, but it didn’t matter because she fell asleep wrapped securely in his arms, as if the last six month never happened, as if they had never been apart, as if they would never have to be separated again.

As if they really weren’t alone.