Rating: PG13 for language and content.

Genre: Well, it was going to be fluff, but evidently my muse's thought differently, now it's angst, sad, and a bit disturbing. Nothing too bad though.

Summary: Poor Deidara. I just made up a past for the poor boy. What exactly caused him to become what he is today?

Deidara squeezed his eyes shut as another crack of thunder raged across the sky. Shivering a bit, he raised himself from the futon he had been sleeping on and padded towards the window, alive with flashes of light and steady sheets of rain.

'Why am I here again?' Deidara asked himself as he watched the stormy sky. 'Oh yeah,' he thought to himself, they had been on a mission, he and Sasori, in the stone country for an assassination.

Stone country, Iwagakure, his home… It was always stormy wasn't it? In all of his memories… It always had been… Yeah, at least that time it had been… He could at least remember that clearly, yeah, it was always clear though.

Another flash of lightning lit the room, causing the shadows to come alive and dance over the faces of the two men in the room.

Squeezing his eyes shut until the inevitable thunder passed over again. 'She never liked the thunder, yeah, she hated the thunder…yeah…' He thought solemnly, leaning his face towards the cold glass until it touched the surface, sending a slight chill down his spine as it did so.

"He did though, yeah. He never cared about it. He always said it was normal. Yeah, normal." Deidara whispered as a slight frown took over his face.

Silently he walked towards the futon where his Akatsuki robe was lain out for the night. Quickly he draped it over his small body, not bothering to put his hair up in it's normal fashion, or put on his hitai-ate.

Opening the door of the small Inn room a bit, he found all of the hall lights still on. Maybe a walk would clear his head, yeah… That might work.

Walking out through the lobby, he was met with the sudden icy breeze of the frozen wind, the wetness in the air, it was all like before…


"Don't be scared, yeah! There's nothing to be scared of, it'll pass, yeah, it'll pass." The small blonde boy said as he held his sobbing friend. It was just their luck really, he had been at her house painting with her and it started to storm. The storm changed from rain, to thunder, to a tornado watch.

The girl continued to sob, her mouth wanting to form words, but being unable to.

"Don't bother Deidara-chan, she'll never talk to you, she can't even understand you. She won't talk. Ever." Came a gruff reply to the boys kind words.

Deidara frowned a bit over his shoulder towards the girls father. It wasn't fair. He didn't love her, or care about her like a family should.

CRACK! The thunder came again. The girl continued to sob as he pet her back a bit.


Yeah, he remembered that, it was a long time ago, yeah. Deidara shook his head of ran as he continued to walk down the drenched street. No one else was out, no one in their right mind would be.

She had never been right, in the "right" sense of the word. She couldn't speak, or even understand people. At least, that's what most people thought. But she could speak. He'd seen it.

Through her art, and her painting. She was a beautiful artist. Yeah… And she wasn't scared of his hands. She never made fun of him like his classmates, in fact, she clapped and giggled whenever he used them.

Of course, she could never go to school, or become a ninja, or even have a job. She would be living and depending on someone all her life. She would never be free, then again, she would probably never think about it.

Deidara shook his head again. Why did it have to be that way?


After the storm Deidara had walked home to his own family. They would be worried after such a terrible storm.

Turning around to take his knapsack from his back, he quickly realized that he didn't have it.

"Darn it, yeah!" He yelled a bit as he turned on his foot and ran back to the other's residence.

Running inside, he found the house to be empty.

"Hello! I was just looking for my bag, yeah, I forgot it, yeah!" Deidara called as he looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone there, he picked up his knapsack and was about to leave when he heard a splash.

Running through the opposite door, he saw only the older man, sitting by a large lake that the family owned.

"Where is Sara-chan?" Deidara asked as he peered around the man. Turning, her father only looked at him sadly.

Deidara looked at him for a moment, he had a deep gash across his cheek, it looked a bit like…kind of like…claw marks? Realization dawned on him as his eyes widened large.

"You...you!" He yelled as he looked back towards the lake. In the middle, barely noticeable, there were small bubbles coming up.

"Sara! Sara-chan!" He yelled as he was about to jump in, only to be restrained.

"Stop it boy. It's better this way. She can't feel the pain now." He replied in a eerily calm voice.

Deidara's eyes widened larger. "She couldn't feel pain before! Let go! Yeah!" He screamed, struggling against the larger, older man.

"Let me go, yeah! Sara-chan!" He called over his shoulder to the lake.

"Do you know what her life would have been like?" The man screamed into his face. "Hell! That's what it would have been! She could never have done anything! Never get married, never get a job, never have children, never fall in love, never do anything!" He growled, increasingly louder with each breath. "Think of it as an artful death, what she would have wanted." He finished, a small, sadistic sort of smile appearing on his face.

Looking back at the lake he noticed the bubbles beginning to stop. No more air, never again, never…yeah…never.

"Stop it! Let go!" Deidara screamed louder as he groped for his bag, taking out a large chunk of clay. "You want art? I'll give you art, yeah!" He screamed as he took the chunk of clay into the small mouth in his hand

"This isn't what she wanted, yeah!" He screamed as he felt the jutsu in his hand coming to an end. "How would you know! You never cared! Ever, yeah!" He screamed again, letting go of the newly formed clay bird from his hand.

"How about pain, yeah? How about an "artful death", yeah?" Deidara screamed as he quickly took out another chunk of clay, sending the first bird towards the man's leg.


Deidara stopped for a moment as he realized that he was overlooking water, standing on a wooden pier overlooking the shipping docks.

He remembered that. It was raining, the storm was over, but it was raining, it was wet and cold.

He remembered the man, killing him, taking him limb by limb. An artful death, such a masterpiece didn't seem quite fitting for the bastard now that he thought back on it.

A cold grin took it's place on his half-frozen face as he looked over into the deep, dark waters beneath. That had been the start of it all really. No one wanted a "maniac" like him in their town.

ANBU wanted him, the police, the government. No one could appreciate his art, no one. It was so beautiful too, so right, so just.

He had heard them taking after that, terrified at what their little prodigy had done. But what he had done was right, right for Sara-chan, right for him, right for her bastard father. It was really a masterful piece of art, he hadn't yet been able to top it. But that hadn't been from lack of trying. Another crack of thunder raged on through the night as lightning lit the sky.

Whoa, where the hell did this come from! I wanted to right fluff! Instead I made poor Deidara seem like some psychopath! Forgive me, I watched the Jon Benet case and Elizabeth Smart case right in a row along with Shindler's list. There was a lot of crying going on today. Forgive me.