Written at midnight. Terribly sad, rated for blood and language. Written after reading several sad fanfictions... one that broke my heart being Mornings by Dreaming of Everything.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but hell, if I did, Gaara would have all the cookies and ice cream he wanted.

And no, this story has no cookies or ice cream in it. Warnings for suicide.

Temari gasped as she shoved the door open. There sat her brother, head hugged to his knees. His eyes were wide and blank, but tears streamed from them, mixing with the blood and sweat on his face. It looked as though he had a gash on his forehead, near the tattoo, and probably wounds all over his body, which still sat in a small puddle of blood.

Her hands shook as she fought the need to slam the door shut and leave the mess that was her little brother behind. She could see he was shaking, see he was desperate for the kind of contact she could provide… but she was fearful. Scared.

Instead, she dragged the red haired boy to his feet, shoving him out of the room and towards the bathroom down the hall. She felt fear and worry in her gut as she felt how weak he was, how easy it had been to push him.

Quietly, she talked to him, tried to soothe him, but inside she knew he couldn't hear her. Turning the water in the sink on high, she pushed his head into it, attempting to wash the dried blood from his scalp, the tears from his face. But she could never wash the real wounds; those of his heart.

She let him up for air, chilled at how shallow his breathing was. His blank, empty expression had not changed. He looked so lost.

She and Kankuro had not seen him for three days; missions and daily life in Suna constantly got in the way of their fragile family. Their poor, dysfunctional family of which Temari would give her life to protect.

A little light came back on in Gaara's sea-blue eyes, enough that Temari knew she could speak with him. Enough to illuminate the insanity there.

"Gaara?" She whispered. "Gaara?"

He looked up at her.

"What's happening Gaara?" She asked, hating how weak she sounded, hating how helpless she felt. Hating how the light was already dying in his eyes.

"He…" came Gaara's small, hollow voice. Temari's eyes widened. He was so run down. "I'm dying." He simply said, slumping against a wall. One of the slashes on his arm burst open, and blood seeped down his pale skin, onto the clean walls…

"No!" She cried, stepping forward. She winced, seeing how he cringed before her. Gaara had never cringed.

"He wants it so badly, I want it so badly…" Gaara was murmuring now, his voice a babble of terror, and complete resignation.

"What do you want Gaara?" Temari gasped, the question running out of her as though it was meant to spoken.

He was silent at first, then;

"I want it all to end." He opened his eyes wide again, his pupils trembling. "I want all the pain to end…"

And then he had collapsed onto the floor in a flurry of blood and tears and Temari felt tears spring to her own eyes as she saw his face wrinkle in suffering and pain. She had never realized- no that was a lie. She had always realized, always knew his pain. But he had always been such a monster to her, she hadn't cared before.

Things had been changing, though. She had seen Gaara laugh once, when they were all eating dinner together, talking; like a real family. Laugh, for gods sake.

She watched in guilt and horror as his expression became a mask of emotionless ness, and he stood, though barely able to support himself on such feeble legs. The sand she hadn't noticed before shifted nervously.

"Gaara…" She whispered again, stepping closer, clutching his wrist. He stared down at the touch, recoiling. He didn't know how to deal with this, with all these things that seemed so normal to other people, to real humans. He wanted to throw Temari out of the room.

But he didn't. Because then he would be alone again, to not only Shukaku's constant screams but to his own, bloody psychotic thoughts. He couldn't stand those thoughts, couldn't stand himself. People called him a monster, he called himself a monster. It was only natural.

Before either sibling could make a move, Kankuro's door was opening, and the youth was stepping out. His eyes were half closed, and he mumbled something in a groggy sort of voice. Then, he saw Gaara. He saw Temari.

Fear spread through his body faster than the sand would ever be, and he was wide awake, running towards them, face twisted in rage. He saw blood. Gaara's blood, impossible, it could only be Temari's, only hers, and that meant that Gaara, that monster, had hurt her.

Temari stared at her brother, too shocked by everything to react at first. Then, his arms were around her, wrenching her grip off of Gaara's arm. She was being carried back to her own bedroom, her own bed.

"Temari!" Kankuro was saying, "Temari, are you alright? Bastard didn't hurt you did he? Temari!"

She couldn't find it in herself to respond. She just kept replaying over and over the scene of only a few moments ago. The fear in his face. The realization he feared her as much as she feared him. He feared her humanness, her closeness, she fear his demon ness, his distance. The look in eyes that had suddenly become immense relief.

"Kankuro." She said.

The boy stopped in his tracks and looked down at his big sister. She shook her head and he continued to her room, laying her on her bed.

She was covered in blood, Gaara's blood, she knew. How it had happened she could never guess… and then she knew it.

"Kankuro!" She screeched, sitting straight up again. Kankuro in his black pajamas and lacking his face paint froze in her doorway. Then, he was there by his bed.

"Go to Gaara!" She screamed, grabbing his collar, pulling him close. "He's trying to kill himself! He used DESERT COFFIN ON HIMSELF!"

And then they were both out of the room, dashing towards the bathroom faster than possible. They found a bloodied heap of red and dried-blood stained clothes, with a pale little body trembling inside them.

"Gaara!" They were both crying, picking him up, carrying him as Kankuro had carried Temari, because he was family, if feared, and a little part of each of them loved the little boy.

Once on Temari's bed, they examined him, finding every cut and every gash and knowing that he was bleeding internally too.

"Damn it!" Kankuro shouted, slamming his fist into a wall. "Why didn't we notice? How could we not notice?!"

"K...kill me, niisan…" Gaara's voice rasped, so much like a child's.

"No, Gaara, hold on damn it!" Temari was yelling, too loud, too harsh.

He just wanted it to all fade away. Why wasn't he dead yet? He should be; then that demon inside of him would be gone, and no one would miss him, no one cared about Sabaku no Gaara…

"GAARA!" Those were his siblings. It wasn't until recently that he had begun thinking of them like that, as family…would they care, when he died?

He sighed blissfully as his sight began to finally fade into that blackness he knew, or hoped, was the long awaited death….

"GAARA!" Damn, they kept pulling him back, back alive…

And then one more pull and he found himself in a bedroom, with the moon bright outside and the wind rustling through the small room. He could feel tears on his chest, where Temari was sobbing…

"You are crying." He stated calmly, as was his way.

She gave a look of silent awe, tears creating lines down her face, and then she hugging him, the contact so close and so foreign that he wanted to bolt, to run back to his gory room where Shukaku would taunt him with memories and bloodlust…

But instead he stayed, eventually receiving a relieved grin from Kankuro and a shy hug. Temari didn't let go, but soon fell into deep sleep. His older brother as well, was soon slumped against a wall, snoring.

That night was sleepless for him as always, but instead of being haunted by the insanity that plagued him, he was comforted by the small thought that they at least, had wanted him alive, had cared enough. He lightly touched the scratch on his face, where blood had begun to dry and it no longer ran down his neck.

A small smile graced his lips, because he was glad he could feel the light touch of his own hand, the warmth of Temari around him. It made him feel alive, more alive than killing ever would.

When morning came, he was treated, and as always acted cold towards his sensei, the medics. But after that, Gaara shared small, secret things with his siblings, good things. He felt glad they could see a different side of him, as he saw more of them. They were family after all, and he would give his life to protect that.