I've recently decided that Gaara and Sakura are my favorite coupling from the Naruto universe. Therefore I searched FanFiction for GaaSaku related fanfictions, an obvious recourse no? Well, I didn't really find a whole lot that I actually liked and surprisingly I found that most of them were AU or unrealistically optimistic from the start or I just didn't like the style some stories were written in. This troubled me. So I decided that the only option left to me was to just write what I wanted to read in the first place.

This story was inspired plot-wise by the poem "Purdah" by Sylvia Plath, you'll notice that that's where the title came from, and thanks need to be given to Randomsomeone because her stories also inspired me to write this pairing in particular. I don't know if she'll ever read it but I'd like to give her my thanks anyway. If you like to listen to music while reading, I listened to "Winter Song" by Cheryl Ann Fulton, and "Awake and Alive" by Skillet while writing this.

She stopped calling Kakashi "teacher" when she turned eighteen, the year she realized that really? What had he ever really taught her that she hadn't already learned from her academy days or from a book? Not much. What had he taught her? That her aspirationsand level of skill would never meet? That she had no talent? That she wasn't really part of the team since she was weak? That she was weak, ultimately, because she was a girl? He didn't really want her, no, because what was she to Sasuke? Even to Sasuke's memory? Hell, she hadn't even been level with Naruto, and Kakashi hadn't bothered to help him either.

But in the end she didn't really know, and she didn't want to know, not the truth at any rate. If she voiced these hurts out loud the words would make them real, if she kept them in her heart Kakashi wouldn't have to answer them. They weren't real if she didn't say them. Things could stay the same if she kept her wounds covered and out of sight. So she remained silent and did the only thing she could do. She took her lack of potential and power elsewhere. And she had flourished. She wondered sometimes if he knew. If he even cared.

He had placed all of his hope and power in one person, only to be disappointed and betrayed. As they all had. And now instead of having three he didn't even have one. Instead of a team, a family that they should have been, there was instead only fragmented and bitter memories. Reminders of failure. Maybe even reminders of his own team. His own past. She didn't know.

It wasn't entirely his fault, this too was something she knew. She had been weak. But he had been her teacher. He was supposed to look past her shell and see her heart. He was supposed to have believed in her, pushed her, cultivated her, encouraged her. It had been his duty. But he had failed her and now he was alone. She was alone too, in the end they were all alone weren't they?

She was lucky, she supposed, that she had realized this relatively early on. That is that Sasuke had been the basket with all the eggs. Naruto had seen it as well, though as always, he handled himself much better than she did. Even though he was loud and seemed to be extremely immature he always seemed to understand too. The way he handled himself, she would even use the word "graceful" to define it. He was empathic, that seemed to be his special gift. So he understood, and she merely saw, but they both had known it for what it was and had gone elsewhere. To more welcoming and helpful arms. Was he bitter? She couldn't tell, his mask was much more complicated then a slip of fabric over his face. It wasn't just skin deep. Everything about Kakashi was veiled, layered, complicated.

Was she bitter? Yes. Yes. Was she jealous? From the beginning.

It was hard to look back and see what could have been. To see what other teams had. Other teams that had become family. Bonded by more than just mere familiarity and time. Team seven had had those, but it took more than that and she hated that she didn't know what that something was. She could guess, scrabble for it, but that knowledge had been stolen from her. She was impressed more by the unfairness of that fact then about any other. All she had were shattered pieces of glass that obviously were supposed to fit together, but didn't.

She felt isolated between the walls of her own ineptitude and cruel fate. But she had changed that hadn't she? She was the apprentice of Tsunade herself. The Hokage.One of the last Sannin. That counted for something didn't it? Wasn't that worth enough to be taken seriously? Why didn't anybody ever see her?

She cried alone at night sometimes.

At first she hated that she cried but the tears were good, she decided. They helped her to wash away the sadness in her heart. She was sorry for herself sure, but these tears were a release not a containment of her misery. So she cried. She wanted to believe that it would all come together someday; but miracles didn't happen. At least not around her. Or maybe just not the good kind. Weren't bad miracles called "anomalies" or "bad luck"? It seemed to be on the tip of her tongue.

So she would cry until she could watch the sun rise and not wonder where Sasuke was. If he was safe. If he was still here, would that change her own life? She knew he couldn't be happy, he refused to be. She wasn't dumb enough not to realize the significance of his leaving when he had. He had started to be comfortable with them, and as soon as that happened he ran away. She laughed at this, he had always called her annoying and stupid and so forth, yet he had done the same thing he had always accused her of. That seemed like pretty black hypocrisy, especially when one considered the implications of his actions.

After crying she could reach that numb place that was secure. Her relative normality.

Her brave face.

She would, could, had to wait until the day when someone would see her. Really see her. She could be patient, she had been so far.

She didn't want to be all powerful, she didn't want to be immortal. She didn't want to be untouchable. Sasuke had shown her what that life was like, and she didn't ever want to become that. All she wanted was to be strong enough to protect what was important to her. The people close to her, this home in which she lived, whatever scraps of family she had left. The greatest of these, her secret wish, was her dream for a whole family. One built from whole parts, not fragile pieces thrown together by chance. An unbroken chain. The tastes she had had before had only made her thirsty for more. Who knew something that sounded so simple was really so hard, sometimes seemed so impossible? Especially when she should have had a family from the start.

In her heart of hearts she knew Sasuke would not, could not, be the fulfiller of that dream. No matter how much she had wanted it, still wanted it if she was honest with herself at all. He was tainted and not even her wishes or her big heart, all her love, could change that.

He was bitter and broken not only because of the past, but because he had broken himself. It was beyond even her skill to heal damage that was self-inflicted. Corruption that had been desired of all things. How could that ever be mended? Even if he did eventually murder his brother and right whatever wrong he perceived he would never be the same. That kind of damage wouldn't heal nicely, if at all. It became a matter of pride to hold that tear as closely as possible even as it tore you apart, that was what scar tissue was. She should know.

Such knowledge was hard, but how else could she explain five years? Five years of dismissal, betrayal and anger. Would she take him back? In a heartbeat. It was the only thing she had known. She didn't know how to move past it. She wanted to, but she didn't want to admit to herself she may not be that strong. Didn't have it as together as the Hokage's personal student should have had it together. Would he come back though? She hadn't the heart to answer that question either. Could she love him as she had before, if he did come back? Was what she felt even love at all? She wasn't so sure anymore.

It was one thing to love someone. It was something else entirely to follow them blindly. Against everything reasonable, or even fair. Who'd have thought?

She felt kind of numb. The streets blurred one into the next. She wasn't paying attention to where her feet led her anymore. She couldn't stop thinking about the past. Her main purpose in life, the one she had made for herself, had ultimately become a liability. To her health, her happiness, perhaps even to her life one day. A mistake. This had been the product of her blind trust. Blind. That it would work out. That he wasn't as damaged as he'd seemed. That he could forget the pain and move on. It had been stupid of her. Of course it had been stupid, why would she think he could get over the murder of his entire family and way of life? That she could change him? Arrogance! At least she could be slightly comforted in the fact that his leaving had been a surprise. Though the voice in her head whispered that they had all been idiots not to see it coming, or to refuse to see it. Herself included. She swallowed her pride and said it now, though now it didn't matter.

She was too late.

They all were.

Had been.

Perhaps still were. Probably.

She didn't remember her parents. The reason she had entered the Academy at all was because she was an orphan and had nowhere to go anyway. That was the story of many shinobi in her village, any village. What family in their right mind would allow their children to become shinobi? It was like guaranteeing an early death. Clans were different. They valued this way of life. They had raised each generation with the understanding that they would be soldiers, it was a matter of pride and honor. It was where blood abilities came from. However she had had no choice, she saw it now for what it really was. A place to put unwanted children where they could serve the community as a whole, fodder for the canon of war. Yet she was still grateful. She wasn't dead yet, and now she had the skills to make a name and a living for herself.

And she wouldn't trade her past, as painful as it was, for any other life. She couldn't even imagine what her life would be like as a street rat. Unwanted, for anything. Here she had a name, as she was. Even behind all the screens and curtains of duty and honor and any other reason to die. She would honor them. She was grateful.

But that didn't mean she was happy. Not by far. She was content, she had fleeting moments of happiness. But too much was missing for her to honestly say she was happy. Really happy. No, just because she was alive didn't mean she had anything to live for. Not that living for anybody was such a great idea anyway, but it had been something. Now she didn't really know what to do with herself anymore. She would protect her home, with her life if necessary, but a place didn't make you whole, didn't encourage you, didn't love you back. That's what she really wanted. She wanted to be loved. That was a real reason to better herself.

She wasloved. Just not in the intimate way she craved. She had the motherly love of Tsunade, the sisterly love of Ino; and as much as Naruto said it, his love tasted more like the love of a brother than a lover. Which is what she wanted. She wanted a love that encompassed and comprised. The love of family and friends was like a blanket that kept you warm and covered. She wanted to be seared from the inside. To understand. To share everything. To understand. That was what she wanted most. Understand, be understood. Love.

That was the missing fragment of her life. She had the job, a pseudo purpose. A goal, though more often then not it seemed like the goal of others. She had family, friends, a house, a home. Now she just needed a lover to give everything to. To be weak. To be whole.

She was vaguely aware that this desire was selfish of her, and somewhat shallow, but she wanted it. Wanted it with all her heart. Did wanting something as badly as that still make it wrong? How could that even be judged? Besides what was her own selfishness in compare to Sasuke's? She was practically angelic in compare to him.

Her heart clenched and her eyes watered as she dragged him into her thoughts once more. Must she always hurt herself? Why couldn't she just move on and forget? Damnit! She still "loved" him, whatever "love" was anymore. Wanted him as well as everything else. Stumbling forlornly down the street she finally stopped and just slid down a tree into an upright pile.

Had he always had this much power over her? He made her feel all these things. Anger. Despondency. Sadness. It even got to Naruto sometimes, despite his smiles and enthusiastic promises. Promises they wouldn't tell each other could never be fulfilled. It was another one of those things that Team 7 never talked about. Maybe that was their problem. They never talked. They were pros at skirting the issue, at offering lies and riddles instead of the truth. Real "A" class shinobi that was for sure.

It was this one thing that kept everyone from being happy. It was this one thing, and she still had no inkling to why it had to happen in the first place and no matter how much she dug there was always some conveniently hollow explanation in her way. There was no plausible reason for Itachi to have gone off like that, no indications, but she couldn't prove anything. So all they were left with was the sad fact that Sasuke was gone and nothing could ever be "normal" again. It seemed to color every aspect of her life.

She could feel the sun on her face, the grass under her fingers. But the light was cold, the grass coarse and the tree hard at her back.

Her meeting with the Hokage, her training session with Kakashi, her lunch date with the girls, her shift at the hospital. All forgotten. Instead she let her heart go and soaked in all her loneliness. She didn't want to be a better person at the moment. It was just easier to mope and wallow in self-pity. She really disliked herself. Almost hated herself. Almost.

In this state of mind she didn't notice the trickle of sand creeping up her ankle until it was too late. The angry, roiling chakra, the snide stare, the smirk that revealed all of his too sharp teeth. His whole figure exuded aggression and anger and her first reaction was to recoil. How had she not noticed that? She was supposed to be alert damnit! And she had been too caught up in herself to notice when someone apparently wanted to murder her!

That seemed to make his presence even heavier. His smirk broaden. Flashes of memory blinked through her mind. Overwhelming pressure crushing her bones. Sharp claws digging across her skin. His acrid tasting desire to snuff out her existence. Wasn't once enough?

Fear washed over her and made her feel sick. He still wanted to kill her. An image of her blood spattered and smeared across his face dripped into her mind, her blood on his tongue as he savored her death. Enjoyed it.

Fear turned to disgust, then disgust turned to anger; if it was possible he became even larger, his eyes even harder, his teeth even sharper.

Anger turned to panicked rage as she stared at him. How dare he look at her that way! How dare he make her feel these things, bringing up the past! How dare he touch her!

Scrambling to her feet before the sand constricted anymore on her body, she attempted to frantically rub the sand from her legs, arms, anywhere, but it wouldn't move against her fingers. Instead it constricted slowly, ever so slowly, and then moved to crawl and spiral up her skin. She was trapped. Trapped. She felt the panic rise.

He wouldn't really kill her in broad daylight would he? In her own home? Would he? There was the alliance! Would that be strong enough to give her a way out of this? Preferably still alive?

She thought so.

Determination rose along with the sand and replaced the fear in her eyes. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. If she had to she was ready to die, it wasn't like she had a whole lot to lose in the first place anyway. She felt the sand twirl around her wrists, rush softly, ever upward. Creeping, creeping, creeping. Down her arms, up her spine. Mockingly gentle. Across her face. Against her neck. Through her hair. She could even feel it slipping quietly along under the edges of her clothing. She blushed despite the imminent danger and instead of whimpering like she was as helpless as she was, she bit down harder on her lip. Harder, harder until the sharp metallic tang of blood leaked into her mouth. Then the sand seemed to thrum against her and she could swear she felt glee coming from it.

Sadistic bastard!

Couldn't he just hurry and get it over with?

Must he play with her like she was some kind of cat toy? A ball on a string? He wouldn't be so interested if he broke his new toy. That was for sure. She refused to be treated like this. Even if she died she would do it with dignity. She would demand that he fight her instead of dangling her around in his sand as if she was nothing more than a feather. She'd rather go down fighting him then to die because he was just playing with her and 'Oops, guess she really was as fragile she looked'!She silently fumed and opened her eyes.

When had he gotten so close? If she moved her head forward even a little she would bump foreheads with him. She was so close she could see the seams in his clothing. Smell the sickly sweet scent of blood wafting up from his body. She felt sick. The implied intimacy made her feel even more sick. And there was still that damned sand gliding across her skin, her face, so softly it almost felt like a caress.

He was mocking her.

It was as if he had been reading her thoughts from the beginning and was making fun of her pain. Her existence. She couldn't move under the weight of the sand coiling around her arms and legs but she still defiantly raised her eyes to meet his. She dared him to take it further. Where? She didn't know. Just that his touch made her physically ill.

She felt it before she heard it. A low vibration that rumbled through his chest, through his sand, and straight into her own body. It reminded her of a cat purring. It would almost be a comfortable feeling if it wasn't coming from him. If it wasn't him laughing at her. If it wasn't him proving how easily he could kill her. It would be like a candle being blown out by a gale. She hated that it would be so easy. How could she have not noticed him?

But then she could hear it too. A deep sound, which surprised her considering how small he looked. And then there was that high pitched keening noise mixed into it. An undertone of insanity. She couldn't help but shiver, he seemed to like that. It was the most disturbing thing she could ever remember hearing. Even more so then the sound of bones breaking.

He sneered at her.

And then if it was even possible he moved closer to her. So close that she could feel his breath, hot and bitter, on her face and his sleeve brushing against her sand covered arms. Why hadn't anybody come to save her yet? Where the hell was everyone? This was Konoha! This was an open street for god's sake! He was about to tear her apart, she knew it, and it didn't seem like there was another soul on the street to see it happen. Would they be able to recognize her when he was done? Would they know what had happened when he was gone?

She glared at him and grit her teeth, preparing for what was to come. She swallowed another mouthful of her own blood. Sick, sick, sick! She was so sick! He leaned forward, her breath froze in her throat, and then he inhaled deeply. She shuddered. The sand curled around again. Another coil like a snake eating it's own tail. Covered. Hidden.

He took one more breath in and licked his lips slowly. His voice was deep, as smooth and silky as the blades of her scalpels. How it cut!

"Sakura... You look so... lost..."

Then with a violent shove and a rush of sand he was gone.

She was left on her knees, too weak to stand once he wasn't there to support her. She shuddered in the dirt, alone.

She shook in the summer sun.