Inside My Head

A/N: So I thought I'd try my hand at a GaaraxHinata fic. Updates will be pretty slow in the beginning, but they'll speed up soon enough. The story is set a few months after the Kazekage Rescue arc. Rated M just in case, for possible violent/dark scenes and what not. Here goes nothing.

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

Everywhere he looked, there was blood.

It seeped into the dusty streets of Sunagakure, a deep red stream that lazily crept further and further across the ground, infecting everything in its path. It was there on the beige walls of the old, broken building, smeared onto the stone by the hands of those who had tried to survive, of those who had tried to escape him. It was in the sand that swirled around him, thick and dark, turning the once fine grains into thick congealed globs that hung wearily over his head, framing him in their sinister glow. He could smell it too – a musty, metallic scent that invaded his senses and left a bad taste in his mouth.

And there was blood on his hands; bright, red, almost pulsing on his fingertips, breathing with the life of those it had belonged to, of those who had tried to run away. It almost felt dry, like it had been there for days, but he could see the way it shimmered against his skin. It was fresh. He raised his trembling fingers into the air, each of his nails been stained a deep crimson, and turned his hand over to watch the droplets slide down his palms.

No.

Not this again.

He took a step forward, and then another, ignoring the sickening splat that came with each step as he walked along this wet, sticky floor. He dragged his fingers along the walls of the building, along the bumps and creases of the dried handprints that decorated the stone, leaving his own mark behind in thin red trails.

What was he looking for? He couldn't recall. Did he need to find something, or someone? No, that didn't seem likely. This place was devoid of any sort of life. A way out, then. That seemed like the most probable guess. But where was that? When he looked up, he couldn't see the sky. The ominous black clouds that slowly rumbled by guaranteed that. When he looked forward, there was only red, brown, and more red. When he looked back, it was the same. Was there no end to this carnage?

Even though he didn't have a single inkling of where to go, his feet led the way, moving automatically, as though they had traversed this path time and time again. As though they knew something that he should have known as well.

And then came the laughter.

It was cruel, and deafening, and it came from everywhere; a heavy, hearty laugh that sent chills down his spine. His pace quickened – he had to get out of there, he couldn't let it find him, he didn't want it to find him, not again. But still it followed him, growing in volume, louder and louder until he was down on his knees, blood-stained hands clamped down over his eyes and eyes shut tight, trying desperately to block it out, to hide from it.

But he couldn't, and it found him.

The beast loomed before him, its mouth contorted into what he could only assume was some sort of smile. He raised his head and watched it lean forward, yellow eyes glowing brightly against the black and brown of its body. Its tail sways left and right behind it – the beast was clearly pleased.

It shouldn't have been here.

They'd taken it away.

Why had it returned?

How had it returned?

"You can't run from me," the beast growled in a low, mocking tone. "Haven't you figured that out?"

He didn't answer.

"You've tried enough times," it continued. "Just accept me and start enjoying yourself. You used to be a lot more fun than this."

The beast. The blood, all that blood, it was all the beast, wasn't it?

"You...you did this, didn't you Shukaku?" His voice sounded small and weak compared to the beast's. He wasn't sure it'd heard him.

It had.

"No," it replied, its voice tinted with a gleeful edge. "Their blood is on your hands, Gaara."

"No," he said. "I didn't do this." Louder. "This wasn't me."

"Of course it was! I couldn't have killed them on my own. Why don't you take a look at them? I'm sure you must remember their faces."

Its words opened a floodgate – hundreds of images poured into head, appearing only for the briefest of moments before moving on to the next, all of faces as pale as death themselves, staring at him with glassy, dead, accusing eyes. And he knew them all, remembered them all, he remembered their last moments of life. Why? Why did he recognize them? Ah, that was right. He was the one who killed them all.

"NO MORE!"

He couldn't handle it. But they kept on coming.

The last one hit him the hardest.

It was a kind face. Bright eyed with the warmest smile he had ever known. The warmest lie he had ever known. He could still recall the moment he'd learnt he'd been betrayed, the moment he'd learnt everything had been fake.

The moment he'd taken his first life.

And then it was over.

"This is their blood, Gaara," Shukaku said, sweeping his tail lightly across the ground. "You enjoyed spilling it, didn't you? You savoured each and every second. I remember – I was there."

That was wrong.

Wasn't it?

"You can't pin the blame on me. You killed them. Slaughtered them! And you still want to continue, don't you? There's a hunger in you just waiting to be satisfied."

No.

"No!" He'd finally found his voice again. "That was all because of you! I will never take an innocent life again!"

"You say it like you're certain, but another part of you is thinking something completely different. You know it, don't you? The part of you that conjured me up in this hell-hole you call a head."

"You're wrong," he argued. He couldn't let Shukaku do this to him again.

He wouldn't.

The beast was gone. He'd never have that craving again. That craving to hurt people. To kill. He knew better now. He'd changed.

Right?

"Look around you, Gaara. I didn't make this place – you did. Nobody can run from what's inside their head. What makes you any different? You're stuck with this part of you – no, you're stuck with me for the rest of your life."

And then the beast began to laugh, and he fought to ignore it, fighting his way up, up into the air, the clouds, the sky, fighting as hard to awaken from this nightmare as he'd fought so many nights before.

He awoke with a start, breathing heavily, small beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. How long had he managed to sleep this time? It had to have been longer than the night before. Letting his eyelids fall shut once again, he ran a shaking hand through his bright red locks, trying his hardest to steady his breathing. Damn it! He'd lost track of just how many times he'd woken up in this state. He should've been used to it by now, but it seemed like each night was worse than the last.

He opened his eyes and glanced to the right, searching for the clock that hung beside his window. His vision was well adjusted to the dark by now; he found the light fabric that acted as a curtain, and beside it there was the clock, its hands in almost the exact same position they'd been when he'd gone to sleep.

It read 1:00am.

So he'd lasted for half an hour. It figured. That dream had been one of the most intense yet – he wasn't surprised he'd wanted out so quickly. This dream had been so real. The colours, the smells, the tiniest details, everything had been so vivid. Normally he'd grit his teeth and brave it out if only to get a few more hours of sleep. This time was different, though. This time it had been too much for him to bear.

Letting out a loud groan, he slumped back down onto his futon and angrily rubbed the last remnants of slumber out of his eyes. Once more another night had been ruined by one of his nightmares. How many had he had since Shukaku's removal a few months before? He didn't know. He'd lost count after the first twenty-seven.

After everything that had happened, he'd felt like things just might start looking up for him. He'd thought that he might just have a chance at a fresh start. Even though he'd changed greatly since the Chuunin exams in Konoha, there had always been that place deep within his soul that Shukaku still controlled, that part of him that believed his only purpose in life was to kill. Now, even though it had come at a great cost, he was finally free of that wretched voice inside his head. Without Shukaku there, he could be normal, right? Well, as normal as he possibly could be, anyway. And best of all, he could sleep.

Years of insomnia had deadened him completely to the practice. Sleep had never been a normal ritual of his; it was a completely foreign idea. He'd never been able to just let his guard down like that. How could he? If he slept, the beast took over. But the beast was gone, and that was all done for. He was free.

At least, that's what he'd thought in the beginning.

And then the dreams started.

It wasn't so bad at first. Sure, there had been a few disturbing images here and there, bits and pieces of memories long forgotten or ignored, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. As the days passed, they began to grow more violent, tormenting him with whatever his subconscious decided to dredge up that evening. Progressively it kept on getting worse and worse, and then before he knew it the damned tailed-beast had returned and every night in his head became one non-stop horror show. He had bruises from where he'd slammed into the ground while trashing around in his sleep, and tiny scratches along his arms which had appeared out of nowhere.

Gaara knew it wasn't real. He truly, truly did. He knew that some part of his guilty, deluded psyche had decided it would be fun to torment him with the things he'd done in the past, and that taking on the face of Shukaku would be the cherry on top.

The one thing that he wanted to do the most was change. He wanted to leave his former homicidal self behind and become someone better, someone worthy of leading the people of Suna. Ever since the day he'd been set free from all of his hatred, he hadn't killed a single innocent person. Not one.

But he was anchored to his past, and the enthusiasm he had known before had dwindled over time. Now he wasn't even certain whether or not he had changed at all, or if he was even able to.

"Gaara?"

The voice startled him. His eyes swivelled towards the doorway, and there he spotted Temari in her favourite pair of pyjamas, her blonde hair hanging down her shoulders instead of in its normal four-ponytail style. Had she knocked? He wasn't sure. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that for a second the world had ceased to exist.

"Are you okay?" she asked, deciding to take a step into the room, wary of whether or not her brother would want her to come in.

He could only stare at her for a minute before he remembered he had to answer. "I'm fine," he said. The words were like sandpaper on his tongue. Well, not really, he thought. But he certainly wasn't planning to tell her that. He'd managed to keep his problems to himself the entire time, and that wasn't about to change now. Temari, Kankuro, neither of them could know about this. Not yet, anyway. He couldn't exactly brag about being able to keep it under wraps – already the two had begun to show clear signs of suspicion. Either way, he definitely wouldn't be giving them any confirmation. He would get everything under control sooner or later, and then there would be no need to tell them anything. His siblings deserved better than having to constantly take care of their little brother. He wanted to be the one to take care of them this time. He wanted to make it up to them for all of his past mistakes.

"You didn't sound like you were fine earlier," she said pointedly. "I could hear you yelling in your sleep, Gaara. You sound terrified. I almost thought something was trying to eat you alive."

Damn. Had he really been yelling again? "...Sorry about that. Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter. I'm worried about you, you know. This has been going on way too long. Don't look at me like that, you know it's true. You need to talk to someone. Me, Kankuro, anyone, really!"

I can't, he sighed inwardly, trying to avoid her gaze. I don't want you to worry about me. Let me handle this on my own.

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine. It was just a bad dream, that's all." Her eyes were full of disbelief. "Serious, I must've eaten something weird. But that's not important – you should be thinking about yourself, Temari. It's late, you should be asleep."

"What about you?"

"I'll get up for a bit. I have some paperwork I need to finish."

He fell silent, unwilling to say anything more. She took the hint and exhaled loudly. "Alright, then, Gaara. Just promise me you'll try to get some sleep tonight."

"I promise," he said, if only to appease her. She didn't look convinced at all, and was almost about to complain, but something in his expression made her decide it would be better to leave it alone. Giving him a small wave, she left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

Well, that could've gone worse. At least she'd given up quickly. It wasn't for a lack of trying, though. Both she and Kankuro had tried time and time again to get him to talk to them. Sometimes they came up with sneaky, elaborate plans, and other times they decided to just ask him outright, but the end result was always the same. He simply wouldn't budge.

Now that he was awake, maybe he would get some work done. Or he could eat. Possibly even read a book. Anything was better than trying to sleep.

Insomnia had never looked so good before.

"Kankuro."

"Hmm?"

"Get up."

"Grhmmmm."

"Kankuro, I won't say it again. Get up."

"Don't wmmaaant tfoo – OW!"

Swearing under his breath, Kankuro pulled his arms over his head to protect it from any other assaults. He opened an eye just a bit and tried to get a good look at his sister, wondering whether or not he was willing to listen to her. It was dark and he was tired, so it took a while for him to make out her features. The expression on her face told him that she was upset about something, and that she must've woken him up in order to complain about it.

"I'll hit you again," she threatened, waving a fist over his head.

That was enough incentive for him. He wriggled himself into a sitting position, suppressing a loud yawn, afraid that it would only anger the fearsome kunoichi. He'd had enough of her violence for one night.

"I'm up, I'm up," he said, scratching the stubble lining his jaw. "Why is it so dark? What time is it?"

"It's almost a quarter past one," she replied. "Don't even think about complaining. This is important."

"What is?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "You haven't told me anything else."

Oh. Now he was definitely awake. "Did he have another nightmare?"

"Yeah. Did you hear him too?"

"Not tonight. I was out like a light. I heard him yesterday, though. And the days before that. The kid screams so loud that half the time I'm afraid I'll have nightmares of him!"

"Why the hell didn't you get up then?! You should've heard him earlier – it was horrible!"

"I need my rest too! Even if I got up, what good would I do?"

"You could've woken him up! You could have talked to him! Has he told you anything about what's going on?"

"Nothing at all. I have no clue what's wrong with him. Just when he'd started to open up to me and actually trust me, he shuts up completely. Now he won't tell me anything."

"Force him to, then! Persuade him! You're his older brother, for crying out loud! He looks up to you!"

Kankuro snorted derisively. "Since when?!"

"Isn't that just the natural order of things?"

"Not in this family if you haven't noticed. Seriously, Temari, I thought he would get better after those Akatsuki bastards took Shukaku out of him, not worse!"

"I know, I know." That was what they had all expected. Maybe the people of Suna couldn't tell that something was wrong with their Kazekage – which wouldn't be surprising, considering just how well Gaara masked his emotions – but he couldn't hide anything from his family. They'd gotten better at seeing through him. "He did die, though. That can't have been a fun experience."

"Do you really think it's just that? I wish he'd just fucking tell us what's bothering him already so that we could actually help him."

"Me too. But he's stubborn. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, though; maybe Gaara needs some time away from Suna and away from all of the responsibilities of being Kazekage."

Her brother considered this for a moment.

"Like a vacation?"

She nodded.

"He'll never agree to that. It's a horrible idea."

Temari scowled at him, and for a second she looked like she was about to rip her poor brother's head off. But luckily for him, she was far too tired to even think about attacking. He had to admit, the idea wasn't so bad. It would do Gaara good if he could spend some time away, but the boy would never agree to it. She knew that. It was just wishful thinking.

"Alright then, how about you figure out what we're going to do," she ordered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And come up with something good."

"Let me sleep on it. I'll have a brilliant idea for you in the morning."

"You'd better. G'night."

"Later."

She left his room then, and in under a second Kankuro was back under his sheets, blankets pulled up all the way over his head, giving his futon the appearance of a thick, white cocoon. He didn't know how he would do it, but if there was any possible way to help his brother, he would figure it out. Normally his schemes took a turn for the worst, and he didn't expect anything else he came up with now to turn out any better, but that was just semantics. Whether Gaara wanted to admit it or not, he needed his family. He needed their help. And they were damn well going to be there for him, even if it killed them in the process.

Now if only he could figure out what the hell he was going to tell Temari in the morning.

Oh well.

Sleep first.