The clock on the wall shows 3:00AM, as she silently slips into her apartment. Closing the door quietly behind herself and then locking it, she places the keys in the ashtray on the small table beside the door. Settling her tired body onto the couch, as the front door opens directly into the family/living room, her emerald eyes drift over to the small end table on which the phone sits. The red light on the message machine blinks; she'll need to check the messages before leaving for school in four hours, if she can get some sleep between now and when she'll need to wake up to make her brothers breakfast. With a soft sigh, her gaze moves to the only two framed pictures her apartment contains; both are family portraits.

One was taken before everything fell apart; the other just after they had come to Konoha. But, if she's perfectly honest with herself, she thinks, as she runs a boney, pale hand through short blonde strands, things fell apart long before that first picture was taken. She supposes that she could compare the events in her life to that of a baseball hitting a window; as she's an English major, she thinks it's only right to use a metaphor for her life. Though she doesn't know how her brothers would take to the comparison, she supposes that it doesn't really matter; it's all in her head anyways, so they'll never need to know.

Things began to go awry the first time the ball hit the glass. A small crack appeared; it wasn't much to be concerned about, but enough to take note of. This event coincided with her birth. To be the eldest of such a powerful family in Suna should have been a great honor, should have made her the heir to a prestigious company; of course, that would've happened had she been born a boy. Being born a girl… No higher disgrace could have been done to the name of Sabaku. From what she learned as she got older, her father wasted no opportunity to make her mother aware of this; he wanted sons to take over the company, not some weak daughter who could be used as a marriage asset at best.

The second time the ball hit the window; the crack grew a bit larger. Still, it wasn't much to be concerned with, but something that could very easily become so. This happened when Kankuro was born. Though her mother, Karura, never did tell her father of what had happened, her uncle, Yashamaru, a doctor and the one whom had delivered both Temari herself and Kankuro, knew of the lasting effects. If Karura wished to live, she would have no more children. Temari had never understood what complications had been caused – that medical gibberish still went over her head to this day – but she knew that something had gone wrong when her mother was pregnant with her younger brother.

The third time the ball hit the window, things changed drastically. No more was it just a crack, something that could be easily overlooked and corrected at a later date. This time, a spider web of cracks had formed, and even though the window hadn't shattered yet, anything could break the glass into millions of shards at any moment. This was when her youngest brother, Gaara, was born. It was also the night her mother died. Not only that, but on that cold, frigid night of the nineteenth of January, a deep-rooted hatred for the thing that had taken the life of his beloved sister was planted in Yashamaru's heart. This was as he held the baby with hair of blood, skin like snow, eyes like cold jade, and as he watched the only woman he could ever love die.

Naively, little Temari had thought that the cracks in the window which represented her life would begin to mend, but they only became more fragile. After almost two years of living with their uncaring father, Temari, Kankuro, and Gaara were sent to live with their uncle, Yashamaru. He had had a close hand in helping raise them over the past two years, and so it seemed only natural that they go to live with him. That was when things began to become strange. As each child was getting settled into their own room (Temari had helped the almost-two-years-old Gaara with his, and the then-almost-three Kankuro as well) Yashamaru had made sure that Temari's bedroom was right next to his own. He had also extended the invitation to her that she could come and get him whenever she needed to, even if it were in the middle of the night.

She noted that he hadn't extended the same to her brothers, but didn't think anything of it at the time.

It was a cold, autumn night three years later when the glass of the window finally shattered. They had been happy enough, living with someone who seemed to actually care about them, but Temari had never been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong – that something bad was going to happen. But, being only nine at the time, and still naïve to the evils of the world, she could never have dreamed of what would happen. Having been sick lately, Uncle Yashamaru had been checking her over each night to make sure that everything was as it should be, but tonight Temari had been feeling much sicker than usual; so, Yashamaru had taken it upon himself to give her a full exam. Temari didn't know what that meant until it was too late.

Never would she forget the feeling of her clothing being stripped away, of that voice which she had come to associate with safety whispering things into her ear in the semi-darkness. "So like your mother, my little Tema-chan…" he said to her, as she whimpered softly, feeling her t-shirt and jeans being slipped off of her barely-budding body. "Just as beautiful… Your hair like gold… Eyes like gems… So beautiful…" She hadn't been able to cry out, as she felt the fabric of her undershirt being stripped away, sliced in two by a delicately-wielded surgeon's scalpel. Her underwear met the same fate, and then… she felt his hands upon her body. Looking up, she could remember having seen the war going on behind the violet-purple of his irises; the war between the clinical detachment he should be examining her with, and the lust for the woman he couldn't help but see superimposed upon her young body.

Hands, words, violation… Temari lost more than her innocence that night. She lost all faith she had in romantic love, and in ever loving a man. She supposes that, that night was the moment when her conscious switched to that of loving women, but she can't really be sure, even looking back on it now. All she knows, is that she should have noticed those black-rimmed jade eyes at the crack of be bedroom door, and that she should have been able to cry, when she was finally left alone. Of course, that was when she began to see emotions as a weakness, something she could only share with her two younger brothers – she knows that for a fact. She also knows, that upon the night he molested and raped her, she lost all love she ever held for her mother's brother.

After that, when news that their uncle had been found brutally murdered reached the three siblings, they were returned to their father's home. To continue the metaphor, this was the time when the gaping hole left by the smashed glass would be covered with paper, until a new window could be purchased and fitted into place. She supposes that she should have been more discrete with her close affection for her brothers, especially for Gaara, as he was growing more anti-social by the day, but she also knows that she never would have thought that her father would tear her away from the only real family she had, to send her off to an all-girls boarding school. And all because she loved the child that he had deemed a monster.

Temari's years at the girls' school were much less than pleasant. She became brutal and harsh, knowing that if she could survive the drama, spite, and just pure nastiness of the girls, that taking down boys wouldn't be any problem for her. She was proven correct, when she found herself in numerous fights with the boys from the boys preparatory academy next door to her own school. Despite this, however, she kept her grades up, and made it a sneering point to always be at the top of her class. During the breaks from school she would go home, and though she and her brothers were ignored as before for the most part, it was when she was around thirteen when the beatings started.

Though she would act as a shield for her brothers whenever she could, Temari knew that during the times she couldn't be at home Gaara would get the brunt of the abuse, with Kankuro only getting it if he really deserved it. By the time she was sixteen, Temari knew what she would have to do. As soon as she graduated, she would get custody of her brothers, and take them to a new place, where they could have a happier life. It was also around this time that she met Tayuya, the fuchsia-haired flutist in their school music class. Despite the fact that the two would have extremely nasty fights, they quickly developed a close bond. Most often, when they weren't trying to kill each other, the two could be seen making-out or chatting like the best friends they were.

The two told each other everything, and slowly, very slowly, Temari began to heal from the pain inflicted upon her by her uncle and father. Though she would never admit it to herself, Temari found herself falling hard, head-over-feet, in love with the cinnamon-eyed spitfire. When she was eighteen, just before she graduated, Temari cut her previously-shoulder-length blonde hair into a short, boyish style; her four gravity-defying ponytails were gone, and so were the physical reminders of her past pain (Uncle Yashamaru had said he liked her hair best like this, and her father had always forbidden her from cutting it, saying she was dykish enough already). After graduation, she and Tayuya had gone back to Suna, the blonde of the pair intent upon freeing her brothers from their abusive father.

The custody battle took all summer. Temari suspects it would've taken longer, had their father actually given a shit. But, in all events, she emerged from her fight as two things. Firstly, and most importantly, she was now her brothers' legal guardian. Secondly, and slightly less importantly, she was a much stronger person for it. Both Gaara and Kankuro had been asking her throughout that summer why she would do this, why she would do this for them. Well, that had been Gaara's question, if veiled; as for Kankuro's... He hadn't been happy, but she hoped he would come to understand why. If he didn't – she wasn't sure how she would handle that situation.

Of course, by the time the end of the summer had rolled around, it seemed that neither of her brothers had come to understand why. Temari suspected that it was because of different reasons for both boys. For Gaara, it was because he was still trying to figure out emotions at all; and Kankuro, it seemed, just didn't want to understand at all. So, as they drove away from the courthouse, in Temari's silver convertible sports car, that final day, to pack Gaara and Kankuro's things to they could move to Konoha, she finally answered their questions.

But, of course, an answer wasn't the only thing that happened that day. "You two've been asking me all summer why - now I'll tell you both why." Her voice was quiet and steady, but it held an undercurrent of care. "I did that because you're my little brothers, and because I love you. What other reasons do I need; right Tay - ?" her words broke off, as the blonde looked over to the woman who had been seated beside the emerald eyed woman, her fuchsia hair spilling out of that hat she always wore in a haphazard fashion, just how Temari had always said she liked it best, as it mirrored her personality.

And yet, as the name died on the blonde's lips, the only sign that her best friend, confidante, and lover had been there was a disappearing trail of dark pink hair, as she raced off down the sidewalk.

As Temari looks back on it now, she recalls that the only reason Tayuya had been able to get out of the car at all without dying was because they had been stopped at a red light. That moment was the last the blonde had ever seen of her lover, and only now, four years later, will Temari admit that she has finally given in to the truth. She had loved that magenta-haired woman, and still does, with all her heart. Rousing herself from her memories, the blonde looks to the second family portrait, and notes the many differences between it and the first. Some are obvious, while others would only be known to those whom had lived the events which transpired between them.

Firstly, the occupants of the second picture were almost ten years older than those of the first; they had been nine, six, and five in the first, and had been eighteen, sixteen, and fifteen in the second. Secondly, the fourth occupant, their Uncle Yashamaru, of the first picture was not present in the second, as he had been killed some months after the first had been taken. Lastly of the obvious changes, the occupants' styles had changed. As children, slightly dirty shorts and t-shirts had been their usual attire, but in the second picture, it was quite easily seen that they would each have belonged to different groups at their schools. Gaara seemed to have developed a rather goth, punkish style, along with having the kanji for love tattooed above his right eye; while Kankuro was the exact opposite, seeming to have become rather preppy, with his slightly rumpled dress shirt, and clean, fitted jeans. Temari herself had retained her tomboy style, but it had been taken further; now, she wore loose dark-wash jeans, a band t-shirt, motorcycle boots, and a black leather jacket.

As to the not so obvious, in the first photo, they actually seemed happy, while in the second, Kankuro just looked annoyed, Gaara looked bored, and Temari herself seemed exasperated at the other two. Even if the stances of the occupants of the first photo were slightly questionable – Temari had an arm about each of the younger brother's necks from behind, and had pulled them close, while their uncle Yashamaru had his hands upon Temari's shoulders – they seemed truly happy, still innocent of the world. In the latter photograph, each sibling stood a measured distance away from the other two, even if Temari was a bit closer to her brothers than the two boys were to each other, and they all seemed to not want to be there.

With a sight at her useless musings, the blonde yanks herself back to reality and stands from the couch. The clock now reads 3:30AM – she just spent half an hour thinking about her past, and musing upon the changes she and her brothers have gone through. Slipping off her shoes so as not to wake either of her brothers, though she knows Gaara doesn't sleep, she thinks he should probably at least have peace during the night, she makes her way to her bedroom. Closing the door softly behind herself, she moves to her closet and places her shoes upon its floor.

Removing the jacket of the black suit she wears to work, she places it upon the back of her desk chair before proceeding to change into her pajamas, which are a simple navy blue pants set, made of cotton and good to wear in any weather. Glancing at the digital clock upon her small nightstand, she notes that it is now 3:45AM. As she gets into bed, she hopes that she can get at least some sleep tonight, before her alarm goes off at six thirty. But, if she doesn't, she knows she'll need to part with some of her hard-earned money to buy coffee to get through morning classes.

But such is life, and as tomorrow midterms start, she knows she'll need all the sleep – or coffee – she can get.

A/N: Yeah, pretty random, I know, but I needed to write this as a way to put some things into continuity, and into a more comprehensive form, for a roleplay site I'm in. No worries, though – that is, if anyone even cares – all my other projects won't die… As soon as life lets me get around to finishing them, of course… So, with that said, if my idiocy and/or random writings haven't scared you off, please drop me a review; I'd like to know what you thought of it. (And yes, if you were wondering, the site is AU.)

See you guys next time!

~Haru.