Title: Dark Soul

Series: Story #2. Sequel to 'Sand Walker'

Fandom: Naruto / SG-1

Author: Shi-koi

Warnings: Gaara-centric, violence, blood. Normal Naruto-verse stuff. Alternate timeline – Gaara isn't the Kazekage yet. Note the 'yet'. The writing style changes from present to past tense in places, usually when Gaara has to interact directly to another person during a scene, so be prepared for that. Eventually it will have chunks from Naruto's perspective as well, but not for a long time.

Genre: Crossover, action/adventure, mild angst.

Pairings: None

Summary: (Crossover) (Naruto – SG-1) Sequel to 'Sand Walker'. Set after the fight at the Valley of the End, and before the beginning of Naruto Shippuuden. This is one vision of Gaara's journey to be human.



Gaara stood before the Hokage. The deceptively young-looking blonde woman scanned him with sharp amber eyes before motioning for him to sit down opposite her desk. The Hokage, Tsunade was over fifty years old and one of the Legendary Three Sannin of Konoha, yet she didn't look a day over twenty. It was said she could heal any wound with her medical skills and her strength was so monstrous she could split a mountain in half with a single punch.

Whether the rumors were true or not remained to be seen, and Gaara wasn't dumb enough to pit himself against her.

Tsunade sat back in her chair and leveled a cautiously blank stare towards the redheaded boy opposite her. Gaara just stared at her with his cool aqua eyes, his face a blank mask. He'd been called in to see the Hokage after a team of ANBU had been dispatched to find out who or what was behind the frighteningly large chakra felt in the center of Konoha.

Gaara had gone peacefully, partially glad to get away from the broken look in Naruto's blue eyes. He couldn't understand what it was about the blonde that made him so emotional, that made him so quick to snap and lose his temper. Whatever it was, Gaara didn't want to face finding out just yet.

"Do you know why you were summoned here?"

Gaara stared, before shrugging his shoulders and looking away.

"Is there any particular reason for the presence of a Sand shinobi here in Konoha?" Tsunade asked eventually, steepling her hands on the desk before her, the tips of her fingers just brushing her chin. "Are you here to deliver a message? Maybe trade? Or are you trying to...scout?"

Gaara didn't answer.

"Look, Gaara, I don't have a problem with you being here...but I do have a responsibility to this village. I need to know why you're here. Why there was a sudden and very large amount of chakra suddenly released in the middle of the town." Tsunade sighed.

"Why is Naruto being confined?"

Tsunade eyes widened just enough for Gaara to catch. "What? Naruto? Naruto isn't being confined. Not that it's any of your business."

Gaara's eyes were dark when he stared at her. "I know."

"No. You don't." Tsunade stated succinctly.

"Do you care about him? Do you worry about him?" Gaara asked, his voice emotionless, which for some reason sent a shiver down her spine. "Is he just another piece on your board?"

"You're stepping into dangerous territory, Sabaku no Gaara." Tsunade warned, her eyes flashing amber for an instant. "It wouldn't take much to revoke your pass."

"You would have to explain the reasons to the Kagekage." Gaara pointed out. "You would place strain on the relations between the Sand and the Leaf simply for a few...questions?"

"I don't need to justify myself to you." There was anger simmering in Tsunade's voice.

"What are you trying to hide? Or do you truly not know...?" Gaara found himself taking pleasure in the fact that he could hear the Hokage grind her teeth.

Tsunade stood and leant over her desk, her fists firmly planted on the thick wooden surface. "I don't know what your game is, nor do I truly care – but Naruto is none of your concern. Your questions are an insult. You are implying things which have no place here."

"If you are innocent of any misdeeds, and you honestlydon't know why... then I have to wonder, Hokage-sama; just how much are you aware of?" Gaara said blandly. "Of which implications do you speak? Are you...concerned, because I ask about Uzumaki Naruto...or it it truly the questions themselves which offend you?"

Gaara stood, and walked to the door. "I would suggest you find out about that which is important to you. You are on the brink of losing a treasure, Hokage-sama, a treasure which Konoha would suffer dearly without. We both know that the Chakra display was centered in the apartment of Uzumaki Naruto, and that it wasn't all his."

Gaara turned slightly, just enough for Tsunade to glimpse the utter severity of his expression. "I came, because I was drawn to Konoha. I did not know why until I came across Naruto, and I don't honestly know why I wanted to stay, or why I will be leaving soon. I am willing to find out why. Are you so willing when it comes to your own?"

"Get out." Tsunade hissed darkly.

Gaara left.

It was only after the redhead left that Tsunade wondered about the gourd that was missing from the teen's back.



Naruto was waiting outside when Gaara left the building. They walked in silence, the blonde shadowing Gaara's steps. They passed through the streets, filled with shoppers and vendors and people out taking advantage of the warm evening air. Gaara ignored them, taking pains to ensure no emotions showed on his face, even when bitter tongues lashed the youth beside him. He ignored the glares directed at Naruto, and the few centered on himself for daring to walk beside the outcast of the village.

No-one dared get to close, or to throw anything at Naruto, for which Gaara was grateful – he didn't really want to get blood on his hands in a village not of his own. For the most part, Naruto ignored them as well, hiding the flinches beneath wide vacuous smiles and dully open plastic blue eyes.

Gaara was suddenly reminded of Kankurou's painted dolls. Naruto looked like a doll. Lifeless but mimicking those around him. Invisible chakra strings controlling his movement and his expressions, painted on with the brush stroke of a master actor and artist.

Gaara wondered what what would happen if someone cut the strings. Or if they frayed beyond repair.

They didn't stop walking until they reached the meadow they'd fought in, a handful of hours earlier. The glass sphere was still intact, surrounded by a ring of blackened grass. Naruto looked vaguely apologetic when he saw the remains of Gaara's gourd. He alone knew how personal the sand it contained and was created from was.

Gaara placed a hand on the shimmering sphere. Even solid, as it was now, Gaara could still feel the essence of life contained within it, pulsing lightly for those sensitive enough to be able to see or feel it.

"Sorry." Naruto said, breaking the silence.

Gaara glanced at him sideways, one hand still gently stroking the smooth domed side of the glass. "Why?"

Naruto shrugged. "I really wanted to try out that new jutsu, but I didn't think about what it would do to your sand."

Gaara snorted, turning back to the sphere. "I like it." And that was a surprise, because when he said it Gaara realised that he did like it. It was something he could place in his special treasure room, something unique and his. Gaara knew he wasn't going to tell Naruto that though...that was just...too much information. Personal information. What would he say anyway? 'Thank you for partially creating a gift for me?', no. That would mean revealing too much about himself underneath his carefully created outer persona.

Naruto's eyes were slightly more open than before, the dullness a bit less than earlier. "Really?" he asked, doubt lacing his voice.

"I can make more sand." Gaara said then, wondering why he was bothering to explain.

"Oh." Naruto scrunched his face up. "But it's not the same, is it? I mean...well...you know, you've been feeding that sand and taking care of it and it's kind of – alive."

Naruto paused. "I'm making it sound like a pet, aren't I?"

Gaara felt amused. "Just a little bit."

Naruto looked uncomfortable. "This new sand you can get...make...whatever, it's not going to be quite the same, it it?"

Gaara thought about it for a while, Naruto looking a little bit more uncomfortable and a smidgeon...forlorn? With each passing moment. "It won't be as powerful." Gaara stated eventually. "Maybe not as fast. But I can get it back to full strength after a few missions."

Naruto's face contorted into a weird expression, even for him. "But you could get hurt, right? Because that other sand of yours, you've been feeding it all your life."

"I guess I should have been quicker on my feet then." Gaara said, allowing a thread of amusement colour his tone. "I tend to rely on one defense a lot when I'm fighting. If anything, your display showed me I really need to start practicing some other moves."

Gaara patted the glass before walking away, stopping when he was in the center of the ravaged meadow. He could feel Naruto's eyes on him as he concentrated on pooling his chakra underneath the surface of the soil, a good depth down, searching for the necessary minerals needed to create his own sand. The Fire Country was especially good for this sort of thing. Stone Country came close, but they mined a lot and too many mineral-rich veins were destroyed regularly. When Gaara delved into the earth he could feel the missing pieces. No, Fire Country was definitely the best for recovering and creating sand. It was always best when dried out in his own Wind Country, but the first process was the most vital.

It took effort, and chakra, a helluva damn ton of chakra to filter through the soil, much less compress and sear it into something approaching pure sand. Then it had to be cleaned – an odd concept considering how he usually tended to it – and refined. That was only the beginning. The entire process would only take around two to three minutes for crude sand, but for the kind Gaara was after, the process could take anywhere up to three or four hours.

Sweat beaded and ran down Gaara's skin, across tensed and straining muscles and shivering limbs.

Naruto had no idea how much Gaara trusted him to watch his back. He was completely defenseless like this, at the mercy of any aspiring enemy shinobi and in an outside village to boot.

Maybe Naruto would never know. But to Gaara, this was a way of saying he was a friend.

You don't kill friends.

The stars were out, twinkling in the clear night sky by the time Gaara finished and had his gourd reformed on his back. It was a pale gold, quite different from the rich bronzed red-gold it had been before.

Gaara felt relieved at the burden on his back. It was a familiar and welcome feeling, if different from before.

"Is that...It? The gourd?" Naruto asked.

"Yes."

Naruto frowned at him – no, at the gourd. "It doesn't look right, or feel right. It seems...lighter. Not as menacing."

Gaara stared at him. "It's weak. There's no presence in it yet. Once mother feeds for a while her strength will fill it."

Naruto shuddered. "That's just creepy. Calling Shukaku 'Mother'."

Gaara blinked, although that seemed to happen in slow motion he was so tired. "I do not call Shukaku 'Mother'. My mother is in both of us. She was the first offering of blood." Gaara clenched his fists and looked away, and Naruto could see he hadn't meant to tell even that much.

"Sorry. I didn't know."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

Naruto stepped forwards, his hand hovering, but not quite daring to touch the sand gourd. "It's hungry, isn't it?"

Gaara shrugged. "A bit. I'll find a few animals on the way back to Sunagakure that'll keep it satisfied."

Naruto nodded absently, still staring fixedly at the pale sand. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and then smiled at Gaara, pulling out a kunai and slicing open his palm with one deft stroke until the bone showed. Before Gaara could react Naruto pressed his hand against the sand, hissing when he felt the sand pull at the skin, absorbing the blood as fast as it poured out.

Gaara froze, a look of confusion and...pleasure...encompassing his usually stoic face. Naruto was a creature of power, of pure energy, and the sheer amount of that energy, of that massive power flooding into his sand, and him, was unbelievable.

The intense potency of that charge of chakra that Naruto fed to him, and to his sand and ultimately Shukaku defied comprehension. For a few minutes Gaara was unable to think, to speak, to do anything other than ride the heady waves of power that Naruto gave through his shed blood.

There was a soft cry of pain, but Gaara couldn't move. Eventually coherency returned, along with his wits and thought processes. But the rush stayed with him. Everything felt lighter, and Gaara felt that he was connected not only to the earth beneath him, which was usual for him, but to the very air itself, to every blade of grass, to every tree, every flower and each and every living particle in a sixty mile radius. A small part of his brain that wasn't fried wondered if this was how Naruto felt all the time. If it was, there was no wonder he hated hurting people.

The implications of that thought faded under the onslaught and aftermath of the rush of Naruto's gift.

The feeling slowly faded, leaving him in his own skin with his usual level of perception, including the many miles of dirt beneath his sandaled feet.

Naruto was on his knees beside him, his forehead pressed against the soil. He was cradling his arm, so white it seemed like bleached bone. There was a terrible wound spitting open his palm, but no blood came out. His muscles were exposed, bones and tendons gleaming horribly in the clear moonlight.

"Naruto..." Gaara whispered softly, falling to his knees beside Naruto. "What did you do, Naruto?"

Naruto gave a shaky laugh, his body trembling with the force of it. "S-sorry. Just, j-just wan-wanted to help."

Gaara had to strain to hear Naruto's faint voice. He scrubbed at his forehead. "Shouldn't that have healed by now?" he asked.

Naruto didn't answer him, but Gaara knew he was right. "Shit." He tugged at the excess fabric he had wound around his waist as a decorative belt, wrapping the red-brown fabric gently around Naruto's hand, pressing the edges of the wound closed as he bound it up.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" Gaara asked, frowning when he realised he still couldn't see any colour returning to Naruto's exposed white arm.

Naruto raised his head just enough to shake it in the negative, before accepting Gaara's assistance to stand. He swayed on his feet and looked as terrible as Gaara knew he must feel. His skin was pale, too pale beneath his tan, his eyes looked pained and he held himself like a wounded animal.

"Just...get me h-home, Gaara. Please."

Gaara nodded, and without having to even think about it, the sand stirred, fairly vibrating with the force of it's own energy, excitement seeping through into Gaara's blood as it rose and encompassed both Gaara and Naruto, turning in on itself as Gaara commanded it to transport them both safely to Naruto's apartment.

The sand held Naruto upright while Gaara moved him to the bed. Naruto was unconscious, and Gaara stared at him, wondering about what he'd said earlier. Naruto was really acting as though he held no worth beyond that which he could give to others. Naruto had always held a self-sacrificing streak when it came to his friends, and an extremely strong innate sense of self-preservation and survival when it came to his own well-being.

At least, he had three years ago.

Gaara was nothing if not thorough, and his investigation into Naruto's life was no exception. He knew everything about him from just after birth until recently. Not so much with his personal relations, but the actual cold hard facts of his life. Gaara couldn't say who his friends were, but he could speculate...unlike his statistics.

So Gaara knew about Naruto's placement in an orphanage when he was a baby, with no parents to speak of. People had wondered if Naruto even had parents, and some still believed that Naruto was the fox demon itself in human form.

Gaara had at least been cared for by his uncle Yashamaru. Never mind the fact that his uncle was the first person to try and kill him when he was six.

When Naruto was six he'd already been thrown out of the orphanage in secret, no-one wanting the then Hokage, the Sandaime, Sarutobi to know that they had removed the Kyuubi brat from their care. At six, Naruto had been living on the streets for nearly two years, the false reports on his care remaining a well kept secret at the orphanage.

It would have stayed a secret if Naruto hadn't almost starved and died, the beating he'd received for stealing some food from a stall was what brought him and his distinct lack of care to the Sandaime's attention.

The Hokage had gifted the six year old Naruto with his own small apartment, basically fitted, the same one Naruto lived in now. It was deeded in Naruto's name, and until his death three years earlier the Sandaime had also paid for Naruto's other basic bills, water, electric and general maintenance, no-one in the village being willing to hire Naruto because of his burden.

Was it any wonder Naruto spent his entire life surviving on ramen? It was cheap, filling and hot, and he could use his small allowance to keep himself fed.

Gaara just took what he wanted. As the son of the Kazekage he was Suna royalty, and he'd learnt early on how to care for himself. His uncle at least had been good for something.

Gaara had his own suspicions about Naruto's origins. He knew it was very likely that he would become the next Kazekage, and he'd been groomed for that position from birth to the age of six, his shinobi training facilitating the rest. He'd seen pictures of the Yondaime and he looked exactly like Naruto, older definitely, and without the distinctive whisker scars, but otherwise he looked just like Naruto.

The same Yondaime which sealed the fox demon inside Naruto.

The same Yondaime who was known as Konoha's Yellow Flash.

The same Yondaime which created the powerful Rasengan technique which is so impossibly hard to learn that only the Yondaime's mentor had ever managed to learn it off his own pupil.

Until Naruto came along and learned it, mastering the technique which took the Yondaime three years to master in under a week.

There were more coincidences, like the Yondaime's mentor, the great Toad Sannin of Konoha, teaching and training Naruto because of rumors that Jiraiya saw his now dead apprentice in Naruto.

Gaara wondered how Konoha would react if they knew they were treating their own royal sacrifice like a diseased cur.

He didn't find the thought funny.

Gaara knew about the secret training Naruto put himself through, but not about the scrolls. Finding out about Naruto's basic past had raised demons – figuratively speaking – from his own. Gaara found himself remembering the many sleepless nights, terrified out of his mind that he was going to fall asleep and get eaten by the demon within him. The demon he'd called mother.

Gaara understood Naruto's need to train in secret, the need to preserve his own sanity by wearing a mask over his own personality. The need was rooted in a desperate bid for safety, the overwhelming urge to protect oneself in order to live.

Gaara knew about the beatings that Naruto went through before becoming a shinobi. He'd had no control over his chakra, had no idea of how to call it out. The Kyuubi seal was too new, too strong for Naruto to access.

Naruto had been helpless. He hadn't had Gaara's sand defense. Hadn't had anyone to protect him, to look after his health. From the ages of six through ten Naruto had been in hospital two hundred and seven times. Each time he'd been discharged within two hours. Yet the hospital kept no medical records for him.

Gaara's informant had been extremely thorough and the only proof of Naruto's mistreatment had been in the sealed files in the Hokage's office.

No matter the severity of Naruto's injuries, the Hospital had found some way of removing Naruto from their premises. Gaara wondered how many times Naruto gained injuries for going to the Hospital.

Reading the files had made Gaara sick.

He'd thought his father was bad.

Gaara had never been wounded, had never unwillingly shed any blood until he was twelve years old, until the Chuunin examination held in Konohagakure. He'd wondered if he was real so many times. Unable to feel physical pain, he hadn't known how much it could hurt, how much it could tear you up inside.

Even the night he and the sand had tattooed the kanji for 'Love' into his forehead he'd been in so much pain from Yashamaru's betrayal that he hadn't felt a thing.

Sometimes he thought Naruto had been lucky to know he was alive. To know he was real. To know he was flesh and blood and still human on the outside. At other times he was glad he had been protected by his sand.

When he'd read Naruto's files he'd felt an overwhelming kinship with him, both of them had been misused, one being battered and beaten on the outside, one being tortured and hurt on the inside.

Both of them had had years to mold a working mask over themselves. Naruto's mask though, his mask was breaking.

Gaara never thought he'd feel so protective of him. In a way, he supposed it was much like the way he felt towards his siblings, although the care he felt for them was shadowed with guilt over the way he'd treated them before Naruto had literally beaten sense into him.

Maybe it was time to return the favour.

Gaara stared down at Naruto's sleeping form. He knew that Naruto was slightly older than him by maybe a month or two, but he honestly felt like he was the elder one and Naruto was the younger brother he'd never had.

Looking at Naruto's crumpled body on the small bed, it was easy to understand why. Naruto seemed so...breakable...frail, completely at odds with his usual guise.

Gaara frowned. Feeling like these were too new, too uncomfortable to think about. They were confusing.

Gaara pulled off Naruto's sandals and tugged the duvet up from under his feet, covering him up to his neck. He untied the hitae-ate and placed it gently on the bedside table, in front of the pictures. He checked the wound, and Naruto's arm, glad when he saw that his skin was approaching something approximating normal colour and the gentle crimson glow seeping out through the fabric signified that the wound was healing.

Calling the sand back to him, Gaara left.



The warm bath and the food he'd ordered at the small bar-cum-restaurant made Gaara feel slightly better. He spent the what was left of the night resting and meditating on the recent events. There was some part of him telling him that he was getting too attached and that he needed to leave before something happened, something irreversible. Another part, the part he buried deep inside argued that what was happening was good, was something he would be grateful for.

Gaara's first instinct was to kill. Not appropriate.

The second was to run. Hide. Be anywhere but here.

Maybe he needed to do something fun to distract himself.

The first early rays of dawn's light found Gaara heading back to Naruto's apartment. He walked slowly, unsure of whether or not he wanted to be there just yet. No-one answered when he knocked, and he was about to leave when a cheerful voice greeted him. There was an underlying wariness in his tone of voice, but more prevalent was the unmistakable friendliness inherent in it.

The man walking down the hallway wore a Chuunin vest and was at least five to ten years his senior. There was a very low amount of power to him, but he radiated a sort of homely comfort, much like Gaara's ideal of a parent. He had a large scar over the bridge of his nose and and warm dark eyes, his dark brown hair was pulled up high in a short, stiff ponytail. He was the man in another one of Naruto's pictures. Naruto had a few of them lying around with him in them, usually in ninja garb, but a few with them both lounging casually.

"Gaara, right?" The man asked.

Gaara stared at him. The man looked uncomfortable for a moment before smiling widely –Naruto's smile-- and rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. His other hand held a few plastic bags.

"Ah, I'm Iruka, Umino Iruka. I didn't know you were a friend of Naruto's." The man, Iruka, said lightly, taking out a key and unlocking the door.

Gaara frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Eh?" Iruka blinked. "I come around every week to check on Naruto. Why?"

"You just walked in." Gaara stated. It wasn't quite a question.

Iruka shrugged. "Naruto's usually asleep. If I come around this early he won't hear me knock. Hence the keys," he jingled them for effect. "Are you coming in?"

Gaara watched as the chuunin pushed the door open and held it for Gaara. It only took a moment, before Gaara decided, and he walked inside, staring at the older man until he turned looked uncomfortable and left for the kitchenette area, leaving Gaara to shut and lock the door behind him.

It was a petty move, but Gaara still felt better.

Gaara watched as Iruka cleaned up around Naruto's apartment, unfolding a bag and picking up various dirty clothes. The bag was placed by the door, too bright with it's many multiple colours to be missed. The counters were wiped and the bags he'd brought with him emptied out on them.

Most of the goods were cup ramen, but there was also a few cartons of milk, some chocolate, a small bag of fruit and berries which were emptied into a bowl on Naruto's table. There was a clear plastic box with onigiri, another with cookies and a small dark bento box which was placed in the small fridge beside the milk. There were a few boxes of juice placed in the cupboard and the last few items, which turned out to be needles and thread were placed in one of the drawers.

Iruka folded the bags themselves up and tucked them in his pocket before making sure everything else was put away, then he turned to Gaara. "Do you want some tea? Naruto should be awake in a bit."

"You didn't check him." Gaara didn't realise his voice would come out quite so...disapproving.

Iruka chuckled. "No matter what happens to Naruto, he's always up and fine after a night of sleep." He looked slightly wistful at this, and Gaara suddenly remembered where he'd seen this man's name before. He was the one who'd passed Naruto. Rumor had it that Naruto's hitae-ate wasn't the usual graduate one, but that it had been Iruka's forehead protector, an item precious to Iruka, but which he'd given Naruto.

Gaara knew from the report that some of the older shinobi had given him a hard time about it. Unimo Iruka, Chuunin Instructor at the Ninja Academy.

That explained why he was still interested in Naruto. It didn't explain why Gaara saw shades of Naruto in this man...or was it vice versa? Was this man the one who'd influenced Naruto's mask, his personality? Gaara's eyes narrowed. If that was true, then there was much more to this man beneath the surface. Still waters ran deep, but sometimes the most obvious were still the most deadly.

Gaara wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"So, uh, what brings you here?" Iruka asked curiously as he made the tea. His movements were fluid and he seemed to know his way perfectly around the kitchenette. Unlike with Naruto, there were no incidents with hot water, or spilled tea powder and when Iruka carried the tea tray to the table and sat down it was done with an economy of movement which surprised Gaara.

He found himself preferring Naruto's tea-making.

"I was...in the area." Gaara said, accepting the tea Iruka poured, but staying on his feet.

Iruka smiled, his eyes closing. "Aa. Sunagakure is quite a distance away and I haven't heard of any missions nearby which required Sand assistance or presence."

Gaara could hear the unspoken warning, and for a moment unquenchable anger surged through him. How dare this man insinuate Gaara was lying!

"But...I'm just a simple teacher. So I guess I could be wrong." Iruka continued, leaving Gaara wary rather than mad.

There was something familiar about this man, and Gaara didn't like it one bit. He was protecting, or at least thinking he was protecting Naruto from Gaara, and for that Gaara was...grateful? Maybe. But for some reason he felt like his territory was being trespassed upon.

Gaara scowled.

"Have you two been friends long?" Iruka continued to smile, but there was still the feeling of Gaara being gently interrogated.

"Wouldn't you know?" Gaara shot back. "You are obviously a big part of his life, you even have a key to his home. Why don't you tell me?"

Iruka nodded, drinking his tea before answering. "True. But I've learnt the hard way that Naruto is his own person, and besides," the smile widened then, "Naruto makes so many friends it's hard to keep up with them all; and he's usually so busy I don't get the time to talk to him for long."

Gaara snorted, and something dangerous entered Iruka's smile. His eyes flashed for an instant, and Gaara was reminded of an injured bird protecting it's nest, luring the predator in by pretending to have an injured wing, by pretending to be harmless.

Iruka placed his cup down in front of him and stared neutrally at Gaara, giving no outward sign of menace.

"Naruto makes friends easily," Iruka said then, "but he hasn't yet learned to guard his heart properly against betrayal." He tilted his head to one side, studying Gaara, who felt uncharacteristically uneasy. "I really wouldn't want that to happen to him again, Gaara of the Desert."

Gaara forced down the urge to snarl...or at least rip the chuunin's throat out. "I'm not the Uchiha."

Iruka sighed, then smiled wryly. "No. You're not."

Gaara decided he was confused by this man. He couldn't figure out if that was an insult or an acknowledgment.

When the dark-haired chuunin showed no signs of leaving, Gaara finished his tea and left the cup on the nearest counter-top. He detoured to Naruto's bed, hiding his relief when he saw that Naruto's colour had returned and that he was sprawled comfortably across the length and width of his bed, his breathing even and steady.

One hand reached out before Gaara realised what he was doing, gently stroking the soft blonde spikes, which felt closer to fur than human hair. Gaara could remember Yashamaru doing the same thing for him when he was four and had had a particularly bad day, although he had no idea why he was remembering that particular memorynow.

Almost defiantly, Gaara turned back to the table, digging deeply into his bag and retrieving the toad statue he'd brought with him from his treasure room. He'd already taken the scroll out and he replaced it with another one of an old jutsu he would never use which he'd intended to trade for while in Konoha.

The original scroll had been ornate and held many pretty pictures as well as writings he'd never seen before which promised many hours of deciphering. Useless, certainly, except as a way to stave off boredom.

"Tell Naruto," Gaara began, "that I will visit him soon. And tell him..."

Iruka cocked his head to one side enquiringly when Gaara trailed off. "Tell him?"

"Keep the statue, and the scroll. Tell him..." Gaara looked away, "...that I'm – grateful, for what he did."

Gaara walked to the door, but paused when he reached it, his hand still on the handle. He took a good long look at Iruka before coming to a decision. "It's good that he has you." Gaara said quietly. When he left, he shut the door quietly, hiding a smirk at the stunned expression on the chuunin's face.

This time, when he left Konoha, it was with an inexplicable feeling of freedom.


Tbc...