When he got back to the house, Temari was struggling to make the awkward western beds and Kankuro was trying to fix the taps for the kitchen sink so they wouldn't leak. Neither was in a good humor. Gaara went into the living room. There was a poorly executed painting on the wall of a boy in blue with a big frown and a spilled ice cream cone. Temari had brought the photographs of their mother and uncle, and now they were set up on the mantle with candles, along with a small sand sculpture of the Kazekage's house. Gaara stared at the pictures for a minute, then went and sat down in a corner, hugging his teddy tightly. While darkness filled the house he listened to Kankuro spluttering and swearing in the kitchen and Temari stamping up and down the stairs.
"Gaara!" Temari came through the house looking for him. "Where are you?"
She finally found him, huddled in the corner, and the looming thunder clouds faded for a minute.
"Hey," she said in a softer voice, "I've got your bed made. Come on, you must be tired."
Gaara didn't answer, but he got up and followed her up the stairs. She helped him into his pajamas and tucked him in.
"I'm in the next room, okay?"
The boy's only response was a sullen look, then he rolled over with his back to her.
Kankuro was finally making progress on the rusted pipes. Temari came into the kitchen and dropped down in one of the rickety chairs, resting her chin on her hand.
"Everything okay?" Kankuro asked.
"I don't know, I've never seen him like this. It's like he's a totally different person."
"Well, he and Yashameru were really close."
"I can't believe father would tell him to kill Gaara."
There was silence for a minute, then Kankuro wiggled back out from under the sink and sat up.
"Yeah."
"I mean, getting other shinobi to randomly attack him to train his reflexes is one thing, but this time he was really trying to kill him. And using Yashameru, of all people." Temari frowned, "He was the person Gaara trusted most, the person who would have had the best chance."
"He was our uncle!"
"I know."
The boy fiddled with a wrench. "Our whole family's screwed up, it's not just Gaara."
"But father says–"
"It was his idea to make Gaara!" Kankuro looked away, "And it killed mother, and now Yashameru's dead. Because father sent him to kill Gaara."
Temari winced.
"Gaara's changed," she said, "Always before he was sad and all that, but he just looked unhappy. He didn't look–mad. He's hardly spoken since that day!"
"Yeah, it used to be he'd come to the shop and beg me to play with him. But I actually went and found him last week and asked if he wanted to play, and he just scowled at me and walked away."
"There's something wrong," said Temari. "It's like he's completely shut everyone out."
There was silence in the kitchen. Finally, Temari broke it.
"Well, we'll just have to do our best to keep him out of trouble for the next few weeks. At least nobody here knows him so they won't be freaking out."
"Yeah. That's one good thing about living in this junkheap."
Upstairs, Gaara was staring up at the cracked ceiling of the room. There had to be some purpose for his life, some reason he went on existing. It didn't help that his hand was itching.
It was raining when he woke up. Slow, steady rain that looked as though it could go on all day. He stayed in bed for a while, until Temari knocked on the door and said she was making breakfast. When he got up he found a few ounces of sand in his bed, dark and heavy and unresponsive. He still had sand he could control, but it was turning dark as well and seemed hard to move. Feeling troubled, he took one of the clumps downstairs with him.
Kankuro was in the study, working on the arm of the practice puppet he had brought. Temari was standing by the stove, attempting to make omelets. The battle could go either way. Gaara climbed into another chair and put the clump of sand on the table. He put his hands around it and concentrated hard, trying to move the particles. It felt like lifting rocks instead of grains; the sand was so much heavier than before. What was wrong with it?
"No sand on the table," Temari said automatically.
Kankuro came into the kitchen with a hand off his puppet. "Man, I can't get the hang of this delicate stuff at all. I'm gonna practice at meals."
"Not you too!"
"Is there any tea?"
"Yeah, I borrowed a strainer from the ladies in apartment two. Miss Spink and Miss Forcible, can you believe it? Actresses," the girl added, rolling her eyes.
"Geez."
"Tell me about it."
"Hey, what's up with your sand?" Kankuro leaned down to look, "That's weird."
"What is?" Temari asked.
"It's all dark and funny. When did it get like that, Gaara?"
The younger boy shrugged without taking his eyes off the clump.
Temari came over to look.
"It's wet," she said. "Did you take it in the bath with you?"
Gaara shook his head.
"It must be the weather," said Temari, looking at the rain streaming down the window. "The air is really damp out here."
"You're right. I didn't think of that."
Temari looked at the window as well. I wonder if father thought of that? If Gaara's sand gets all wet, he won't be able to protect himself like usual. "Wasn't there a fireplace in the living room?"
"Yeah, it's gas."
"Why don't you see if you can get it working?"
"First the furnace, now the fireplace," Kankuro grumbled, "I'm never going to get any practicing done."
After a moment, both siblings started at the sudden smell of smoke and Temari rushed back to the stove.
"Don't go outside while it's wet like this," she said while they were eating. "And spend some time by the fire when Kankuro gets it going."
Gaara didn't look up. Kankuro was using his jutsu to manipulate the puppet hand into lifting his teacup, with varying success as his concentration wavered. The boys made their way through as much of the soggy, partially burned omelets as they could and quit when they'd eaten enough to appease Temari's temper.
Temari then did the dishes while Kankuro went to see about the fireplace. Gaara went back upstairs to get his teddy. A minute later, he came running downstairs in uncharacteristic haste.
"What's wrong?" Temari asked in surprise.
"My bear's gone."
"Gone? Are you sure it's not just hiding under the blankets?"
"It's gone," Gaara repeated with certainty.
Yashameru gave him that bear. He's always had it with him. Temari sighed and dried her hands. "Okay, I'll help you look."
They looked in the bed, under the bed, and all through the room. Then they looked around the house. There was no sign of the bear. Kankuro, when questioned, was as puzzled as the others and checked the windows upstairs. They were locked. Gaara didn't cry or fuss, but his scowl deepened and he went into the living room and sat in a corner.
Later that morning, Temari stepped out onto the porch and found a grimy package addressed to Gary. She took it inside and opened it; it contained a note and a doll that looked exactly like Gaara. The note read, Hey, Gary–look what I found in Gramma's trunk. Look familiar? Wybie. Temari stared at the doll; the clothes were just like Gaara's, it had the same red hair, and there were black circles around its green button eyes. There was even red stitching on the forehead where his seal was. For some reason, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickling.
She went into the living room.
"Gaara, do you know anyone named Wybie?"
The younger boy nodded.
"Who is he?"
"His grandmother owns this house. He has a cat."
Temari hesitated. No one ever talked with Gaara back home. Perhaps, here, where no one knew about the Tailed Beast, he could make some friends, even for a short time. She held out the doll.
"He left this for you."
Gaara took the doll and studied it for a minute, then hugged it and curled back up in his former position.
Temari went to find Kankuro.
"That is just weird," he said. "Who would make a doll that looked like Gaara?"
"The note said he found it."
Kankuro frowned. "Found it already looking like Gaara?"
"Maybe she made it when they told her about us," Temari suggested. "She probably felt sorry for Gaara."
"That must be it." Her brother still looked bothered, but he went back to his puppet. "This place sure is a freak house."
