A/N: Here is the second update I promised! Enjoy!

When I called into work the next day Tsunade screamed at me, telling me if I was late then I probably didn't feel well and if I didn't feel well I needed to tell her. Somehow, the conversation ended in me getting a week off that I didn't want to take off, but she just wouldn't take no for an answer. I sighed and brushed a hand through my hair, deciding to grab a shower before I went out for breakfast while making a mental note not to go to the deli.

When I had finished showering and dressed in a part of jean shorts, a white tank top with a dark blue flannel over, and a pair of dark blue converse that matched the flannel. As soon as I was dressed I left my apartment, the aches from the fight the day before returning by the time I reached the street. I got several funny looks from people, presumably from the bruises that were probably there, but even I was surprised when I looked at my reflection in a shop window. My whole left cheek had turned a dark purple and bruises dotted over my legs and there was also bruising on the backs of my arms from my being thrown to the ground.

I suddenly felt self-conscious looking so beat up in public and nearly jumped when someone linked arms with me and began leading me away from the window. The first clue to my companion's identity was a flash of red that caught my attention. I stared at Gaara the whole time he led me along, but he refused to look at me until we entered a small diner and got us a booth in the back. As soon as the waitress had left he looked up and opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead winced.

"Are you alright?" he asked, motioning to his cheek so I'd know what he was talking about. I simply shrugged paranoia and suspicion at him not allowing me to relax. He must have noticed my tense demeanor because he reached across the table and brushed his fingers across my bruised cheek lightly enough that it didn't hurt, but hard enough his touch left behind tingles on my skin which pissed me off. "I'm sorry I couldn't step in, my father wouldn't be excited about me spending time with the only person stopping him from turning this whole city into a crime riddled madhouse. I ended up telling him I'd lured you there so he could kill you, so don't believe him if he tell you that."

I didn't understand Gaara's need to explain what had happened to me, he didn't owe my anything. I simply lifted a brow at him, but after his explanation I found myself relaxing more. "So, what happened to your work addiction? I can't see you choosing to take time off," he chuckled and if his sudden smile hadn't been so surprisingly stunning, I would have been annoyed by the comment.

"My boss forced me to take time off." That seemed to amuse him because he sat back in his booth, his smile turning to his signature smirk that made me want to smack him. "Don't look so smug!" I grumbled, grabbing my napkin and kneading it in my hands. I tore small pieces off of it and stacked them in a pile of the table, looking for an outlet for my nerves.

"Nervous?" he chuckled and I shot him a glare, comforting myself by telling myself I was only nervous because he was the son of Sandman.

"How do I know daddy won't show up and try to kill me again? I still hardly know anything about you," I pointed out. "At least this time I'm not in heels so I have a better chance at running," I scoffed and focused all my attention on my napkin. When he replied, I was somewhat surprised by the angry tone he took.

"I tried to stop you when you ran out into the hallway. I didn't know my sand would freak you out so much." His shoulders were hunched slightly when I looked up and he looked slightly bothered, an expression I hadn't seen on him.

I sighed, setting down the remains of my napkin on the table with its ripped up pieces and decided to try and make peace with him. I didn't know why, but I didn't like us fighting in the least. "I'm sorry for not listening to you, but I'll admit you freaked me out when you turned your arm to sand and then told me your the son of Sandman, the number one criminal in the city might I remind you." He looked like he was about to retort something, but our waitress arrived and took our orders.

He asked for a full combo plate while I stuck with a small plate of pancakes, my nerves were killing my appetite that had been ravenous earlier. When the waitress had scurried off to fill our orders he turned to me, looking me straight in the eye, and stated, "I never meant to scare you. You wanted to know things about me and I figured that was the best place to start." Thinking about it, he was probably right.

Any other information about him wouldn't make sense without knowing how he was related to the underworld and why he was so deep in it. "And while I may be Sandman's son, that doesn't mean I'm some murderous bastard who thrives for blood," he paused before adding more quietly, "not anymore anyways." That comment bothered me and I stared at him, urging him to continue. He seemed to get my message because he reached for a sugar packet and tore it open, pouring the contents into his empty coffee cup. He began to shake the coffee cup to stir the sugar around and spoke softly in a voice that I barely recognized as his, "When I was growing up I was pretty fucked up. My mom died giving birth to me, I'd partially turned to sand inside her and it tore her body apart, so I had only my father to raise me.

"He taught me the ways of the underworld, taught me mercy was the quickest way to an early grave and I believed him. I constantly fought and was always in trouble at school or with the cops, a daddy's boy." He stopped shaking the cup, turning his focus back to me. "Then I found you. After I told my father about you and he had me start following you, I became fixated on you. I was so confused on why you gave up so much to help people that only spoke about what you could have done better. It infuriated me how happy you looked when I knew things were hard for you. Honestly, I was so jealous."

"Gaara, I-" He shook his head, letting me know he had to finish before anything else could be said.

"And then one day it clicked. I don't know if you remember this, but there was an apartment building burning down in downtown. You showed up and pulled all the people from that burning building and you inhaled so much smoke and had more than your fair share of burns. You came stumbling out of the building and handed that little kid to its mother and she just stared at you and cried, sobbing thank you over and over again. At that moment, I got it. You didn't do it for the fame or to be praised, you did it because you truly enjoyed helping people." Somehow my hand had slithered across the table and his had lifted to meet mine, our hands becoming linked in the center of the table.

"I just started losing faith in my father, everything I'd grown up around because of you. I began understanding how wrong everything I knew was. For a couple weeks there, I wanted to kill you for ruining everything." I didn't pull away when he admitted that. The brutal honesty of his confession and the way he spoke stopped me from fearing him. That and the odd quickening of my heart rate whenever he was near. "Then, I figured that you were right and I was wrong, simple as that. Ever since then I've followed you, watching you and keeping an eye on you. So many times I've wanted to help you, but I know I can't. To the public eye, I have to be the bad guy and you this city's superhero. I can't fix who my father is; I just have to live with it."

Hearing him say that, like he was giving up on ever being better than his father, made my heart plummet because in the few days I'd known Gaara I'd already figured out he was a far better man than his father even had the potential to be. I tightened the grip of our linked hands and whispered, "But not everything has to be in the public eye."