Title: Iris

Author: LadySable (LJ)/StoryBard(here)

Pairings: GaaNaruGaa

Rating: T

WARNING: This story has heterosexuality and homosexuality. If either offend you, this is not the story for you.

SPOILERS: For chapters 546-548. This is extremely spoilery, so, if you have not read the chapters, and do not want to be spoiled, do not read.

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto.

Summary: AU/AR Gaara adopts a pet unlike any other.

Chapter 10: Suffocation

"The good reporter is an emotionless being."

Heart pounding, he gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed, unseeing.

His left hand reached up, and hovered over his scar, so close to touching it, but not quite. His chest tightened, for a moment, then he sat up. His eyes roved around the full moon lit room, before stopping on the papers at his desk.

The apartment was quiet, the only thing he heard was his heart, pulsing. He swallowed, and unwrapped himself from blankets that entombed him like a coffin.

A pale foot glided to the floor. He crept over to his desk, and sat in his rigid, black chair. He clicked his red pen, and began to write on sallow paper.

A wracking cough echoed in the room.

"Gaara, you shouldn't be up," Yashamaru said, coming into his room, a tray with a bowl of soup balanced in his hands. He set the tray down on the side table, and moved to place a cool hand on Gaara's forehead. "See? You've got another fever. Let's get you back in bed so you can eat something, then go to sleep."

The red head peered one last time out the window, where his brother and sister were playing together, and closed the small writing pad.

"Yashamaru? Does Father hate me?" he asked as he crawled into bed.

Yashamaru hesitated, and then said, "I don't think he hates you. He just wants the best for you, even if that means keeping you in your room at all times."

Gaara sighed.

"Here," Yashamaru said. "If you eat all of the soup, I'll teach you how to write the next kanji."

"Really?" the red head perked up. "What's the next one?"

"It's called ai. It's the noun form of love. For the verb form, it's ai suru. So, I love you is watashi wa anata ga ai suru."

There was a soft bang.

He looked around as if coming back from a dream, and noticed that his room was still enshrouded in darkness, save for the lone lamp light, and his alarm clock, showing that it was three fifteen.

He looked down at the paper, and moved the tip of his pen away from it. He'd pressed down too hard, causing the pen to bleed red ink.

"What funny hair you have," a girl giggled, lifting a red lock. "It's so different."

He ignored her, writing down what was going on around him. His teacher told him that since he already knew how to read and write, that he could write while everyone else was supposed to be learning how to read.

"Hey! Hey! Leave him alone, Emmy," a boy said. "He's a freak, and you'll catch his freak germ."

"F-Freak germ?" she asked, dropping the lock of hair, and moving to the other boy's side, watching Gaara like he was an animal.

"Yeah, see, he looks freakish, with those rings around his eyes, and red hair. He doesn't talk to anyone, and he's always alone. You don't want that to happen to yourself, do you?" the boy asked the girl.

"N-No."

"Then you have to say, 'go away, Freak!' You'll be safe, then." The boy flexed his nonexistent muscles. "If that doesn't work, then I'll protect you."

"Gaara?"

The red head's breath caught in his throat, and he coughed.

He looked over at the jiggling doorknob. It was locked.

He wheezed as he breathed in the acrid scent of cleaning products.

It was just after school, and he was in the janitor's closet.

"The perfect place for a Freak!" they laughed outside the locked door. Gaara tried to open it, but they would just tsk, and say that he wasn't playing along. Then they left.

It wasn't until five the next morning that the janitor found him. He was sent to the hospital, the chemical filled air invading his already weak system.

The first thing he wanted to do when he returned to school was to punch the boy who'd locked him in. He'd gotten away with his 'practical joke' with well-timed tears, and sobs of 'I didn't know!'

Gaara wasn't so forgiving.

He was beaten. He hadn't expected to win, not when it was three against one, but he'd broken the first boy's arm. He was only bruised.

His teacher frowned at him in the nurse's office, then sighed in defeat. She handed him a pad of paper and a red pen. "Here, write down your side of the story. I'll take it into consideration when I dispense your punishments."

He had no dinner that whole week. The first punishment he'd ever received at home; punished because his father didn't want his failures to be flaunted in the public's eye.

Only Yashamaru cared enough to check on him, to talk to him.

"You shouldn't hit people," he said, disinfecting a cut on Gaara's cheek. "The only time you should ever hit another person is if they're hurting you, or someone precious to you." Yashamaru snapped the first aid kit shut, and stood.

"Will you teach me the next kanji?"

Yashamaru smiled, "Not tonight, Gaara. It's late."

"Gaara! Are you okay? Hey!"

Something hit the door. Hard. The sound rang in his ears, but then fell back into a steady hum. Almost like background music, but he didn't want this background music. What did the smiling blond know?

He was invading again; skewing the truth.

It was November, and Yashamaru was teaching Gaara how to write 'lonely' in Japanese, when he suddenly asked, "Do you love me?"

Gaara looked up at his uncle. "Yes," he said, clutching the top left corner of his shirt, the closest he could get to clutching his heart. "You make this pain go away," he opened his clench hand, showing.

He grinned up at Yashamaru, and then recoiled at the dark aura surrounding his uncle.

"Y-Yasha-?"

"Don't. Don't say my name with your filthy mouth," Yashamaru seethed. "You smile so freely, not even thinking about how your mother even felt, how anyone felt about her death. You were never wanted. I never loved, no, I never even liked you."

"W-What?" Gaara shuddered. "I-It's a lie, right?" he pleaded, looking up at the man. "Yashamaru!"

"Your whole life is a lie," Yashamura said, going out the door. His back was the last thing Gaara saw of him, as his knees hit the floor, tears falling down his face.

His door flew open; intruder infiltrated.

He was dragged out of bed.

It shocked him enough, that he complied to being dressed. The strange woman smelled funny, and he dodged every attempt she made to touch him, having not been touched in over a month, having not seen anyone in over a month. Paper filled the floor, not one was blank. The woman would flinch as she accidentally read some of his writing.

Then he was pushed out the door, and forced into the backseat of a black car. His brother and sister were sitting there, but they made room for him.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior, Gaara," his father said from the front seat.

He gave his father an apathetic look, and stared out the window of the car.

It stopped outside a graveyard.

His father led them down rows of tombstones, his hands lovingly placed behind Temari's and Kankuro's backs, until he stopped in front of a tombstone that had a hole in front of it. Gaara looked around, but the only people there was his family, if he could call them a family, the minister, and some men, who looked uninterested in the proceedings.

He almost asked about Yashamaru, an instinctive question, but stopped, and glared at the tombstone they were in front of. Then he froze.

Yashamaru.

The tombstone said Yashamaru.

He jerked out of his frozen state when one of the men accidentally bumped him. They were lowering the casket, and as it floated down to level with the earth, Gaara saw Yashamaru's unblemished, but motionless face. The make-up couldn't hide the signs of death on him. Then the casket was closed, and the earth swallowed him up.

Gaara choked. He was dead. He wouldn't ever be able to say that it was all a lie. The small ball of hope he had, that maybe it was a lie, was crushed. Crushed into a dust so fine, that he couldn't even see a grain of hope left.

That night he found a knife and carved the lie into his forehead before passing out on the kitchen floor.

He felt as if he was in a coffin, being buried, trapped. The blond was burying him. His arms on either side of his chair, blue eyes boring into his.

"Gaara? What the hell is wrong with you? It's past noon! Have you eaten anything today? Or drank anything for that matter?"

Yashamaru's face had looked like that, before, but it had been a lie. But wasn't that a lie?

"Are you okay? Hey! Talk to me, please!"

Gaara clutched his scar, throbbing, gasping, suffocating in blue eyes, dark earth.

His father had left a will. He didn't expect to be mentioned.

Yet, he was dragged along by Temari at the insistence that, yes, there was something for him.

Temari and Kankuro got the house, and other worldly goods his father deemed necessary or convenient. The lawyer gave Gaara a letter. Addressed to him. He opened it; either he was begging for forgiveness as a failure of a father from his grave, or he had last parting words to give his failure of a son.

He read the first line. Then crumpled up the letter.

"Gaara!"

Hands shook him.

The red head removed the hands from his shoulders, glaring up at the blond.

"Get out."

"Wha-?" Blue eyes widened.

"Leave."

The blond stepped back. "Are you kicking me out?"

Gaara stood up, drawing his fist back.

"Stop," the blond said, voice cold. "I can let myself out."

Gaara was left to bury his grave.

"Did you hear his dad died?"

"I bet he killed him. Just look at that scar, and his hair. Red as blood."

He opened his eyes, and patted the spot next to him, reaching, feeling for the warmth that used to be there when he woke up.

Looking up at the ceiling, he clutched the empty spot, and sat up. His clock told him he was late. He glanced over at the other side of his bed. This would be his third time late in as many days. Since he left.

No. Since he kicked him out.

He stood up, and trudged to the bathroom.

His hair was dripping from the shower. He looked at his toothbrush, alone in its cup. Naruto's toothbrush was orange, and it had a tendency to touch his that would bug him, but no matter how many times he fixed it, it would go back to touching his. He brushed his teeth.

He dragged himself into the kitchen, grabbed his keys, reaching to grab the granola bar that was always there, but all he did was scrape the counter. He looked at his nail, and then left, going the short trek to work.

He was making dinner on Thursday. Ramen.

His brother wasn't even bugging him. When he went into work on Tuesday, he glared at his brother, daring him to come near him. Only for his brother to just give him a worried glance, then go to his own office.

His chest nearly caved in, the disregard hurt.

On Friday, his office door opened, and he forced himself to look up from the manga in his lap with a noted slowness. He didn't want to scare another person away. It would be the tenth time this week.

He watched in surprise as Kankuro set a plastic bag on his desk. His brother dug around in it, handing Gaara a to-go box. He took it in reflex, then set it down near the pile of finished articles.

Kankuro grabbed his own to-go box, and sat in one of the office chairs. He took a bite of his sandwich. Then he said, "You were late every single day this past week. You're lucky you had Monday off, or you'd be in a lot of trouble with the Head. He doesn't tolerate lateness from just anybody, you know."

He ate another bite.

"You need to eat something. Have you ate at all this week?"

Gaara shrugged.

Kankuro frowned, and then said, "Bridget left you something special in your to-go box. She said that she hopes you two will come by sometime soon. She's never had so much fun."

Gaara froze, he felt like something was lodged in his throat. He reached over to the to-go box, and opened it.

"She said they were your favorite."

He stared at the same lunch he had ordered the one time he'd gone to the restaurant, and two cookies, wrapped in dainty napkins on the side. No one knew he liked cookies. No one except-

He picked up a cookie, and gently broke a piece off, and ate it. It was cold comfort.

He finished it, and nibbled on the sandwich. "Thank you," he said softly.

Kankuro looked down, and shook his head, "You shouldn't thank me. Blondie called me and Tem Sunday. He said that you weren't feeling well, that if you avoid work for too long to check on you. Temari wanted to check on you that night. I stopped her, though. You needed some space."

He paused, and took a minute to eat some fries. "I wasn't going to even butt in, except that you're coming in late to work, and you don't seem to care about that fact at all. The Head's not going to get on your case about it, he'll just fire you. The Veteran is still on leave. He probably won't come back, he's in the hospital. So, that just leaves me.

Did you get into a fight with Blondie?"

Gaara stiffened, and then looked down. He traced a face in the manga with his finger, stalling.

He heard his brother shift, clothes rustling.

"I-I had a nightmare," Gaara said, looking away from Kankuro. "I sound like a child, but it shook me. I haven't had one for so long, and then all of a sudden," he gestured with his hands, trying to show what he meant.

"It's probably not 'all of a sudden,'" Kankuro sighed. "Blondie is starting to get to you, and you're still having issues because of Uncle."

Gaara nodded absently, and said, "Some old memories came up, and he, he got too close. It was too much. Too-"

"He destroyed your zone?" Kankuro offered helpfully. "That seems like him. More than willing to help other people out, even if they aren't ready for it."

The red head looked away, something was lodged in his throat again. "I-Yes, he barged in-I haven't even checked to see if my lock is broken, or if he managed to pick it-and shook me. I lashed out. I wanted him gone, and I was ready to make him leave using whatever means possible, even my own fist."

"That doesn't seem like you," Kankuro said, eating another fry, then pouting into his to-go box.

Gaara passed over his own to-go box, and Kankuro frowned at him, then shrugged. He removed what was left of the turkey sandwich and the cookie, leaving those on the desk, then ate some fries. "What do you mean by that?" he asked Kankuro when the brunette was settled.

"Well, you stopped hitting people after you turned six. I guess you just got engrossed in writing, or something, although, it does help that Father paid that one lady to homeschool you until second grade. Then everyone just avoided you.

"The only time you ever react physically is when you need to lie, and yet, you can't lie. You've never told a lie in your entire life. Not even a white one. Like, when I asked you if you'd eaten this week, you couldn't answer to my satisfaction, so you shrugged. The more you feel you need to lie, and are forced to say something, the harder you react," Kankuro said.

Gaara glowered at him, "Did I miss some part in your life when you took psychology?"

Kankuro laughed, "Nope, I just know you, but, you know, there's this pink haired fem who's gone to medical school, and she's warming up to me again."

"She's gone to medical school? Why did she become a reporter, then?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll ask Blondie about it. Speaking of which, you should look for him after work, if you really want him back," Kankuro said, standing up. "I have a feeling that, unless you go after him, he won't be coming back. He's making this your choice, he won't push you."

Kankuro patted his stomach, and frowned, "Now I'm going to have to thank him for recommending such a good restaurant. Who would have guessed that, behind the silly name, there was a really good chef."

"You talked to him?"

"Connus?"

"No, the blond."

"Oh, yeah, this morning. I know you, but I needed to get you something that you would eat, and he's the one around you the most." Kankuro paused, and said, "Stop looking like I betrayed you. Wait," Kankuro said, shocked. "Y-You're sulking!"

Gaara glowered at him, "No, I'm not."

"Is it because I talked to Naruto? Oh my gosh, it is. I just know it is."

There was a tense silence before Kankuro spoke up again.

"Did I tell you?" Kankuro asked him excitedly. "I think Karin's finally warming up to me! I might actually get a threesome!"

"In your dreams, Kankuro," Sakura said, hitting him on the head. "Sorry to interrupt, Gaara, but we," she pointed towards herself, and a magenta haired woman in the doorway, "need Kankuro to approve of something."

Gaara stared at the two women before nodding, wondering if naturally pink haired women was a sign of the apocalypse soon to come.

He unlocked his apartment door, and entered, wanting to dodge the attack that wouldn't come, but couldn't bring himself to do such a reaction after three days of catching himself in the act of doing so.

He kicked off his shoes inside the doorway.

Then froze as a familiar smell wafted towards him. He turned to look at the table where a bowl was innocently placed in his spot. He went forward to investigate the contents, and noted that it was his blond's favorite food. He stood silent for a moment, but heard no one moving in his apartment. Yet, the bowl was hot underneath his fingers.

He turned to look at his apartment door. He knew. Then he looked back down at the bowl. The corners of his lips twitched. Naruto would push and shove himself into your life, but his brother was wrong. All his blond was doing was giving him space, but he wouldn't let anyone go. If he ignored this ramen bowl, another one would show up the next day, and the day after that, until he caved. Yet, it was up to Gaara to decide when he would cave.

He was already buried, what was a few more rocks?

He hesitated. Fingers lingering on the warm bowl. Then they slid off as he headed to the door, tripping over his shoes.

Gaara opened the door, then frowned.

He peered around the door sill. He'd expected the blond outside his door smiling at him, not slumped against the wall.

"N-Naruto?"

The blond turned and looked up. He gave Gaara a shaky smile.

Gaara hesitated, and then said, "Come inside, please."

The blond was inside his house in an instant.

The red head closed the door, and lingered by the doorway. He watched as the blond set his small duffle bag in the living room, and as he frowned at the bowl on the table.

He turned, and said, "I made that for you. I would have tried something more to your taste, but," Naruto fumbled. "You know, I burn things, and, yeah," he trailed off.

Naruto looked down. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced myself into your room, I just wanted to help and, I, I should know better, by now," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I mean, that's what instigated my fight with Sasuke, although, I'm learning that there were lots of things building up to it." He looked down and shuffled his feet, "W-Will you forgive me?"

Gaara tilted his head slightly, "Naruto, you were forgiven the moment I opened my door."

Naruto smiled at him, it was soft and gentle, unlike his more energized smiles, unlike his fake smiles. He wanted to bask in that smile forever.

He looked away, and said, "I-I had a nightmare, that night." He paused, not looking at Naruto. "It unsettled me."

He wavered for a moment, and then cold hands were cupping his face. He looked into concerned blue eyes.

"Would this be easier in the bathroom?" Naruto asked.

Gaara paused, then nodded.

Naruto looked into his eyes, and said, "You don't have to tell me. Everyone has their secrets."

"No," Gaara said, he lifted his hand, and touched Naruto's tanned one. "I want to tell you."

Naruto nodded, and then removed his cold hands from his face. He grabbed the small duffel, and headed into the bathroom.

The red head lingered by the door, his gaze trailing around his apartment. His eyes paused on the sliding glass door, and he took a firm step towards the bathroom.

Naruto was just getting into the bathtub when he slipped through the door. The blond was completely submersed up to his chin in the steaming water.

Gaara knelt near the tub, and touched the blond's head, "Were you cold?"

The blond nodded, "It's a lot colder here, at night. I wasn't out there long, but it was enough to chill me."

He reached around the tan man, and grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. Then he set them to the side and gently dunked Naruto's head into the water.

Gaara ran tender fingers through the blond hair, and then began to shampoo it, lingering.

"My scar," he paused. Then began to talk fast, "It's a Japanese kanji; it's called ai, and it means 'love'. My... uncle taught me some of it when I was little. I was premature, fragile, and would get sick easily. Many times I couldn't do much. I was left in my room, alone, except for my uncle. He would come in, and read to me, but then I started to learn to read myself, and my uncle helped me," Gaara stopped, and took a deep breath, calming himself.

"I wasn't a genius, or anything like that. It was just that I had nothing better to do, so by the time I got into kindergarten, I could read chapter books by myself. My teachers had no idea what to do. I was advanced in reading and writing, but a beginner when it came to everything else, including how to interact with kids my age.

"Anyway, my uncle started to teach me Japanese, a little. He and my mother had Japanese parents. They moved here when they were little, though, so they didn't have many memories from Japan; he taught me what he could remember."

Gaara ran his hand through the blond hair, and then reached for the conditioner. He kneaded it into the hair. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and whispered, "I felt it was appropriate after he told me that everything he'd done up to the point that I turned five, was a lie," he stopped.

After a minute passed, Naruto's wet hands were intertwined around his. He'd stopped washing the blond hair. Gaara gazed at it, and ran his fingers through the blond strands; the tan hands fell back into the water.

"I wasn't fine with it, it hurt so much, but at least," he paused. "At least it seemed final. My uncle died a month later, he'd been sick for a while, and he wouldn't ever be able to tell me that it was different, that I was loved. It was right after my uncle died that Temari started to try and interact with me, but I didn't want anything to do with anyone at the time. I thought she was just feeling guilty, and it took me a long time to realize that if she was only around because of guilt, she and Kankuro would have left me a long time ago. I didn't make it easy on them."

"So what changed?" Naruto asked calmly, as Gaara repeated the cycle on his hair.

"My father left something for me in his will. Rather, it was something he'd kept from me. It was a letter from Yashamaru. There was a month between the night he lied to me, and when he died. I'm unsure-I don't know what he went through during that time. I kept myself locked in my room, only leaving to make myself something to eat when everyone else was asleep. I don't know when Yashamaru had the time, or even the energy, to place a letter under my door, but it was there where my father found it.

"He took it, and the only kindness he ever did for me was to put it in his will.

"Yashamaru wrote that everything that night was a lie. That he had never hated me. Yet, what kind of person is willing to tell someone, anyone, that kind of lie? I've read stories where the character does it to protect someone, but there was no protection in this lie. If there was, he wouldn't have felt the need to write a letter. If he truly loved me, would he be able to lie so convincingly? There had to have been some truth in it. I don't know what to believe."

He was shocked when Naruto turned in the water and grabbed his head, forcing him to stare in pained, sad blue eyes, "Gaara, the truth is what you make of it. Only you can decide what's true or false. The only truth is as you know it. No one else can make you believe something you don't want to."

"I was-he manipula-lied-to me. He-"

"Hey," Naruto said, his voice soft, "I didn't say that they couldn't trick you into believing lies, but you don't have to believe those tricks. There's always a little bit of truth in every lie, and a little bit of falsehood in every truth because there is no absolute truth." Naruto moved his hands away from Gaara's face, "But wouldn't it be nice to believe he did love you?" Gaara swallowed, and looked down. "I'm sure he did. No one would spend that much time with their nephew if they truly didn't care. Kind of like Temari and Kankuro."

He couldn't answer.

"Gaara?"

He looked up and Naruto was a blur.

"Oh, shi-!" the blond was turning in the bath tub, looking for something, his hands waving back and forth. He was floundering, making water slosh over the tub. "Where did that freakin' towel go?" he yelled, and then it was quiet.

Naruto was next to him in the tub, dabbing a wet towel over his cheeks. "Dammit, I didn't mean to make you sad or anything."

Gaara started laughing. Covering his face with his hand, he laughed.

"What did I do, now?" Naruto asked with petulance.

Gaara shook his head, and stood up. "I've done my part. I'm going to head to bed now, I'm tired."

"Oi! You jerk! Tell me your sob story, and laugh at me, then leave me in cold water! Is that any way to treat a pet?"

Gaara paused by the door, and cocked his head, "But you're not a pet. You're a friend. And Kankuro said, 'friends abuse friends to show their love'."

"Watashi wa anata ga ai suru."

A/N: Naruto got a status upgrade! And Gaara shouldn't be taking advice from Kankuro. XD

On another note... *whimpers* It's a good thing characters aren't real. So many authors (and fanfiction writers) would be going to jail for the terrible things they do to them. ;_;

Seriously, this is my third draft of this chapter, and it wasn't until I got to writing this one that I realized how utterly horrible it was what I was doing to Gaara. ;_; Not that canon is any better, but still, and another fanfiction story I'm working on right now is even worse than that.

Ah, and this is about as close to gratuitous Japanese as I'll ever get. Also, just to note, for those not taking Japanese (I'm below a kindergartener, though, in Japanese :'( ), ai is the highest form of love. It means that no matter what, you will always love them, even if they were a demon, or something. It's... agape? It's hard to explain in English, because we only have like or love that could be used in that sort of context, love being the highest, and agape, and ai is higher than that... if you put love on a scale.

Anyway, so if you really want to tell your lover, a friend, or a relative that you love them in Japanese, just switch ai suru with 'suki da' (kind of slur on the suk part) or 'daisuki da' (same with the suk part it almost sounds like ski, but with a little 'u' in it, and dai sounds like dye (or die)), unless you really feel it's agape. Daisuki is a little higher up on the love scale than suki. Just don't go to Japan and start saying watashi wa anata ga ai suru! 'Cause they probably won't like you too much for doing that, and also, that's the informal way of saying it, so don't use it on anyone you don't know. They'd probably be insulted. However, I've only been taking Japanese for three years, so if I'm doing something wrong, please, feel free to correct me.

Oh, and the first name last, last name first, is kind of gratuitous. I blame that on Shikamaru's Japanese VA. There's a scene with Shikamaru, right after Pain destroy's Konoha and just when Naruto gets there, where he says "Uzumaki Naruto" and something about it gives me good shivers. I don't know if you'll be able to find the exact moment where he says it, but it's definitely worth checking out (or maybe I'm just weird?). So, yeah, that's the whole reason for the name flips.