He is as patient as a statue, and as idle, and as silent, until he speaks. Naruto is tapping his fingers along the hard oak, and Sakura looks at the ground, nervous around the demon child that had caused so much damage--and so much healing, as well. She eventually leaves, and this is when Gaara turns fully to Naruto, puts out his hand and flattens the pointlessly fluttering digits against the tabletop.
"The last time we met," he says in his toneless way, "you were shining. You had the sun in you. A cloudless sky, and that is how I could look up at you and be saved." Blonde hair like a halo.
There is no emotion, because Gaara hasn't become comfortable with feelings yet. He thinks he understands it fleetingly, the way Naruto watches him with the pain filling his eyes like hot oceans.
"There are clouds now. There are storms." Your sun is covered up. "Tell me, Naruto," and he moves closer, removes his hand because Naruto's has stilled, searches his face like a dying man sifts all through the desert for water. "Where are you hurting?"
His face collapses in on itself scars and all, and it is several minutes of silent, burning tears and voiceless sobs before Gaara continues, "I will save you if I can."
He is touched, he really, truly is, but his heart hurts too much to say anything. He thinks Gaara understands, though; they've always understood each other, from the very beginning.
He wipes his face on his sleeve and is looking up with raw eyes when Tsunade comes back, flushed, glancing around warily and asking if the bastards have come to a decision yet.
If she notices Naruto's distress, she says nothing. This could be tact, or she could be drunk.
Sakura notices, stepping into the room from behind her sensei, and she says nothing. Her eyes only fall wetly.
Gaara says that there isn't any hurry; he can stay a few days. Tsunade looks surprised, and she does look at Naruto--something catches in her expression, and she looks distantly sad, now, instead of pissed.
Then she's pissed again because she has better things to do than to wait for a bunch of old farts to make up their minds on insignificant details. No one mentions that she's just as old, as they quite enjoy their natural bodily processes.