The steam in the bathroom was thick as I stepped out of the shower, toweling myself off briskly. I walked over to the mirror and took a good look at my reflection, taking note of how the marks from the last mission were fading from my skin. I saw that the self-inflicted abrasions were a little better, since I had fought the urge to scrub my skin off again, still feeling a little dirty. But at this point I was also feeling a bit embarrassed at having lost so much control over my emotions, that I had actually gone and done something stupid like that.

I sighed, and averted my gaze from the red tattoo still on my stomach, I couldn't bear to look at it, but at least it seemed as though day by day it grew a little fainter. I wrapped my bandages around my breasts, not bothering with re-bandaging my scrapes, since they were all scabbed over now and on their way to healing nicely. I walked out of the bathroom after having put on my pants.

Once out of the bathroom I briefly hunted for a shirt, but after a moment of glancing around, I decided to skip it for now and get something to eat instead, finding myself pretty hungry. I hadn't been skipping meals anymore, and my stomach had returned to normal, the strange bouts of queasiness passing by.

I definitely was beginning to feel much better, I mean I was still depressed, and still had to deal with the new nightmares that had been added to the already healthy menu of options in that category. But I had been working through my own issues, still not happy with myself, but finally deciding that it wasn't my fault. I still felt dirty, still felt his grubby hands on my skin, but I was working hard on suppressing those feelings, recognizing that they were simply useless echoes of the trauma.

All of that I could deal with, but the thought that Gaara hated me now still haunted me. Despite my best intentions, I had let him back into my heart, since he had never truly left. The walls I had put up so long ago didn't keep him out, because he had already been behind them when I put them up. I had promised myself that I would never be hurt again, would never care for anyone so deeply. And here I had done it again, only worse.

Gaara had worked his way deeper and deeper into my heart, despite my attempts to numb myself to him, and now he was wedged in even deeper than he was so many years ago. We had only been children then, our bond had been profound and pure, but now it was multifaceted and even stronger from the experiences we had shared together.

And he had only just remembered our childhood. He now had access to all those memories that were so personal and intimate. And even though I had decided to pretend that nothing had changed, I couldn't help but feel more vulnerable around him. He now knew some of my darkest secrets, and I still wasn't fully comfortable with that.

I just didn't know what to do, I felt paralyzed. It was only now that I had lost him, that I truly felt the depth of my feelings for him, the gravity of the pain and loss making that quite clear. It was as if he had been removed from my person, and the space he left behind was so vast, so unfillable, that I didn't know how to go on. I wasn't sure I would be able to function properly with an endless pit in my chest. It was like I had a cavity in my soul, but it hurt so much worse than a tooth cavity.

And I still refused to think about what that meant. I refused to acknowledge that there was the slightest possibility that I loved him as anything other than just a friend. That was my last shred of armor.

I sat down in my kitchen chair and sighed, rubbing my forehead, indescribably frustrated by how things had gone so wrong. Sure I had been terrified when he had remembered our childhood, afraid that it would change our friendship. I had been afraid that our friendship would turn into something deeper and more intimate than I was ready for, maybe more than I would ever be ready for. But I had still been happy, happier than I had been in a long time.

Why was it that whenever it seemed like maybe I could actually be happy, something happened to make it all disappear?

I groaned and moved my hands and arms so I could do a face plant into the table. "Ow." I mumbled, my voice muffled by the wood. I had forgotten the bruise still on my forehead from head-butting that jerk. I sighed again and turned my face to the side, gazing out the window mindlessly as I contemplated my options.

The dust that floated in the air, visible in the sunbeam coming from my window, caught my attention and I lazily flicked my finger at it, sending a little breeze to make them dance and swirl in the light. I watched, almost enraptured. The simple entertainment was so much easier to deal with than my fucked up head.

All my nonexistent thoughts came to a screeching halt when there was a knock on my door. I groaned and then said loudly, "Go away Temari, I'm not in the mood for company."

There was silence on the other side of the door, and then it opened. My face was turned away from it, but I heard the click and squeak of the hinge. I heaved yet another sigh, the sound becoming repetitive in my ears as it shut behind her. I simply stayed where I was, my head on the table turned away from the door, my hand and arm outstretched towards the window where I was twirling the dust mites around and around. "You should really stop doing that, doors have locks for a reason," I murmured, not really irritated, only mildly annoyed. I hadn't really expected her to stay out.

The length of time that it took for her to respond struck me as odd, since she was always pretty quick to make a pithy comeback. So I sighed once again, and pushed myself up a little, propping my head on my hand and rotating it to give her a dull look of reproach.

My mind momentarily shut down, not able to comprehend right away that the person in my doorway was not Temari, but was instead her younger brother. I froze, my chest tensing as I took in the familiar features.

There was an endless moment where our eyes met, his pale jade eyes staring into my own without any hint of wanting to look away. After a while I grew dizzy and realized that I wasn't breathing, so I was forced to take an abruptly deep breath, bordering on a gasp, but I tried to control it to the best of my ability.

I blinked and looked away, my mind tripping over itself as I tried to assimilate the situation. What the…why…what…why…what is he…why is he here? It simply didn't make sense for him to be here. I blinked rapidly and shook my head, trying to spark something in my brain that would tell me what in the hell was going on. Perhaps I should just bluff and pretend that nothing was wrong?

I cleared my throat and then turned back to him, trying my best to smile normally, but it felt kind of like a shaky grimace on my face. "Um … hi Gaara. What … why are you …eh … why are you here, exactly?" My voice came out unbelievable hoarse and I immediately had the desire to face palm at my stupid rambling sentence. I sounded exactly the way I didn't want to sound, like I was trying to hide something.

Gaara didn't answer right away and instead just stood there and stared, making me exceedingly uncomfortable. His x-ray eyes scanned my face and trailed down to my neck where they lingered and then to my chest, which I intensely realized was only decent because of the bandages wrapped around me. My skin prickled as his eyes went to my arms and wrists, and then moved back up to my eyes, something in them making it difficult to hold his gaze.

I broke the staring contest and instead stared self-consciously at my hands, the raw reminder of my less than healthy ways of dealing with the situation glaring back up at me. I had bandaged my hand, it was too deep of a wound to let heal in the open air just yet. I inhaled and then huffed and cleared my throat again, wishing he would just state the purpose of his visit so that he could leave. I was sure that it was due to some sort of mission, and certainly couldn't be a social call.

I was barely able to hear his quiet footsteps, and probably the only reason I could was because he was intentionally letting me hear him draw closer, since I wasn't looking at him. The air shifted as he came to stand right next to me, his presence nearly impossible to ignore. My stupid heart was doing it's very best to try to crawl up my throat, the pulse pounding in my neck so strong it was making me lightheaded.

A pale hand came into my field of view, reaching forward to lightly touch the back of my raw wrist. My eyes followed his hand raptly, twitching only slightly when his fingertips made feather light contact with my skin. "What happened?" His raspy voice came from next to my ear, and it was obvious that he was talking about the rawness blemishing my skin.

I flushed with humiliation, the emotions driving me to scrub my own skin off not something that I wanted to talk about, especially not with him. There wasn't anything I could think of to give as an excuse to so I simply remained silent.

"I see." He paused for a long moment and then continued, "Temari told me that you are under the impression that I hate you." I gasped and whipped my head around to look at him, my eyes wide.

I couldn't believe Temari! That she had gone and blabbed to Gaara! I stood abruptly, making Gaara take a step back to avoid my head colliding with his. Growling I stalked around the table, incensed, not going anywhere in particular, just aimlessly pacing to exert some of my frustration. "That little … I'm going to kill her."

I paced all the way around the table, only to come face to face with Gaara again, almost having forgotten about him in my aggravation and nearly running into him. He was standing with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. I flinched and turned to go in the opposite direction, only to come to a halt when he caught my wrist very gently in his grasp. I flinched and stopped, but didn't turn back around towards him. Instead, I simply stood still with my arm stretched out behind me.

"She was right to tell me; otherwise I would have never known you felt this way." He said softly from behind me.

"Why does it matter?" I mumbled, still not facing him, afraid of what I might see in his face.

"It matters because you are wrong." I blinked and turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. "I don't hate you. Far from it." His voice was gentle and he seemed sincere as he spoke, his eyes never leaving my face, never exhibiting that furtiveness they had shown after the near-rape.

I sucked in a shaky breath, not daring to let myself hope. "Perhaps you don't hate me. But you must feel some sort of … disgust, or disappointment, or anger towards me after …"

He cut me off, "No. I feel none of those things. I feel … I care about you." The last few words were said a little softer, almost tentatively.

I trembled, inhaling a shuddering breath as I fought to keep myself from crying, so confused now that I just didn't know what to do. Were his words true? Did he truly not care about how I had failed? I shook my head reminding myself that I had not failed. I turned towards him fully and he released my wrist. My arms came up to wrap around my middle, trying to guard myself.

"Then why didn't you talk to me or look at me on the mission after … what happened? If it wasn't disgust then what was it?" My voice wobbled despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

He blinked, looking uncomfortable, his forehead creasing. After a long pause he said, "I was concerned, about how I had reacted." He looked away, "I … reacted more strongly than I had expected, and I was afraid that I was losing control over Shukaku again." He closed his eyes, almost looking ashamed, appearing as if he thought that he had failed, and suddenly it made sense. Thinking back on it, he hadn't been avoiding me so much as he had appeared to be wrapped up in thought.

I stared at him, trying to reassemble my brain around the new knowledge, unaware that a few tears had slipped unchecked down my cheeks. His eyes slid back up to meet mine and then widened with alarm as they took in my tears, making me blink, not knowing why he suddenly looked so upset, since I was unaware of the tears in the first place.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, as he grimaced and winced. He tentatively reached out a hand, looking as though he wanted to touch my cheek before pausing and then lowering it again without making contact. He was still obviously unsure about initiating physical contact of any kind, unless of course he was trying to intimidate me.

"For what?" I whispered back, not really sure what he was apologizing for.

He swallowed, "For failing in my mission. I was supposed to keep you safe. And for making you think that I hated you." He winced again and his eyes slid away from mine and to the side.

I abruptly realized that he held himself responsible for what had happened, that he hadn't been able to protect me. I hadn't thought about he might feel. After all, his job had been to swoop in and snatch the guy before he could do any damage, and the fact that I had been taken right under his nose must have upset him a great deal. Everything inside me shifted, shifted from the mindset I had had only a few moments ago, to suddenly feeling entirely different. I had felt as if there was this huge rift between us, a gap that caused so much pain, pain that had crushed my heart and made it difficult for me to even look at him. Now, suddenly, I felt this indescribable tenderness infusing my being, and I abruptly felt closer to him than I had felt in…maybe never.

I stepped closer and reached out to put my hand on his shoulder, to try and comfort him. My hand wavered an inch from making contact but I steeled my nerves, reassuring myself that he was still my friend, that he did not hate me and had admitted himself that he cared about me. I lightly let my hand rest on his shoulder, feeling him tense up impossibly under my palm, his shoulder muscle bunching up hard and tight where my hand was resting. I kept the pressure light, not wanting to freak him out, knowing that he still tended to shy away from physical contact. Well…except for those rare, strange incidents where he had pushed my own personal bubble in the physical contact department. I still wasn't sure what that was all about.

His head stayed lowered, but his eyes flickered up to meet mine, "You have nothing to be sorry for." I said seriously, holding his eye contact calmly, feeling a wave of peace roll through me unlike anything I had felt since this whole mess happened. "We simply underestimated him."

I finally felt okay, confidant that Gaara still cared for me. Though there was still pain and a whole mess of other nonsense and flotsam floating around in the back of my head caused by the trauma of what had happened, the weight that lifted from knowing that Gaara didn't hate me helped me to heal faster than anything else could have.

End Chapter 37

Author's Note:

Hope this helped everyone! Super sweet chapter to refresh the soul. :3

Music

Down by Jason Walker ft. Molly Reed (Ren struggling)

Fly by Ludovico Einaudi (Ren struggling)

Icarus by Ivan Torrent ft. Julie Elven

Rise Above by Two Steps From Hell

Guardians by Two Steps From Hell

Frayed Legacy by Two Steps From Hell (Temari told him and Ren's pissed)

Love and Loss by Two Steps From Hell ("It matters because you are wrong")