No POV

Gaara sat in his room, reading the same piece of paperwork for the tenth time that day. It was getting late, nearly midnight, but he couldn't focus. At this point he knew there was no use continuing. He was distracted still. He'd spoken to Zena out of rage earlier. He was jealous and lonely and hurt. He never meant to lash out like he did. And when it was done, he wanted her to hate him.

So he made that cruel joke. He hated himself for what he'd done. He thought that when he asked her to strip she'd slap him. That when he told her to touch him she'd leave. She didn't and he knew why. It was wrong of him to take out his frustration like that and he regretted it. But she needed to see what her job was doing to him. He wanted her to break off the promise with Utakata and be only his.

Gaara hoped that Zena would return the next day and beg to take him back. He'd take her in a heartbeat. He loved her. So until she came he wouldn't be getting much sleep done.

But, the next morning came and Zena didn't come. He waited until noon for her, never leaving his room. He even skipped work. Did she decide she too was tired of it all? Gaara finally was pulled out of his room by hunger. Opening the fridge he was disappointed by it's contents. His sister was in the next room, watching the news

"Would you like me to go shopping Temari?" He called. He grabbed a carton of milk, the only thing left in the fridge.

She wasn't responding. Gaara walked towards the living room.

"-the Accident at Devils Pier has the bikini brand under fire New footage has been released from the popular brand. We are told to warn viewers that the footage may be disturbing."

Gaara sighed. Sounded like the regular news. All they talked about was death, war, and crimes.

Then Gaara heard a scream come from the TV, and one following it from his sister. He recognized that scream. His blood turned cold.

"-THAT'S MY SON! THAT'S MY SON!"

He knew that voice. Had heard nearly every tone of it. Never like that though. He stumbled into the living room, dropping the milk when he saw the TV. Temari was collapsed in front of it. All Gaara saw was Zena. Utakata had his arms around her, holding her back. Her eyes were frantic and she was trying to tear away from him. She looked feral. And that terrified Gaara. What could do that to her? What did she see that she needed to get to so bad?

Gaara knew.

The clip ended and a solemn reporter returned on camera. "Sources say that three year old Zakari was in the care of his older sister and rising model Zena Ukitake when the incident happened. The coast guard is currently doing all they can to find and return his body to-"

Gaara didn't hear anything more. He backed up into the wall and slid down it, hand over his mouth. For the first time since he was five, Gaara cried.

Utakata made sure Zena had a private room at the hospital. The police brought her there and though some questioning would take place later, now was not the time. At first they put her under a sedative. Utakata stayed with her. For a week she stayed there, unmoving. Visitors continued to come but she refused to see anyone. Not Tobirama or Itachi or Naruto. Even Gaara was turned away by nurses. Utakata never left her side.

When a week and a half had passed the nurses and therapists decided it would be best for her to leave the hospital. Utakata wheeled her out because like everything else, she had lost the desire to walk. He took her back to her apartment.

For a day Zena remained as she had for the past week. She sat on the couch and didn't move. Didn't talk. Didn't eat. No emotions came from her. A body without a soul despite Utakata's gentle coaxing. He sat beside her at last and looked around the apartment. A small dog puppet lay on the floor. Trying to help he picked it up to put it away. That was when Zena stirred.

She stretched her hand out for the puppet which Utakata handed over, eager to see signs of life. She flipped it in her hand and held it close to her heart. "No more." She whispered.

"Zena?" Utakata got on his knees in front of her, looking up with concern.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window. "I... I can't stay here. This apartment... This town..."

He understood. All of the memories would now be to painful. How could she remain in the house she and Zakari had played in? He hugged her. "You don't have to."

Utakata's shoulder was wet with her tears. "Take me away." She begged

"We'll start over." He promised. "Somewhere else. You'll never have to come back here. Never again."

Zena clutched the puppet, Zakari's first puppet, against Utakata's back. She knew this wound would never heal but it would never close if she remained in that apartment. Not with the memories surrounding her. She could still hear Zakari's laughter. She could feel his hands winding through her hair. Sometimes the only option left was to run away.

So run away she did.

Sequel is now up :) Called: The Tragedy of Growing up