It was night when they finally reached the maze-like canyons that led to the village of the sand. The towering stone canyon walls were dark, empty and cold, like everything and everyone else, Temari thought. Wind whistled through the empty paths, swirling sand into their faces mockingly.
Kankouro's eyes were half open and he glared jealously at Gaara who had gone unconscious shortly after meeting with the sound shinobi. For over four days, that was how it had been. Gaara constantly passed out or drifted off into sleep, and constantly woke back up again. The demon was too weak to have any power over him, Temari and Kankouro had reasoned. They wondered silently if Gaara kept waking up because his mind and body had forgotten how to sleep, and how to heal.
A single guard watched from the shadows, not asking any questions. From the lack of security, it was easy to tell that something was wrong in the village. No words passed, only mutual suspicion and fear.
Right, left. Temari stumbled along groggily. Kankouro was practically sleepwalking. Gaara was fast asleep, his breathing barely audible even in the overwhelming silence. Deep down, Temari wondered what was happening in the deep abyss of his mind.
Inside Gaara's mind, Shukaku dwelt in the darkness. But this demon wasn't behind unbreakable bars, this demon stalked in the shadows, limping and breathing heavily in pain, angry as hellfire. Gaara sat alone, in the middle of a small, dim patch of light with his arms around his knees protectively against the one thing the sand couldn't protect him from.
Give me blood.
Let me make us strong.
"It seems that lately you've been saying 'us' a whole lot." Gaara said dryly.
YOU NEED ME!
"He doesn't need you. He defeated you."
QUIET!
"I can defeat you too."
QUIET! The demon charged angrily, a dark mass of rage.
Gaara violently woke, shaking and breathing hard. The sudden movement just about gave Temari and Kankouro a heart attack and made them wide-awake.
Silence, only Gaara's breathing as it slowly relaxed and slowed.
Temari felt like she should say something comforting like, "Don't worry Gaara, we're almost home."
Yeah, some home.
It was a prison.
No really, it was a prison. It was carved into the cliffs on the outskirts of town to hold desert bandits, prisoners of war, and other dangerous criminals. It was the only place in the city that could "hold" Gaara when Shukaku broke out.
Years ago the prison had been cleaned out and disguised as a home. Bars had been replaced with doors and torture chambers had become bedrooms and a kitchen.
It still felt like a prison, and they all hated it.
Some people get homesick when they come home; others get homesick when they come home.
They would have gladly turned around and never returned, if they had somewhere, anywhere, to go.
A.N. Thank you guys so much for reviewing! You all rock! Inspired by your reviews I've decided to use this story to fill the gap between the approximate 3-week gap between the chuunin exam until the sand shinobi come save team-shikamaru… These chapters are oddly short and I don't want them to become angsty drabble, so expect some blood, guts and gore in the next chapter.
Lets just say the road back to the light isn't always smooth, or filled with puppies and snowcones.
Please correct me on any technical errors with names and phrases!
