The Truth About Fire and Ashes

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

She looked up at him, her hands brushing her face in futile attempt to cover the inner storm in her mind and the residue it left behind. Sakura stood stiffly, not aware that Gaara's hard, smokey jade eyes depicted trembling of the hands she had stuck stubbornly at her sides.
Words would not be wasted on her. The greeting, in his mind, was fine. Any kind of polite greeting, with him, was strange anyway.
Gaara stepped to the side of his threshold, making an opening for her to pass through. Her eyes, still wide, searched his for some sort of reaction.

Get inside. He interrupted, though softly. The sand, as if swaying by a hypnotic rhythm, hissed as it twirled around him like a cobra being lured out of it's basket. Sakura flinched, but when noticing that it didn't attack her, looked back at the Sand-nin. He waited patiently, his arms now crossed over his chest.
She adjusted the strap of her backpack, and said,

Sakura walked past him, brushing his clothing as she went. She shivered; not because he was cold, but because of the slightest warmth she found there.
Taking in her surroundings as she slipped her sandals off, she made note of the kitchen; a rickety table set in the center, joined by a counter that stretched along a wall and burrowed into a corner. Few cabinets were boarded loosely above them, and a sink gleamed with confidence as a window chose to overlook it.
To the left was a refrigerator that hummed gently, the tile below it, a rusty color, showing off it's white. To the left of that, a large window. The room was small, but a hallway was set straight in front of her, where the wall ended, the gap was made, and the counter started. Behind her was the door she just stepped through, and a few stairs that had patches of carpet missing.
Sand also fancied itself in heaps around, and if one stared long enough, they'd ponder if it moved, like a beast settling into sleep.
Gaara shut the door, avoiding her gaze and not meeting it once, before trekking down the dim hallway. When he paused at a door frame for more than a moment, Sakura knew she should follow. So she did.
Trying to ignore the many marks and holes on the walls, she stood a little behind Gaara, who ran his hand over the door frame. It was then she noticed his gourd was missing. That would explain some things...
Several seconds passed, (she was tired of counting) when she asked,
Is this where I'm sleeping?
He turned and looked at her with eyes that were clear and cloudy at the same time, and glared. It was as if she had just asked him to bomb his village.
It's missing a door. He frowned, his arms crossing again.

He gave her that look again. The room.
She was still shaking, even after he passed her and opened a door across from hers, and shutting it with a quiet click. She decided, evenly, that he had the chance to kill her several times, making it apparent that he would not. Also, that she was tired, and every muscle in her body was screaming. Looking into her new quarters, she found it was clean enough, and small; with enough room for a bed and an old dresser to the side.
Forgoing a shower and a change of clothes, she collapsed on the bed, despite it being dusk and still light out. Squinting, Sakura looked up at the wall by her feet, to find a little, uneven square that look as if someone cut it only days before.
But her eyes widened as they looked down, and in the beginnings of darkness, saw some sand slither and halt on her floor.

Sakura waited at the counter, setting herself on a stool and letting her face slump into her loosely crossed arms.
He was gone.
The sand, however, wasn't.
She didn't know what to think, except that she was hungry, and she didn't know whether or not she should cook something. She also missed her own home, her own life.
But maybe...she didn't know what her own life was anymore.
She had thought a large part of it was Sasuke. And he was. It was just so empty when she wasn't thinking of him, of Naruto, of Kakashi. So empty, in fact, that she wondered what kind of life would it be like, to live there, though her mind was dead. Was that really all she had to hold onto? Was a single person, who left her?
Was that...all she was really worth?
What has she been doing up until this time? Being...worthless...? Maybe that's why...
Maybe it was her fault...
The tears had already begun to form in her eyes, as her shoulders shuddered with some anger instead of pure sorrow.
Is this all she has, crying? Crying like the worthless self she really was?
Didn't...didn't anyone need her back there?
Didn't anyone want to stop her from leaving, even if only temporarily?
Nobody needed her...?
Even Naruto...she thought...she didn't know what she thought anymore.
And she was so sick of not knowing anything like a stupid, stupid, worthless baby who sat and cried and
and
and
thought Sasuke was still coming back.
When he wasn't.
Which made her hands clench into fists that had used to be used for healing.
A cool voice said, and she jerked her head up, to find Gaara standing in the doorway, a solemn look on his features. It was so hard to read him. She suddenly felt exposed, and embarrassed for a reason she couldn't place. Looking away, she asked,

Came his quip, unfeeling as he pulled from behind him a paper bag. He walked up to the table, and set the package down. Getting tossed a puzzled look, he explained in the utmost detail,
Before retreating back outside.
Sakura didn't protest, eyeing the bag carefully as her hand reached out timidly.

It wasn't as if he cared about her personally. It was just that, seeing her like that, was all too familiar. Logically, if she was going to remind him of things he was trying to forget, she would be in danger if he should ever get angry in any instance.
His mission was to keep her out of it.
He sat on the roof above Sakura's head, letting the morning freshness caress his face. Even so, that girl was weak and pathetic. She would die soon enough.
The thought was weirdly unsettling, as he shifted his position. He wasn't around the opposite sex often, and she intrigued him, how she could cry in front of him even though she was afraid of him. It was stupid, to open like that to your enemies.
Whether all females were like that or not, Gaara didn't know. He didn't particularly care at the moment. Or ever.
But it seemed, he reasoned, that they weren't enemies right now.
And that she was going through a lot of pain.
Pain, that brought up unnecessary memories. Memories that shouldn't have been.
So he stayed on his rooftop, his eyes going distant with a numbness he was accustomed too.

Sakura dumped out the rest of the food from the bag, the items spilling across the counter. Some bread, a carton of eggs, and a container of fruit. She walked over to the fridge, and looked inside to find it mostly empty, save for the water, milk, and ham that was untouched. In the cabinets, silverware, plates, minimal flour, sugar, and more bread, all except the latter untouched.
Frowning deeper, her eyes managed to blink without drawing on more moisture.

It was noon by the time Gaara reentered his abode, to find the pink-haired one taking something out of the metal thing in the counter, and a fresh aroma in the air.
She said, cautiously, turning around upright. There, in her hands, was something he had never seen before. It's the closest version to french toast I could make... She blinked twice at him, and he found himself averting his gaze. I-It's food.
He stood there, not moving, as if this alone would make everything freeze. Sakura found this a bit frightening, for he took this pose before, but set her creation of toast littered with a kind of strawberry syrup on the table. Glancing back at him once, she walked into her room, and sat down. And waited.
Creeping around the corner minutes later, she sidled along the wall until she was sure he could sense her, and stood at the edge of the kitchen.
He was still standing there, in the exact same position, staring at the offering almost suspiciously. Sakura frowned.
It's...it's not that bad, is it? She would try to converse with him. He then looked at her with an unchanging stare, one that made a person's breath hitch in their throat.
Or atleast hers.
Then the sand that coiled around him lashed out and picked the pan up like a pair of hands, and brought it too him, where as he grasped it hesitantly before walking back out the door and out into the world.

She decided his reaction could've been worse. Atleast he took it. That look...it seemed so...
It was hard for her to place it, but for that one second, he had opened a part of himself to her. It was almost as if he had rewinded to the past and had become a child in that one split droplet of time.
Running a hand through her hair, and deciding accurately that she was exhausted and needed serenity, Sakura promptly took a shower. Even if she was mentally tired, her senses were always up and guarded for anything that may harm her. After all, Gaara had to be the person she was most afraid of. Setting aside Orochimaru, of course.
Fifteen minutes later, a towel draped across her shoulders, her hair wet and messy from attempted to be towel-dried.
As she stood in the hallway, looking at the battered kitchen, the girl mused over how rough and cold it looked.
But then, two windows allowed light to flood in. One facing the east, one facing the west.
Perhaps there was hope after all.
Shifting her weight to one hip, she knew how little control she had over everything. And how much of a burden she was to everyone she knew.
But there was a person she didn't know. There was a different place that she had to call home for awhile. She could control the latter by cleaning up, by making this place look as beautiful as she wished she was.
Sakura choose to concentrate, almost entirely, on the latter.

I should start out with the kitchen, I think... She muttered to herself, overlooking the hefty task ahead of her. Still, it would give her something to do, save being in mortal fear of her roommate. But, Sakura was pretty sure there was nothing here to help her, so a trip to a store was necessary. And that meant...

Gaara had just finished eating the delicacy when Sakura crouched at the edge of his roof, her pupils still going small at the sight of him. Atleast the girl was trying.
...You liked it? She asked, and he frowned in response. Yeah, anyway, I need some cleaning supplies, some paint, and some carpet. Do you know...where I could get it?
You're not going anywhere.

In the mission description, it said to keep you confined within this area, His charcoal rimmed eyes closed as he recited the document, his voice as flat as ever, the items you want are not within this area, therefore, you are not leaving. When he opened his eyes, she radiated what he perceived as immature anger, trying to restrain herself.
But...but I'm trying to help you.
Gaara's forehead wrinkled as his frown deepened,
She looked desperate, crushed, almost.
He repeated, and looked down at his empty dish. Sakura's head tilted to one side, her eye brows furrowing.
I need to do something...please... She crawled toward him, her eyes becoming softer. His own eyes widened as she reached out to touch him, and in series of flashes running through his mind, he blinked and sand flew and-
Sakura was knocked unconscious, sprawled across the roof tiles.
His hand slipped over his face, sure he didn't draw any blood. He was long to used to smell.
She wasn't the only one who trembled in the presence of another. He had tried to control these out bursts as well as he could over the past year, but for an obvious reason, no one could touch him without him losing that precious self control.
Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, and re opening them, he found the empty dish.
He would be hungry in a little while.

When Sakura came to with a slight headache, in the kitchen, she found a ton of the items she had requested beside her. Along with a paper bag.
Sitting up, dazed, and not sure of what happened, she stood and put the heavy paper bag on the table. Looking inside, she found a metal pot, a box of raw noodles, and a various assortment of vegetables. Not able to hide her slight smile, she turned up the oven and filled the pot up with water. Glancing around, Sakura noted Gaara was not around. It was evening.

Gaara was sitting outside, his knees drawn up into his chest, when the girl crouched at the edge of the roof again, this time a bowl of ramen noodles with soup in her hand. He watched her closely as she set it down and quickly left, and it wasn't until a few minutes later he ate contentedly.
Sakura was a strange person.

Inside, Sakura sneezed as she ate her half alone, planning to start on fixing up in the kitchen the next morning. Staring at the bundle of buckets of paint, tools, carpet sheets, cleaning products, wood, and newspaper, the Konoha female thought about Gaara...
And windows.

A/N: Each new chapter will atleast have more diologue and drama than the next, so expect better next chapter. I just had to start things slow, and I hope I didn't go to OOC with any of them, especially Sakura. I wanted Gaara to change a bit and have a bit of a personality, but enough, thank you so much for taking your time to read and (hopefully) review my fic. Without you guys I'd be lost and miserable when I write.