Disclaimer: I kidnapped the whole Naruto cast and now have them tied up in my room! (hidden in the closet so the parental units don't walk in and wonder why I have guys tied up in my room) They are all mine and never will they be anyone else's!

Okay, so I lied, Naruto's still not mine . . . but I can dream, right?

-Split-

Chapter Three

The pounding in the back of Gaara's skull brought the redhead teen from the depths of the ocean he had subconsciously been submerged into. Hands held to his head, fingers running circles through his shocking red hair in an attempt to sooth the ache that refused to reside. Opening his eyes as to figure out where he was and why he had such pain blasted through his head, he winced as the harsh rays of morning sunlight pierced his vision. A groan immited from his throat as he tried to feel his legs; satisfied that they were still attached to him, he stretched them out.

After regaining control of his weary body, Gaara took in his surroundings. He was sitting on an old park bench, the splintering wood scratching his bare skin. Surprised that his skin was showing at all, he noted he was not in the clothes he remembered. His baggy jeans and long black sleeved shirt had been exchanged for a zip up sleeveless vest that was too short and black jeans that were too low, and tucked into thick boots. Gaara let a sigh escape as he realized in relief that there was a type of black band decorated in flames that covered his arms from the elbow to the wrist. It was only August, so the weather wasn't bone chilling, but a shiver did run down his spine from the lack of clothing that failed in providing enough warmth.

For a minute, a thought escaped him and his eyes flew like a madman around the bench searching for his camera and mailbag. Upon finding them under the bench, he wrapped his arms around it as a mother would her child.

Looking around, it took only a split second for Gaara to realize that he was in the park, not the city park he visited on a regular basis, but the park by the casino. Curses running through his head, Gaara reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a wad of paper – some were just little pieces of paper that had been torn off of brochures or notebooks with little messages written in a handwriting he had seen a couple times before and the rest was green paper. He counted $200. He bit his lip and wished to return every bill to its rightful owner, but had no idea where to do so.

After separating the bills, he gathered up the pieces of random paper and was ready to shove them into his pocket when one caught his attention. It looked like a page torn off a small calenderer or day planner. Three days were marked off, and the one that followed the line was circled. The eighteenth had been crossed out, along with the nineteenth and twentieth – the twenty-first, on the other hand, was circled and chicken scratch handwriting filled in the small box.

First day of school. Have fun.

One word filled and rebounded off the insides of his head that could explain the whole situation through Gaara's eyes: SHIT!

Swooping his mailbag and camera into his arms, Gaara flung himself off the bench and without pausing to recollect himself, broke out into a sprint. He ran through the park, knowing where he was going for having visited countless numbers of times, towards the exit. He passed a handful of people sleeping on the ground, on benches, or even in trees, but came to a halt as he came within a foot of trampling an old man in the middle of his path.

The man looked up at him with war-worn eyes and struggled to stand up. Gaara had been afraid to touch him and let the old man get to his feet on his own despite the struggle the man was showing. Once on his feet and staring down a nervous redhead, he lifted a white haired eyebrow.

"I-I'm s-sorry sir, c-could you t-tell me what d-day it is?" Gaara felt his face go hot and his eyes scanned the ground.

"Well, good morning to you, too, Sonny. I think it's the twenty-first . . . Monday . . . that's right, Monday the Twenty-First." The old man rubbed his aged beard and smiled at Gaara who stammered out another question.

"D-do you know what time it is?"

"Well, my watch always says 3 O'clock, but judging from the sun, I'd say eight or so."

Gaara bit his lip and mumbled a thank you before dashing off towards the entrance to the park once more. Before he made it to the park entrance, he was breathing hard, but he had no time to stop and take a breath. He exited the park, but continued to follow the main road, eyes scanning for a burst of yellow. Spotting it, he waved down the taxi and told the driver to take him to Konoha High. (unoriginal, yes, but I was at a loss)

Sitting in the back seat, staring at the gum that was sticking to the back of the driver's seat, he had more than enough time to think about how Itachi would mutilate him if he missed the first day of school. Glancing through the seats to see the time, he bit his lip to the point of drawing blood at seeing 8:30; school had started at 8:15.

Reaching into his pocket, he found a wadded piece of paper that he recognized as his school schedule. He frowned, though, at the comments and doodles that scattered the page, the same handwriting as what he found on the calendar page. The other who wrote on it was not that great of an artist, stick people seemed to be his forte. He saw one of the little men with a gun pointed at another with a silly impression of fear and the gun wielder with an immense grin. Above the two characters were the scratchy words "violence in school". Other pictures followed in suit and various quotes that he didn't bother to read. His other being was disturbing.

After reading the first line, he shoved the paper back into his pocket, not wishing to see the doodles again. As he looked out the window, he noted that his school was in sight. The green digital clock stated 8:40.

Pulling out a wad of money, he readied what looked to be $20 and shoved it at the driver before flinging himself out the car. As soon as his feet hit pavement, he made a mad dash to the two large entrance doors of the school. Pushing them open and charging down the halls without a second look to his surroundings, it didn't take long before he ran into someone.

Books and papers flying everywhere, Gaara cringed as he heard his camera hit the tile. Landing hard with his eyes squeezed shut, he didn't notice his knees had reached his chest and his forearms shielded his face. After a few seconds of silence, the redhead opened the eyes he never realized he had closed. Blinking a few times, he lowered his arms to see the person before him.

The blonde boy, clad in shocking orange clothes, seemed to writhe on the ground in agony. He groaned, rubbing his backside, and muttering curses about everything from the cold tiles to it being too early. Situating himself, Gaara untied the mailbag from where it had wrapped itself around his neck, and got to his knees. Without bothering to stand to reach the blonde who laid staring at the ceiling not two feet in front of him, Gaara crawled to his side and looked down at him with questioning green eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. A-are you alright?" Gaara was taken aback as the blank blue orbs flashed and a grin reached across his face. Moving from his laying position, the blonde sat up and stretched, leaving a questioning redhead to just stare.

"Mah, mah, no brain damage from the looks of it. I guess I'll live. How's about you?" The blue orbs shot a look over to Gaara and paused with a skeptical look. Remembering just what his other half dressed him in, a blush spread across his pale cheeks, arms covering his stomach, and he surprised himself when he heard his voice stutter, "I-I'm f-fine."

"Oh, by the way, I'm Naruto." He held out his hand and Gaara hesitated before meeting it with his shaking grip.

"G-Gaara." Whipping his hand back as soon as possible, he felt much better to have his personal space back.

"Oh, dude . . ." Naruto's voice drifted and Gaara followed his eyes to a heap of metal on the ground. "Is that yours?"

The redhead bit his lip as he remembered that he had not slung it around his neck for being in such a hurry. Tears stung his eyes, but he took a deep breath and held it to stop the water from escaping his eyes, yet the urge to let them fall was still there. It was his only camera, he couldn't afford another anytime soon. He was so klutzy, so stupid.

Nodding, he scooped up the metal pieces, careful not to forget any of them. Looking at the jagged edges of the broken pieces, he thought that he might be able to put it back together – he knew it was a false hope.

"Jeez, I'm so sorry for running into you like that . . . Maybe I could help you buy a new one?" Naruto scratched the back of his head and looked down at the redhead with a questioning gaze.

"N-no, it's okay, it's not your fault. It's my fault. I-I wasn't w-watching where I was running. I-I'll fix it. It's my fault. I'm sorry." Gaara lowered his head, "I-I have to get to class. I'm sorry."

Turning on his heal, Gaara started down the hall and felt a small smile tug at his lips as he heard the blonde squeak, "Shit! Me, too!"

As he read the number on the door, he looked over the schedule in his shaking hands, this was it: Geometry, Room 239, Morino Ibiki. Knocking on the door soft enough to make an audible sound without obnoxious banging, he twisted the door handle and allowed himself in. Arms concealing his stomach the best he could while holding the broken camera, he bit his lip and looked around for the teacher. He was taken aback when the only adult in the room was clad in a military uniform.

"Young man, don't just stand there! State your name and purpose." The scars lacing the man's face and the piercing glare made the redhead question which made him wish to shrink away more, the teacher or the smirks and looks of pity that escaped from the rows of seats in the small classroom.

"I-I'm K-Kaze G-Gaara. I-I'm in this c-class. I'm sorry f-for being l-late." The teacher's gaze sent a look begging for an explanation. Careful not to look at the class, attention on his feet, Gaara paused before stuttering, "I-I got l-lost."

"For thirty minutes?" A skeptical look was turned to the boy.

"I'm sorry." Gaara found his feet very exciting.

Mr. Morino raised an eyebrow, "New?" Gaara only nodded instead of surrendering to his stuttering response. It wasn't a lie, it was Gaara's first day as a student of this Konoha High, but he had been in the school before for freshman orientation, even though he was a sophomore, he wanted to know where he was going beforehand. It was also true he got lost, though it wasn't in this school – he was lost at how he got to the park in the first place, though he had a pretty good idea.

Gaara watched as the military man took out a clipboard and pointed to a seat in the back. Without any feeling except the wish to disappear from the stares that surrounded him, he reached his seat, thankful that the eternity of unwanted acknowledgement was over, even if in reality it only took five minutes at the most. Setting his mailbag by his feet and his camera on the small workspace, he wedged himself into the small area between the chair and connected desk.

Seeing the small jagged pieces fall from his hands and land with the touch of a butterfly, he felt hot tears sting his eyes. He bit his lip hard enough to feel blood forming in his mouth and he raised his shaking hands to figure where each piece fit. He knew he couldn't afford another and this had been his only means of photography. Gaara pressed the side button, hoping it was still in working order, and sighed as his disk popped out of the camera. His memory card was intact and he was grateful that at least the pictures he had taken beforehand were safe – or so he hoped. His other had control of him for three days, he knew that it was still up in the air as to whether or not his pictures were safe. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Gaara almost flew out of his chair as he felt something touch his shoulder. He raised his arms to cover his face, but stopped short as he saw a bewildered boy staring at him. Forcing his hands back down into his pockets where they groped at bunched cloth from his pants to keep him from repeating an engrained habit, he tried not to look frightened as he recognized the storm eyed boy in front of him.

Thunderstruck, he managed to stutter out, "N-Neji?"

"Hey, you remember my name!" Neji laughed with a hushed voice. When he didn't hear a reply, his eyes lost their laughter and he nodded towards the camera. "What happened?"

"I-I dropped it."

"Bummer. You going to get a new one?"

"N-no, I can't a-afford it." Before Neji could open his mouth to reply, Gaara was caught off guard by the booming voice of Mr. Morino.

"Gaara, Neji! May I ask what your enthralling conversation was about?" He stood with his hands behind his back and a no-funny-business air about him.

Gaara shrank into his seat and muttered an, "I'm sorry."

Neji, on the other hand, stared him into the eye and without wavering in his voice replied, "I'm sorry, Sir. My fault, I was trying to catch Gaara up on what he had missed."

Gaara had to close his mouth shut with his fist and pray that it didn't fall again. He was amazed at how Neji had managed to lie to the teacher's face, look him in the eye and not turn away while the words rolled off his tongue – without stuttering. Despite this, after they had been dismissed by the military man, Gaara did not turn to talk to Neji again, in fear of getting him in trouble.

He emptied the front pocket of his mail bag, which was filled with random papers that had not been there three days ago, and replaced them with the broken camera pieces. Shoving the papers in his pocket without looking at them, despite the thick black markings and words distributed over various colored paper that no one could have missed. Now was not the time to read them – people were too close.

Pulling out a pencil and twiddling it in his fingers, Gaara eyed the scabs on his knuckles. There was no more red showing, just the brown that created a high contrast on his pale skin. Shoving his pencil between his teeth, he ran his fingers over the scabs and winced, hoping no one had saw him. He remembered the black eye and other scabs he had, and that he might have more from the past three days-he couldn't be sure. Biting his lip, he let thoughts run through his head about how horrible he must look and how others must be viewing him. Scars, scabs, skimpy clothing, dark circles under his eyes and a tattoo on his forehead - this was merely the first day in this new hell and to others, he would be their new demon to be avoided, feared, and jeered at.

:o:

The morning went without any other interesting moments until lunch came where he sat on the furthest table, in the furthest corner from where everyone was gathering to meet with friends, old or new. Not expecting anyone to join him, and not particularly wanting anyone, too, either, he didn't bring out his sketchbook in fear that people would be looking over his shoulder and he didn't take out his camera for fear of bursting out in tears. Instead, he whipped out the pile of papers from his pocket that his other had left with him.

Smoothing them out first, he organized them, the smallest in front, but the biggest catching his attention the most. He hated the puzzles the "Puppet Master", as he called himself, left with him, but as he had also learned, you couldn't ignore them. Pulling out a random piece of paper, he was entrapped in the words as soon as they leapt into his sight.

There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, Death you shall not.

He lost track of time as the words ran circles in his head. He knew there was more to be read, a riddle or two had been seen in the past, quotes, and drawings, all important and had to be read, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the chicken scratch.

He was ready to pounce three feet out of his chair when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bringing his arms to shield his face and mentally cursing the reflex, he looked over to see who it was that invaded his personal space. He took a note of that he needed to form a bubble of some sorts here – people didn't understand personal space in the very least.

The redhead smirked as he looked at her with the eyes of a frightened animal. "Name's Tayuya."

"G-Gaara."

"I was wondering if you wanted to come up to the roof with me and a couple of my friends. It'll be a blast – much better than this fucking cafeteria." Chains dangled off her clothes and hit the bench with a small clink.

"Tayuya, don't talk like that, it's not very lady-like." The large man behind her commented – Gaara sent a raised eyebrow to the Mohawk.

"Shut the fuck up, Jiroubou! I'll talk however I fucking feel like talking." She shot a glare in his direction and he slumped his shoulders in defeat. Turning back to the redhead who stared like a deer caught in headlights, she smirked and edged him on, "So come on, what do you say?"

Gaara shoved the papers into his pocket hoping they hadn't seen them and inched away from them, worrying that if he scooted too far away that he'd fall off the bench that was connected to the table. "N-no, I-I can't. I'm sorry."

She raised an eyebrow, "Why not?"

Gaara hung his head in shame, "I-I'm a-afraid of h-heights. I'm sorry."

"Aw, is that all?" Tayuya burst out into a grin, "I promise not to let you fall!" She grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the table – wincing from the contact and reaching back for his bag, he bit his lip stuttering whispering "No"s.

"Jiroubou! Get his fucking bag, come on, we're missing lunch!"

Gaara tried to pull out of his grasp, but her fingers laced themselves into a knot around his wrist and he couldn't free himself. Looking at Jiroubou with pleading eyes, he watched him shake his head. As they came near the door, the redhead felt his pulse rise and his breathing become shallow. He tried to hang onto the handrail to stop her as they rose up the stairs, but his fingers had become jelly and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

As the door burst open at the top of the stairwell, he only remembered seeing the tops of surrounding buildings, the blue sky stretched before him, and a small group of people welcoming them before his world went black and another's grew color.

:o:

The wind in his hair, the blue sky covering him like a blanket and the thrill of the height brought the redhead forward. Taking in his surroundings with deep breaths and closing his eyes for the full effect, he almost missed the girl's voice beside him.

"See? It's not so shitty." The red haired girl's hands were in her pockets he realized she had let him go when she saw he wouldn't run away. She motioned for him to come sit with her and her three friends, but he didn't move.

"You're right, it's not shitty. It's amazing."

"Amazing?" She sent a skeptical look his way. "I thought you were afraid of heights."

"Afraid of heights? I could never be afraid of heights! I love it up here."

"Uh, right. Hey, what the hell happened to your stuttering? The height knock it out of you?" She snickered, but the boy didn't even respond to her, instead he continued on.

"Being up here is so thrilling. The idea of attempted flight." He walked to the edge of the building, raising himself to the side railing. His arms were spread in the imitation of wings and his smile reached his eyes, even though they looked as though tears could be flowing from them. "The failure of flight and the fall."

The small group stared up at him with worried looks and this time it was Jiroubou who said something, "Hey, Gaara, how about you get down from there – we don't want you to fall."

The redhead spun on his toe as the others visibly winced praying for him to come down from the thick cement railing. What sounded like a giggle came from him, "Why don't you want me to fall? It'd be amazing! The wind passing you as you came closer and closer to the hell below – but for a few seconds the wind would whip through your hair and you'd have the feeling of flight! The shear thrill is enough to make you beg for more!"

"Gaara, come the fuck down." Tayuya was now backing up Jiroubou, inching closer to the dancing redhead.

Another giggle was sounded, "I'm not Gaara! Gaara would never want to feel the joy of flight!"

They paused before sending in a question, "Who the fuck are you, then?"

"Tema-" But before he could finish, the door was slammed open and an angry stormy eyed boy appeared.

:o:

dum, dum dum! That's it for now! Whooooo that was a looooong chapter, and within a week, too! I'm going to try to update once a week with longer chapters like this, too – no guarantees, though. This one's coming out earlier than it originally was intended, though. I'm outta town and wasn't going to have any internet access, but if I sit on the far side of my porch (with an extension cord for my laptop batteries), I get a low internet signal from my neighbors! So thank my neighbors who I've never really met, but have given me the joy of net surfing once again!

I wasn't going to turn this into a highschool fic, but after too much reading other fanfiction, we see what happens . . . first it was a highschool fic, then it wasn't, and then around the beginning of this chapter, it transformed into one . . .

Blagh, I was going to reply to some reviewers, but then I realized how much I suck at it . . . so sorry everyone! If you want a reply, though, email me at stainedglass393 . . . but don't take that the wrong way! I love you all oh so very much:3 Please review . . . the more reviews the higher the chances of Weekly updates with long chapters:D

Until Next Time . . .