a/n: sorry for delay. Expect more delay. I am in the process of moving.

--Kettricken

Chapter 3

Gaara of the Desert. Gaara of the Desert.

Sakura felt the blood rushing in her ears, blanketing the noise of the campfire like sand. The world gone up in sand. She was against the tree again, a great weight crushing all the bones in her body. She could feel the bark grinding into the backs of her arms, her legs sweating— Sasuke, save—Naruto, save--

"Sakura!"

She turned, and nearly bumped her head into Ino's; her friend's pale face was inches from hers, and Chouji was just behind her, munching on chips.

"You really zoned out, there," Ino said, putting a hand on her arm. "Gaara still gets to you that much?"

Sakura closed her eyes. "I'm all right," she said; resolving that, when she opened them again, it would be with the steely glare she was learning from Tsunade. Attitude was all; she needed to be able to summon hers even when it wasn't crux time. She would look at Gaara.

"Do you want me to get you some hot tea?" Ino was asking. Sakura shook her head; then looked across the campfire. Gaara stood flanked by his siblings, inscrutable as ever, beside the treeon the other side of the clearing. Asuma and Kurenai seemed to be watching him surreptitiously, but Rock Lee was practically fawning at him like a puppy dog, providing 90 of the conversation to Gaara's 10. Kiba and Kankurou were grinning fiendishly at one another, but the dynamic was clear, there, too, Sakura noticed: she was no expert in canine behavior, but Kiba didn't need to roll over and show his belly to acknowledge Kankurou's dominance. Temari, for her part, stood over Gaara, as if to protect him.

"It's like we forgot," Sakura whispered. "They tried to kill us, and it's like we forgot all about it." Then thought: even if there is no real danger, I was terrified, and there was no-one to protect me. Lee didn't stay to protect me.

"Don't worry, Sakura—look, Hinata's scared too," Chouji offered.

Sakura raised an eyebrow. Being frightened by the same things that scared Hinata wasn't a big ego boost. At that rate, she'd be jumping at largeish mosquitos.

Ino handed her tea, and Sakura took it, gratefully. "Asuma says they're going to share our camp for the night," Ino said. "Just what I always wanted. Two freaks and a skank."

"I think she's pretty," Chouji offered, glancing at Temari.

"Forget it," Ino glared at him. "You're not her type."

"I know, I—"

"But they're technically our allies, I guess," Ino sighed dramatically, "what do you call someone who saves your ass right after kicking it? I don't know... there's ninja politics for you, right?" she bitterly sipped her own tea. "Bunch of bullies, anyway... I'd like to see them fail, after what they did to Sakura."

Sakura turned in surprise, to see Chouji nodding along, as if preparing to roll over Gaara at Ino's word. The two of them hadn't seen what she'd seen—even more, what she hadn't—there was no reason for them to instinctively take the proper precautions, the way she did. The way her body reacted like a frightened small animal when he was close."That's all right ," she said hastily. "If he makes me uncomfortable, it's my concern. I can just... keep my distance." Fight or flight? She had thought she had answered that question. A kunoichi fights.

"Sure, Sakura," Chouji mumbled through a mouthful of chips. "If that's what you want. They're creepy, anyway."

Ino scowled. "Ch... I just want to stand up for my friend, you know."

Sakura leaned back. The tea was surprisingly warming; Lee might have abandoned her, but Ino and Chouji, her teammates, had fallen in around her. There was comfort in it. With Sasuke and Naruto, it was always the two of them, and Sakura as the afterthought. Here, in the team where she really was the afterthought, the patched-in replacement member, she felt more a part than she ever had with the others. Maybe because they were all as second-string as she was, she thought ruefully.

Through the campfire, Gaara's ringed eye caught hers; then looked away. Never blinking.

oooooOOOOOOOOOOOOooooo

Through the campfire, Gaara's eye catches the pink-haired girl's. Quickly, he turns it away again; It is rumbling inside him, purring a lullabye composed for escaped prey. He is stronger than Shukaku now. Every night when he goes to sleep, he sets a part of himself on guard to remind it; but that is no reason to give it an opening, an emotion. A weakness. Gaara sleeps with one eye open now. But Gaara sleeps.

Lee is telling him about the efforts to rebuild the stadium in Konoha. Gaara watches him and listens; mostly, though, he is trying to figure out what it would feel like to have one's limbs crushed. He has had no frame of reference; there is no peer for him. He is not human the way the others are. Not even Naruto, although Naruto woke him up. Now he continually reminds himself that others are human, in unpleasant and excruciating ways. It is the syllogism that keeps Shukaku quiet: humans are weaker than Gaara, but protecting one another, stronger. He is weaker than Shukaku, but by protecting humans—the demon rumbles within. Lee is a protected one, now. The feeling is so strong, so relieving, that it is almost nauseating. Yes. Gaara decides; he will find the girl and tell her that she is protected. Then he will gain a whole month of nights. The more he protects, the more he is free to be Gaara. Naruto was lucky to understand this from the start.

Temari, thinking he isn't listening, says to Kankurou: this chuunin exam may be hard for him. What if It wakes up again?

(Shukaku rolls inside him.)

Kankurou stretches his lips—the closest he ever comes to a smile. He says: if it does, we protect him. Let's just get through this as quickly as we can.

Gaara sometimes wonders if his heart is growing. There is a pain in his chest. Once, he might have known what to call it. It all got confused, for a while. He will wrap these thoughts through the quiet lulls in conversation and wear at them in his mind, distill them to clear truths until they shine through his black-rimmed eyes.

oooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo

Three officials from the Hidden Mist were waiting for them by the dock that morning. The woman was young, blindfolded, lips blue as a corpse; the taller man broad shouldered, with a heaving neck. The smallest man's eyes were pupilless, like a Hyuuga's, but more milky blue, as an old dog's might be after it has gone blind. This man stepped forward, surveying them; looked down at a paper in his hand.

Sakura fidgeted in the line; the morning was cold and foggy. Ino was beside her, but the far side of Chouji was looking a little fuzzy. She wondered if Hidden Mist was always so literalistic; or, just maybe, if she was stewing in a bunch of vaporized Water Bunshin...

Sakura attempted to breathe without breathing any of the mist.

"What is this, four—" the dog-blind man ticked off his list—"Yes, four previous entrants from Konoha? And not a single new entry? ...and what is this, a two-woman team?" The corner of his lip twitched. Sakura could swear he was staring at her, although it was impossible to be sure; she averted her eye. "Just what have you been up to, Konoha?"

"Just a little scuffle with some Sands," Asuma drawled. For the first time, Sakura was aware of his solid presence behind her team; his hand hovering over her shoulder. She straightened her gaze. "Take our names and let us in, right?"

The official looked away without responding. "And the infamous Three from Sand," he said, "...again." He fixed his stare on them, clearly expecting a response; none was forthcoming. After a few minutes of Gaara's blank expression, the official turned away, shrugging. "I'll be the examiner for the first test," he said. "All our local entrants are waiting on the island. You're late. Welcome to the Bloody Mist."