Blood Breakdown

Part 2

By Juno42

Temari lay awake in her room, tracing the pattern of the hypodermic seal in her hand, trying to think.

It was a good night for it. Kankuro was out on a mission, and Gaara had been exceedingly quiet so far. Shikamaru's reply had been quicker than she had had expected, which impressed her. She reread the letter again:

:Temari,

I got your message. I gave it some thought and have a few ideas of what it could be. A few questions for you. One; has Gaara ever gotten sick like this before? Two; Does he have any allergies? Three; could he recently have been exposed, or being exposed, to any unusual drug or toxin?

To be completely sure, the best thing would be to get a blood sample. If you haven't seen them before, these are hypodermic seals. Just press one to his skin for about ten to twelve seconds. One should be enough, but get more if you can. They should be harmless enough to get past his sand. Also, do report any sudden changes in his condition, however small. I suspect some kind of toxic shock, so any slight change may be a huge indicator of what's going on.

Take care and good luck,

Shikamaru:

She was sure glad that Kankuro was away when the letter came. That "take care" line caused her face to redden irritatingly, quite against her will. Other than that, the letter gave her a bit of hope. Someone, at least, was getting somewhere with this.

She wasn't too thrilled about trying out the seals, though. She had heard of them, but the Sand usually took the direction of low-cost expediency, so they never were used very much, except in cases of severe hemophilia. She wasn't sure if they were non-threatening enough to use of Gaara. But she also knew that if anyone in the world could use them on him, it was herself or Kankuro.

She'd just have to decide how to approach him tomorrow, she decided, and turned out the light.

She awoke less than an hour later. Completely wide awake, heart pounding, with the sense that something was horribly, horribly wrong and in danger of getting infinitely worse.

A feeling like that in this family usually involved at least one person for sure. She tossed the blanket aside and hurried down the hall to Gaara's room. Maybe he had snuck out again? Maybe he had fallen asleep and Shukaku had taken over.

The clenching panic in her gut cut through all her usual protocols, and she yanked Gaara's door open, where she had to pause and let her eyes adjust.

She could make out Gaara's form on the other side of the room, on the futon that was kept there if he needed to lie down for a while. He was lying down now, in a loose fitting shirt and pants, but was more than halfway off of the bed and onto the floor, at a nearly perpendicular angle to it, his head pointed towards the door, his legs on the mattress. He lay very still.

Temari stepped closer. Moonlight from the window made his skin icy blue. It made the darkness around his eyes stand out far too sharply. He didn't seem to breath.

Just then the smell hit her. It was faint, but present. And ominous. Something sharp, and slightly metallic, a bit like blood, but worse too because it wasn't even organic. It was an industrial, chemical kind of scent. Her eyes darted around for a possible source for the odor, and noticed that his left arm was stretched out, and a grey jug stood just next to his hand. She knew that jug, it was kept under the kitchen sink…

She didn't panic. She had no time for that, what with snatching up her brother, dragging him down the hall to the bathroom, holding him over the toilet and jamming her fingers down his throat until he heaved everything from his stomach. Then, still holding him up with one arm, reaching up and rummaging through the medicine cabinet until she found the small brown bottle of mission detoxifying potion, tipping his head back and pouring the whole thing down his gullet. Gaara coughed and sputtered, but the potion prevented him from vomiting it back up while it worked on him.

With her adrenalin receding, Temari took the drag down the hall to her room at a slightly more leisurely pace, got Gaara into her own bed, where he lay panting and shaking. Her hands shook as well, as she pulled the blankets over him, when his voice, raspy and faint, stopped her cold.

"I don't know if you're there. Maybe you're not real. I can tell you."

"Gaara," she started, "save your strength, you-"

"Shut up," he said, "You wanted the karma, you got it."

Temari shut up. Gaara's eyes, just barely open, stared up at the ceiling.

"It won't go away," Gaara said. "It was always there. That pain, in my chest." One trembling arm dragged itself up and his hand clenched the fabric of his shirt, over his heart. "It wasn't always so bad. It even went away sometimes, when I was with Uncle Yashamaru. Then that night…" He trailed off.

Temari blinked. The last time anyone spoke about their mother's brother was six years ago, just after his was killed. She knew that he had been in charge of Gaara at the time. She and Kankuro had never been told what happened, even though she had suspected that Gaara had something to do with his death. Whenever he was mentioned around Gaara, his eyes would smolder with anger, and people quickly learned to leave the subject alone.

"I didn't know it was him," Gaara continued. "He attacked me. I let the sand attack back. I took off the mask. It was Yashamaru. He was still alive. He told me. He told me about Mother, and Father, and the Demon, and my name. He told me the truth. Then he died. That's when this happened." The hand at his shirt slid up and brushed the symbol tattooed in blood on his forehead. "When this happened, the pain went away."

Gaara paused and swallowed a couple of time. Temari was barely breathing.

"The pain came back later," he continued. "Worse than ever. Then the next assassin came. I let the sand have him, and the pain went away. Then more came, and I killed them, and the pain would go away, each time. Nothing would hurt, at all." Feeling came into his voice for the first time. The feeling was fear. "But the pain started to come back sooner, and stronger. And I couldn't take it. I began wanting the assassins to come. I would wait for them. After a while I stopped waiting. As long as the sand had blood, the pain wouldn't come back."

Gaara's eyes closed all the way. When he spoke, his voice was stone dead again. Temari held her breath.

"But it doesn't work, not very well. Not any more. There's just not enough blood." He was starting to drift off. "The pain's always there. Death just doesn't help anymore." He sighed sleepily. "But it's all I know to do."

Temari sat there by the bed for a long time without moving. Her legs trembled when she got up, and her hands trembled when she made tea.

Temari dozed off in her desk chair in the very early hours of the morning, but was awaked by a groan from the bed. She rubbed at her eyes to try to get some moisture back into them, and took the tea mug off the hotplate. She managed to fix the medicinal tea before she had her panic attack last night. First lesson in field poison treatment, she recalled from the academy. She took the mug over to the bed. Gaara was grimacing and squinting, trying to bring the world into some sort of focus. Not succeeding, by the crease in his brow.

"Gaara?" she said softly. "It's Temari."

Gaara squinted at her until he recognized her, shut his eyes again. "Gneh," he said.

"I need you to drink this," she pressed.

Closed his eyes and snorted. "Go 'way."

She expected this to be difficult. "Not 'till you drink this."

He tried a glare through bloodshot eyes. "Do you want me to kill you?" he rasped.

Temari gulped, suddenly remembering whom she was talking to. "No," she said, voice trembling. "Do you?"

"No…"

Temari blinked. She hadn't really intended to ask that, it had just popped out in nervousness. And she certainly wouldn't have expected him to answer, especially not with that answer.

"No…" he said again, then turned his head way from her. "Go away," he said again.

"I'll go if you drink this, okay?"

Gaara squinted at her again out of the corner of his eye, then at the mug in her hand, then at her again, sighed into the pillow and turned his head in submission. Temari helped him lift his head enough that he could sip at the tea, slowly. When it was gone, she set him back down and fussed with the blanket until she heard him whisper very softly, "Damn."

"Eh?" she said, and looked him in the face again. And was stunned to see tears leaking from his closed eyes.

He turned from her again and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "Damn," he said again, almost plaintively. "Why did you do that?" He suddenly rolled away from her and wailed softly into the pillow. "It could have been over! I'll never have the guts again now! How could you do that?"

He broke down in harsh muffled sobs.

On impulse, Temari reached for him, pulled her hand back for a second, decided to hell with it, and put her hand gently on his shoulder. Once she had done that she pretty much ran out of ideas, didn't know what to do next, if there was anything she could do. She looked absently around her and spotted the hypo-seals, still on her bedside table.

Temari bit her lip. Just go for it, she thought. With her free hand, she picked up two of them, and with very careful fumbling managed to get them ready in her palm. They were each about half the size of a playing card, so they fit well enough.

She then slid her other hand from his shoulder up to base of his neck, where the loose shirt he wore rode down enough to uncover his back, down to upper shoulder-blade level. She carefully switched hands and gently pressed the seals to the exposed skin. She looked quickly around, half expecting to see a swarm of sand surging at her. But there was none, and Gaara seemed not have noticed her at all.

After fifteen seconds, Temari reversed the maneuver, switching hands I mid-slide. She dropped the seals from her palm to the bedspread. The double diamond pattern on the seal was now stained and glistening with crimson. She drew a shaky breath of relief.

Gaara's sobs were tapering off now. He seemed to have cried himself unconscious. But Temari couldn't bring herself to move her hand from his shoulder.

Continued in our next…
A/N: Sorry this took long to arrive. Reality occurred hard for a while. Joy, death and general mayhem. Jerry Juhl, head writer for the Muppets for many years, whom I had been in email contact with since high school, died September 27th this year. He was a very funny, very kind man; I miss him more than I even think I know. On the other hand, my aunt got married to her partner at the beginning of the month. Not a legally recognized marriage, of course, damn our state laws, but as legitimate as any. Gorgeous wedding. That's some of what has delayed me.

Some are confused as to when this story takes place. I recommend reading my first fic, Step On A Crack. For those who refuse, it takes place just after the Sand Team returns from the Chuunin Exams disaster.

For you reviewers:

Junsui: Nobody in anime ever gets, like, simply sick, do they? I don't think I've seen anyone in Naruto catch a simple bug. Gaara's here is a bit more complex, as you shall find out.

Hurricane-rider: Thanks. I like switching POVs with each story. It's fun putting on different glasses, as it were. Shikamaru's fun to write, because you must ask, how does one think like a genius? I just figure geniuses think the same as anyone, just a good deal faster, in general, or in certain areas.

Ion: Glad you liked the blood seals. This middle story had to have blood as a theme, so I needed some way to get to Gaara's, and I know he'd never have a thing to do with syringes of any kind. (Neither would I, given the choice. HATE shots! Hate blood drawing worse. And drip feeds? Forget it! Ick!)

Manachan: Glad you liked, and read even, Step On A Crack. There is a bit of Shika/Tem in here. I'm not going to get too serious about it here, though, but it's there. They have too much to deal with in this story first.

A lilmatchgirl: I do follow the manga. I know the sand is special, but probably more special to Shukaku than Gaara. I always thought that it was a conveniently sized batch that he was used to using to feed the demon, but I think it could have been any sand, as long as his spilled blood on it. But there's a reason he ditches it in the story, you'll see.

Other reviewers, thank you for commenting. I hope you find this installment good. More to come. Bon appetite.