A/N: Ah, at last, we get to the real plot - and my biggest challenge: keeping Gaara in character! Worse - keeping Gaara in character through Sakura's eyes. And let's just assume that Sakura didn't know about Gaara's promotion, eh? Let me know if there are any glaring mistakes.

"Very good, Kakashi. That reaction was very 'modern' and it pisses me off!"
-Maito Gai

Chapter 3

Well, That Went Well

"Kazekage-sama," she found her voice again, and felt some small measure of pride and shock to hear it so steady. "Greetings. I have been sent by the Fifth Hokage, Tsunade-sama of Konoha" Oh, Tsunade-sensei, I am going to poison your sake, Sakura growled to herself. You could have warned me. "I have been sent for the traditional jutsu trade to strengthen our respectable nations." The speech came easier than she expected. Formalities were good. Formalities were familiar.

He nodded, and took the scroll she offered him. There was nothing in his aura to alarm her, but there was nothing to ease her either. He felt like…a void. Nothing. "You'll be given a room."

"Thank you, Kaze-"

"A genin will come for you." he cut her off. "You can clean up. You are not presentable." His eyes raked her once, and under the brief, indifferent scrutiny the extent of her filthy state seemed to hit her all at once. She was dusty, dirty, sweat-encrusted, and probably pale and sickly from her encounter with the heat of the desert. Her hair was a matted mess of pink, her eyes probably had black bags under them (nothing like the darkness that rimmed his own, but that was a thought on which she refused to dwell). And she stank. Oh, she reeked.

What a lovely representative I make, she thought bitterly, as she watched him turn his back and glide to the door. Way to go, Konoha. We're coming across well. Damnit, this was not exactly how she'd intended to do things. Even so, there was really no call for him to be so brusque, so openly contemptuous. She watched his retreating back, and something in her cracked a little. "Was that necessary?" she demanded rebelliously.

He stopped walking, and turned his head to stare at her from the corner of one eye. "What?" His voice, rough to begin, had a mild edge to it that warned her not to push her luck.

But one can't be an apprentice to a chronic gambler and not pick up a taste for taking the occasional risk as well. The chunin let her scowl come out with all its Inner Sakura glory, and felt the heady rush that accompanied the complete loss of sanity. "You've already made me feel completely uncomfortable and unwelcome by making me sit around and await your leisure after my trip," she snapped, folding her arms. "Was it necessary to further provoke me by insulting my appearance?"

His frown was not as petulant as hers, but for the first time she began to feel an undercurrent of a tension she couldn't quite name in his otherwise empty aura. "I spoke the truth."

"But it was unnecessary," Sakura countered, unyielding. "And on top of that, it was insulting. It's bad enough you treated me like I was beneath your notice."

He stared at her. "You require my acknowledgement?" Sakura had the uneasy sensation that the tension she was picking up in his aura was annoyance, and that it was not a healthy thing to provoke in him. "Why?"

"Well…" the kunoichi titled her head and shrugged in mild frustration. "It's just…common courtesy." He's probably never heard of it, she thought privately, watching his forehead smooth again. A hint of a smirk hovered on his face, and though it frightened her it also infuriated her. Take me seriously, damn it!

"You are so easily pacified?"

The question threw her a little until she realized what he meant. A little politeness was hardly all she wanted out of life, but . . . "It would be a start." And it would go a long way to soothing the fraying ends of her temper right now. But that was a side note.

"Why do you require acknowledgement?" He asked again. He was definitely smirking then, and the edge of his upper lip curled oh so slightly.

Time to back off, maybe, Sakura noted worriedly, but somehow it was far too late for that. "Why do you?" she shot back, and had the momentary satisfaction of seeing the surprise that flickered over his features before the chin lowered, the eyes narrowed, and something that resembled a growl rumbled in the back of his throat for a moment.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been horrified at herself for the enormous breach in protocol, might have been terrified to be deliberately antagonizing a man who had once nearly crushed her to death for the sick pleasure of feeling her blood rain down on him. But this mission had started as a pain, and it had done nothing but go downhill from there. She was tired, hungry, thirsty, gritty, and damn it, what did it take to make people stop treating her like an annoyance?

So she did the unthinkable. She tossed her tangled hair back and glared straight into his visible eyeball. It was a challenge, and he knew it.

He turned his body partially around, and faced her fully. The full impact of his black-rimmed glower pushed against her, and the rational part of her started sending up red flags uneasily. She recalled, perhaps a few minutes too late, something Naruto had told her once about him. Gaara had gone to the hospital after the preliminary matches in her first chunin exam. The Sand shinobi had almost killed Lee as he lay asleep in his bed, and when Naruto had stopped him, he had laughed. Told them that he was going to kill them all for the joy of it, the love of it, and laughed.

This was not a man to be challenged lightly.

He snorted in mild contempt, and she realized that as she had drifted into her memories, she had allowed her eyes to lower. The contempt in Gaara's laugh, though, momentarily pushed back against the memory of Naruto's story. Damn it to hell. She was not going to give that easily - although mentally, Sakura was patiently noting that the window was probably the weakest part of the wall, and the stone table might serve as a distracting projectile to slow him long enough for her to throw a blow or two. She planted her feet, put her hands on her hips, and raised one eyebrow. A medical nin is patient, Tsunade had told her. She would wait him out.

The derisive smirk remained firmly in place, but the Leaf shinobi felt the vague tension, the annoyance (if that's what it really was) leave his aura. He felt like a nothingness again, a dark and empty void. She tried not to notice it, nor the hint of…satisfaction?...that flashed in his eyes for the briefest of moments.

He nodded to her, once, and with no further comment vanished into the hall. The satisfied look had thrown her; she wasn't sure why her stupidity should please him in any way. Maybe it hadn't been that, maybe it had merely been a moment of joy as he imagined crushing her into a tiny wad of pulp. But she was still, undeniably, left feeling vaguely triumphant. She had drawn a line in the sand, and though he hadn't crossed it, he had acknowledged it. That was a start.

I think I may have blown that one nice and thorough, Sakura commented internally, but the chunin was just too tired to dwell on it right now. I hope they have showers here, she thought wearily, and spent the next five minutes contemplating the joys of personal cleanliness. It was the safest thing she could think about right now.

A genin did indeed arrive a few minutes later to lead her to a relatively nice room. It wasn't much bigger than the one she had sat in first, but this one at least had a low bed, a small stone table that resembled a desk and a larger portal window that looked out over the village. It didn't open, but she had no reason to want it to. If it came to escape, she could easily smash through, double paned glass or not. There was an enclosed washing space in the corner, and to her relief it had a shower, a basin, and plumbing. Nonetheless, she was careful to wash quickly and efficiently, wasting no more water than she needed. A day in the desert had taught her the value of frugality when it came to the precious liquid.

Clean body, clean hair, clean clothes, and she was already feeling much better. She threw her filthy outfit into the basin, scrubbed those as well as she could, and then left them slung over the towel bar on the wall to dry. There. She considered her options: she could sit here and wait to be fetched at her host's convenience. She could wander randomly around until she found someone and ask to be given a …what? A tour? A task? Another audience with the Sand shinobi she still, on a deep, animal level, feared? Hmm. Option three it is, she decided. Nap time.

Outside, the wind moaned with increasing restlessness around the portal window, and the residents of the Hidden Village of Sand quietly closed up shop. Sand storms were common here, just another part of life. From the looks of it, this one was going to be rough.