Title: Sleep.Dream.Wake.Live
Author: Winter Ashby (rosweldrmr)
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto and I am in NO way affiliated with Masashi Kishimoto-sama. :pout: He's doing a great job, though. Ganbatte Kishimoto-sama.
Rating: T
Summary: Gaara sleeps and dreams and wakes with a hole in his chest and an image of pink, green, red, and pale skin drawing him out and away from what he used to be. He finds her broken and covered in blood that's not her own. Will they ever find solace?
Authors Notes: I dedicate this chapter to Chixon because she gave me the wonderful new title. Everyone thank her before the title totally sucked before.

The style has changed, and I've actually tried my hand at a little humour, I know it may not work, so let me know.

"Ohayo, Gaara-sama." Sakura's unfathomably bright voice greeted him as his eyes slanted sideways past the filtering morning light to focus on the pink across the room. But as the sleep crept from his scenes and his eyes un-blurred, he realized it was a towel. "Couchirou." She instructed, sensing his confusion.

He turned his pale, withered face to the woman with her back to the wall. "Hm." He responded, expertly avoiding any sense of apprehension for the sheets over his skin or the cresting sun. Her green eyes locked on the opened window as the pinks, reds, and oranges peaked past the tress. He began the business of detangling himself from the white cotton coffin he'd locked himself into. He sat and was painfully aware that she was now leaning her arm on his gourd. Anger, anxiety, mortality, fear. He was unfamiliar with how to proceed. He almost wished he still had another voice in his head, just to give a suggestion.

"Ah, gomen, gomen." She responded steadily, standing and side stepping his approaching form. He reached for the familiar, worn leather strap and went about the business of slipping it on and quickly lacing the white sash around it and himself.

"How long?" his curt, familiar voice filled the room for the first time. She thought it seemed a little out of place. After all, she'd never had a man in her room before. But she didn't think telling him that would satisfy the irritated look in his eyes.

"Only through the night." She responded, on her way to the bed. She knew it didn't matter. But her hands itched to keep busy. And the unmade sheets and rumpled pillows called her attention.

"No." he responded again, annoyed with having to repeat or clarify himself. It was not something he was accustomed to doing. She turned, innocent eyes, pink hair falling around her face. She wasn't wearing her headband, he wished she would. The twinge in his fingertips to pull the hair out of her face was annoying as well. He frowned. She smiled.

"Nani?" so naïve, so young. He felt a million years older than her. She was a child, an innocent. He remembered slamming her against a tree, wild eyes and brilliant defiance flashed behind his closed eyes. Maybe she wasn't that young. He sighed, but feeling incomplete yet again he crossed his arms and pinned her with a glair. She didn't seem to notice.

His increasing frown and angry glair was nothing normal. Being around Sasuke for so long had at least prepared her for that. It made her heart ache to know that Sasuke was the bad guy now, while the strange red-haired Kage in her room was an ally. He looked more aggravated and spoke again.

"How long since my death." The words were effortless, but the feigned disinterest that colored his face was painfully clear. Anger, hatred, pity, confusion. Human, she reminded herself.

"Only a week or so." She turned back to the bed and started straightening pillows and yanking at the sheets. It all seemed hopelessly pointless, seeing as she was just going to mess it all up tonight again. Change, he reminded himself was something most feared and he was no exception. Perhaps this was part of her normalcy. She stilled her movements, and he watched fixed on her dark form. "How long was I?" the sickening sweetness that was before present slipped away and was buried by a deep sadness that coated her words.

"A day." She turned her head over her shoulder and gave a quick nod. Then, like a cloud passing over the sun, the sadness was gone and it seemed as though even her hair brightened. "You shouldn't drink so much." The words escaping his lips nearly surprised him. He hadn't intended to speak. So he frowned even deeper.

She didn't respond. Truthfully his presence in her room was making her head spin. "Why are you here?" she chose to go with blunt rather than inconspicuous. She finished making her bed and turned fully to face the enigma.

"I do not know." He concluded with a slight cock of his head to the left and returned her intense gaze. "May I eat?" regal, elegant as a Kage should be. She wondered what had changed so much in him since those lonely days as a genin.

"Hai." Even if he wasn't her Kage, he was a nation's beloved and feared leader. She responded dutifully with all the respect she knew he deserved. Sand was a new ally of the leaf; whatever his reasons were he obviously was not hostile. But if she was truthful with herself for even a moment she would be forced to admit that there was more behind the dutiful politeness. There was gratitude that accompanied the lingering memory of his hands holding her hair back while she vomited. So responded in a gracefully bow.

She bowed deeply, bending perfectly at the waist. Classically trained, she was obviously no stranger to greeting diplomats. He tilted his head just enough to show he acknowledged her reverence and followed her retreating form back into the kitchen.

They maintained the silence as the minutes stretched out. The only sounds were that of the clinks of a pot on the stove and cabinets opening. When the water finally ran, the sun was leaking in through the grime on her kitchen window. He stood with his side against the wall, watching her movements. He had no real interest in the activities of making ramen, but watching her pink hair sway back and forth as she busied herself made him feel lightheaded. After all, the reason he had fled his home was standing in front of him, he saw no harm in indulging himself the luxury of watching. She didn't seem to notice, so he continued.

Her tan skirt moved with her, and the muscles slid under the smooth layer of skin as she reached for this, or bent for that. The two perfect round orbs of her backside were currently occupying his line of vision when a knock at the door pulled him from his musings.

He made no effort to move and her eyes met his, almost expectantly. She wasn't sure what she was asking him with her eyes, but the nearly boiling water, and the flour and dough that covered her hands were a kind of indication. She lifted a pink eyebrow at him and watched with curious fascination as his frown deepened.

He uncrossed his arms, and pushed off from the white wall. The short trip through the living room was not long enough to decide what exactly he was doing. But the doorknob under his finger turned so he pulled. Actions seemed to be happening without his knowledge of them. He blamed the imprinted picture of her upturned eyebrow at him.

"Ga…Gaara?" silver hair occupied his vision and clouded the rising sun at his back. The man in question was her former sensei, he knew this and memories of distant deserts and idle threats filled his head. He stood, unmoving at the sight of vague familiarity. The man seemed to regain his senses soon after and bowed fully. "Kazekage-sama, ohayo."

He gave a subtle glance over his shoulder towards the pitiful kitchen to his back. There was no pink, he wasn't sure what to make of that. So he turned back and gave a little nod of recognition.

"Is Sakura here?" the half lidded eye flickered past him, for a second, and then was back. He could feel the man's apprehension rising, he pitied him. He didn't like that feeling. There was something thing he was missing. The disheveled appearance of the man signified he'd just arrived back from a mission. So why had he not gone home to rest, or fill out paper work. There was indeed something quiet wrong with the whole situation. The state which he found the kunoichi the night before was proof of that.

He nodded and opened the door fully to allow the taller man entrance. His eyes moved rapidly around the room, finally resting on the kitchen that was emanating the smell of cooking ramen. But there was another smell he tried to place as he shut the door. It registered as acidic, and instantly he knew, as did the inu shinobi, what it was.

Silver hair moved faster through the entranceway. Gaara was only a second behind, hands clenching at his sides. Tears, fresh, free flowing tears. He'd seen her cry in the dark of the night, and smelled the sake on her breath. But in the daylight it almost seemed too depressing to bear. Her tears were suffocating the air in the room, invading his mind.

He turned to corner to see her cradled form in the arms of the other man. Kakashi, part of his mind corrected him. He stood, unsure what to do or what he had missed in the minute and a half it took to answer the door. So he stood and watched as her frail, mortal form shook with the weight of her own sobbing. He was unable to look away and the powerful man enveloped her in his arms and lifted her frame up effortlessly. He remained in place as the other two bodies brushed past him and disappeared behind the bedroom door.

Instead his face turned to the water bubbling over and sizzling on the stove. He moved then, drawn in by the sent of savory noodles and warm broth. The wooden spoon in his hands and the ingredients finally in the pot finally gave way to an opened door and emerging form.

"Dojobu nanica? His back was still turned, but he knew it wasn't the female that surfaced. The smooth ripple of his voice flexed and Kakashi trailed into the kitchen with long, slow steps. He was testing the air in the room with his sensitive nose, searching for answers. Gaara found none.

"She's sleeping." Kakashi settled for crossing his arms and learning with his back against the wall much as he had just been doing earlier. "I didn't expect to find you here…" he knew there was more to the thought. But that didn't interest him; whatever the older man was going to say was unimportant. He interrupted.

"What happened?" he reached for the bowls she had laid out before her relapse into the oblivion. He ladled out a portion for himself and turned to face Kakashi and ate. He hardened his eyes at the sight of just barely visible anger dancing through his face. But then there was something else, pain. Gaara took a bite and had to control the gag that threatened to overtake his expression. He swallowed with great effort and placed the bowl back on the counter. He made a note to himself. Learn to cook.

"Naruto is dead." The calloused expression and sweeping grief that nearly crippled Gaara's featured was evident. But it made sense, her heart wrenching sobs and drowning in hidden bottles of sake.

"Doshde?" he couldn't be sure, but he had the sudden and overwhelming feeling of icy fingers closing around his heart. From deep inside he felt something break, or tear. It was violent and completely unexpected. With the demon that occupied his thoughts before, he'd never really been able to feel his own emotions. But now his stoic features felt heavy and out of place. His fists clenched and he wished he could still release the demonic rage in his heart. He didn't like the feeling that washed over him. And desperately he shut his eyes to block out the sensation of burning in his eyes. "How could Uzumaki be dead?"

There was no answer, he wasn't sure if he expected any. So he stood, fists clenched, eyes shut, grieving and yet not knowing what it was called. He saw bright blue eyes and flamboyant yellow hair; unruly attitude and unrelenting dreams. Hatefully anger filled the empty hole in his chest and made it hard to breath. He felt like he was gasping and maybe he was. He didn't open his eyes; he knew the disgusting tears would fall. His finger itched to touch soft pink hair and drown in her sent. He wanted to crawl into bed next to her and sleep forever. But there was something more than that too, he realized with agonizing certainty. He craved to wrap his arms around her and shield her. He wanted to protect her; the urge was so strong he opened his eyes with a new found strength.

"Soca. You may leave now. She is under my care." He informed the jounin with a dangerous voice as he made his way to the bedroom door. Pink, green, red, and pale skin.

"Ah, Kazekage-sama I can look after her. You really don't need to be here." Kakashi lifted his hands to stop the former monster in his tracks. There was a threat there; he could see it in the taller man's eyes. He didn't pay attention. He was a ruthless killer, defender of flower petals. He pushed the last thought from his mind and continued forward, unhindered.

"Move aside." He only offered the short sentence as a pointed retaliation. He knew the sharingan user was aware of the meaning behind his words. "I have a debt to repay to Uzumaki; I will care for her in his stead. He would wish it so." The layer of sand that dripped down his front and over Kakashi's hand was the only indication that the boy was already gone. As the sand clone slithered away Gaara was in the room, pulling the gourd from his back.

He didn't understand all the emotions he felt, he didn't know what to do or how to stop the throbbing in his soul. After his slumber he entertained the notion that he had changed. His first transformation took place in this village at the hands of the other Jinchuuriki. His second was yet again under the hands of the same, unrelenting boy.

The leather strap slipped from his hands as his mind raced to understand what this new chakra flow in his system was. It was not the monster he was accustom to, and yet it was not his own. He hadn't had much time to adjust to the new power that flowed in him. But being the Kage of the suna offered for previous interactions with Chiyo-sama. He recalled before his sleep that he could still feel her presence from within him. And now, with a kind of epiphany he was proud to admit he recognized this new chakra too.

Although it had lain dormant in him until now, there was no mistaking that kind of fitful restlessness. Naruto's chakra crackled inside him, itching to be closer to her. There was a demand in his heart that pulled him forward. The strange yearning to hold her, protect her, love her. He was sure now that it was Naruto's power in him that burned to protect her at all cost. Even if the pain she was feeling was because of his death. His soul now had a new container to invade and dominate. He was powerless to stop this force. But unlike the monster that had tried in vain to control him, Gaara found his own heart giving in to the plea of his former comrade.

He set his hands on the edge of the bed and bowed his head in the morning light to look at the sleeping girl. The icy fingers returned again, but this time he let himself indulge in a wince of phantom pain. In the solitary confines of her room he registered the shut of the front door. The inu jounin was gone, he was glad. The protective surge that gripped his world dissipated just a little.

She was so little, so small, so fragile. He felt if he breathed too hard, he might break her. So he dropped to his knees and rested his weary chin on the soft fabric of the bed. He frowned, thinking of how she'd just made it. He frowned even deeper knowing she'd just make it again. He reached his hand across the white sheets to gently touch the back of her tiny ones. They were scared and rough; a shinobi's hands.

A silent tear slid down her cheek. He could almost taste it own his own lips and he suddenly hated that tear. It wanted to exterminate it from his world. He wished he could trap it and torture it so it would know better than to mar her perfect skin. He reached for it, and brushed a calloused thumb over supple pink lips wet with her own tears.

There was a sad little sob as she blindly reached forward, gripping the thick red material of his shirt. Desperate, vibrant green eyes met confusing pupil-less ones. "Naruto?" frantic pleading filled her voice as she held firmly to him. He moved his hands to cover hers with slow determination.

"Eya." He shook his head and hung his eyes low. She could have sworn she just felt Naruto's presence in her room. But it was Gaara's face that greeted her, bland, broken, pale, powerful, lonely. She had expected to see Kakashi, but was surprisingly alright with her new companion. His emotionless eyes were a great reprieve from her all too expressive ones. She wished she had more sake.

"Why… why are you here." Her gentle voice, racked with pain and guilt met his stinging ears past the pounding flow of his heart. Her hands still clenched beneath his, she didn't seem inclined to move them. He wasn't going to make her. Besides, it felt more like she was holding on to him rather than trying to push him away.

"I have a debt to repay." He repeated and frowned to know that he had done so. He should have thought of another way to phrase it. "I owe him at least this much." For unknown reasons he could feel a tint of softness appear on the edges of his words. He didn't like it, but from the sweeping, shuddering breath she took, she had. So he did it again. "I will be looking after you. Sleep now, you are safe." Then he released her hand and savored in the knowledge that she let her free hand linger in his shirt.

It was the tendril of tantalizing hope he gave her that made her hands stay entwined in his shirt and gaze into the newly kind eyes. Even with the deep black rims, they were a new shade of peaceful she had never noticed before. Although she knew it was ridiculous, his presence near her was calming. It was almost like an anesthetic to her grief.

She knew it was crazy, she understood it was the haze of paralyzing fear that ripped her future that made her do it. Be regardless of her insane reasons, she let her hand pull tighter at the smooth fabric and pull forward. With her fists still balling his shirt in her hand she turned her back to him, feeling his weight on the soft mattress has his body made contact.

He didn't question her actions, but smoothly slid into the soft sheets with her. His tentative hands hesitated as his mind screamed for him to wrap her in his arms. He'd never been one to hesitate and he didn't enjoy the feeling of the uncertainty in his fingers. So he let his heart pull him close to her, her back flush against his chest and drop a trembling arm over her waist.

There was no apprehension as she wiggled back to further fuse her aching body against him. Even if he was shorter than the man she was imagining, it didn't matter. He was strong, he was here. He was going to protect her, he was a nice monster. He was so like him in so many ways. But now this man was a kind hearted, benevolent Kage and she was a selfish killer. It was her fault he was dead, it was her choice to leave him. But now Gaara was here, and she didn't know why. So she didn't question anymore but let the hypnotizing feel on his strong chest rise and fall against her back lull her to sleep.

She fell into a shallow, fitful sleep as he continued to hold her all though the passing day. Eventually he closed his weary eyes and let his sore body enjoy the growing familiarity of sweet oblivion rising from the darkness to overtaking him. But still he held her, and part of him was quieter for it. He felt at peace, completed in some way he wasn't even aware he was lacking. But then there was the Gaara side, the side that made the mass in his chest shudder at the feel of her stomach just past the cloth under his fingertips. But he shut him out and let the power of the man he admired and now mourned manifest and delight in the sensation of her in his arms.

They slept. They dreamt. They woke.

The first line was a little tribute to wayofthepen's 'Good Morning Gaara'. It's a cute little fic about the same concept. She posted hers first, but I swear I didn't copy the idea; I was already working on mine when I saw hers. But check it out, I think there's a sequel to it now too.

To SilverSimoneLady, your words of encouragement and praise have been great. I read it whenever I'm feeling a little blue, which if you look at my stories is quite often.

To Statik, thanks watching this and for the comment.

TrueLoveHurts, Thank you for your kind words. I really appriciated them.

Finally, CrazyBananaTree, great name by the way, you saved this story. I wasn't even going to post this chapter for a while but you made me change my mind and keep going with chapter 3, which is almost done now! Yay.