Show stress + writing stress = dreaming of accidentally sending a beta chapter to an unsuspecting artist alley head.
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It seemed Sasuke wasn't used to being ignored.

Gaara opened his refrigerator, squatted in front of it, and considered its contents. Sasuke'd turned to face him but still said nothing, also refusing to engage even though his fraying temper showed through his too-tense posture. Sand grains on the floor told Gaara the body had weight, was actually there, wasn't part of some trap's illusion.

For a moment he considered burying the Uchiha fifty feet straight down while he was still alive, considered how it'd feel to walk over the spot every day . . . then rejected the thought just as quickly. Sasuke'd been circling for the past hour, so this wasn't some attack born of blind rage—which complicated the situation. If the deserter had come at him or anyone else like a rabid animal, Gaara could easily justify killing him without a second thought. But now?

Now it was caution that held him back, he told himself, and not at all that he finally had a chance to clash with one of Leaf's annoyances in person. He could cut the deserter in a hundred bloodless, mundane ways, with actions as well as words . . . Eventually Sasuke's control would give.

Or maybe he could stay quiet, Sasuke could stay quiet, and Naruto'd turn up in a few hours to find them both sitting at the table, determinedly trying to bore each other to death.

No. It'd take too long, and give any of Sand's ninjas a chance to walk in on them and accidentally become targets.

"How many of my sentries did you kill on the way in?" he asked.

"None."

Gaara inclined his head politely, then resumed putting groceries away. "Thank you."

When he was very young he'd watched a mouse run directly at a cat, its suicidal charge confusing the cat enough that it shied away rather than attack. He remembered Yashamaru explaining how the mouse was sick—and while the cat might not know the mouse's reasons, it still understood something was wrong.

Then, the solution had appeared simple. Gaara'd crushed the mouse and turned to his uncle, expecting praise for his cleverness, only to find the man watching him with a poorly-concealed mix of worry and alarm which would later become all too familiar. This time, though, he had no idea what sort of traps or failsafes Sasuke had set in place before finally approaching.

And now he was just thinking himself in circles.

But if the Uchiha had a plan, he could be pushed or baited or tricked into giving it up. Before their first chuunin exam, Gaara had hunted Sasuke down where he was training and needled him into a killing rage with just a few words. This time Sasuke'd been arrogant—or stupid—enough to come to him.

"Your teammates both want you alive." The groceries were finished. Gaara found a couple glasses, considerately scooped some ice into them, then filled them from the sink. "Though I don't understand why."

The taller shinobi—because of course the bastard had turned out taller—watched him, seething.

Gaara held out a glass, his expression fixed at mild and his half-focused gaze directed at the other's solar plexus; all the better to see any movement of Sasuke's hands or feet, and all the better to not accidentally look him in the eye. "Would you like some water?"

Sasuke ignored the offer. "Why are you doing this?"

Because if he kept the Uchiha off-balance and distracted, he'd be far less likely to attempt something terrible. Because Gaara'd learned how to work around violently unstable ninjas by watching how his father and Baki and Yashamaru had worked around him. Because he already knew Tsunade'd failed by trying to reasonably engage Sasuke when she thought she still had something of an upper hand.

Because if Sasuke attacked him, he wouldn't have to lie to Sakura or Naruto about who'd struck first.

Instead Gaara said, "Why not? You're not the first person to come after me—or the third, or the thirtieth. I've dealt with intruders and attempted assassins for years. It feels . . . Less, after a while. Usually it was someone who wanted vengeance because I'd killed someone they knew or were close to; sometimes it was a person who didn't think Shukaku's vessel should be Kazekage. It's never been over a woman before." He set the glass down near Sasuke and walked back to the kitchen. "But it would all end the same way: They'd attack me, I'd fight them, I'd win."

The Uchiha's hands twitched. "You'd kill them."

"No. If I'd killed them I'd be irredeemable. I think you know that—and that's why Tsunade's still alive. Leaf's elders are idiots but no one in their right mind could justify taking a Hokage's murderer back into the fold, no matter your bloodline. Why are you here?"

"You know why."

"Say it. Humor me." Gaara turned his back for a second to pick up the empty grocery bag; behind cover, his hands flicked through a series of seals. "Make it real."

From the corner of his eye he could see how Sasuke's fists clenched. Finally, with great effort, the Leaf-nin spoke: "You stole Sakura from me."

ooo

Sand clones spun to existence throughout the building and spoke to tenants and visitors in one voice: "Get out of here."

ooo

"That's stupid," Gaara scoffed from over his shoulder. "I didn't steal Sakura—I just gave her options. She wanted to be here, then she wanted to stay."

"You gave her bait."

"Telling her she didn't immediately have to get married and have children is bait?"

Standing still and facing Sasuke would be saying he considered the other a serious threat, one which deserved his undivided attention. Doing otherwise would be an insult.

Sakura'd left their dishes from breakfast and dinner in the drying rack; he started putting them away.

Sasuke took a step towards him and gestured sharply, dismissively. "That couldn't have been it. I'm all she's wanted for years. Years. And now she's just changed her mind? What did you do?"

Gaara put the dishes away in pairs, clinking them together, willing Sasuke to think about Sakura having a normal, domestic life without him: Bowls; one, two. Plates; one, two. Cups; one, two. When he replied he kept his tone measured, as if speaking to a child. "Spent time with her. Walked a lot. Talked to her about what she wanted. Took her concerns seriously. Told her it was all right when she said she didn't want to immediately get married and have children." He looked towards the intruder again, watching for a reaction. "She wrote Tsunade an entire letter about this. I'm sure you read it."

"That? Incoherent, irrational garbage. It didn't even make sense—and the one she sent me was worse."

"The one where she turned you down," Gaara returned dryly, "and told you she didn't want to get married or have children yet. And that she didn't feel like you respected her. Is that why you've been following me around rather than approaching her? Because what she wants doesn't make sense to you? Or because you don't want to hear it again?"

"You don't get it. She acted like she was interested, didn't say anything to make me think she didn't want me—then left Leaf to jump into bed with you."

Gaara remembered Sakura's state when she'd first arrived: weariness, tears, fear, the way she'd clung to him in Sand's cold night. Had she really hidden everything she was feeling when Sasuke'd last talked to her? He doubted it.

His visitor continued to rant.

"She would've had whatever she wanted in Leaf, every comfort, and she threw it all away. For what? For you? For this place? To be the shining star of your medics? That's the problem with girls like her. She doesn't think. She's all emotion—not reason, not logic."

"I think Sakura's very logical," Gaara said, closed the cabinets, and turned to face the Leaf-nin. "She wouldn't commit to anything serious with me until she knew what she wanted for herself—and I know she told us both what she wanted once she figured it out." He let himself smile a little, let the smile have a lascivious edge. "She was also very understanding when I told her I might have to kill you."

"It's because you're fucking her, isn't it?"

He pretended to not understand. "Sakura knows I'll kill you if you're a threat to any of my people. As she's now one of my people, she might even appreciate the sentiment. What we do together doesn't change that."

Sasuke's tone carried the victorious, spiteful smile so well that Gaara could see it without looking at his face. "So you have been fucking her."

"In every way we could think of. Are you sure you don't want the water?"

ooo

Sand clones materialized by Temari and Kankurou and explained things tersely: Sasuke was at his place and agitated, but seemed to be waiting on something. Gaara'd been trying to lead him but thus far had gotten no significant reaction or admission—so he needed his siblings to mobilize everyone available and search for traps, devices, anything amiss.

ooo

"You're disgusting," Sasuke hissed.

Now they were getting somewhere.

"You asked. If you wanted someone to spare your feelings, you should've stayed in Leaf—though that didn't do them much good either." Gaara passed Sasuke again on his way to the table, with its tidy stacks of medical texts. He touched one, deliberately drawing attention to it, but didn't move them; Sakura had a system. "Now what, though? Why are you here? To try to win her back? Do you think she'll see you and change her mind?"

"I don't want her. I wouldn't touch her now that you've had her."

Gaara nodded. There was enough vehemence in the words that he believed them, and could be a little less concerned Sasuke's reasons for being in Sand involved some combination of kidnapping and rape.

. . . But just a few days before, Sasuke'd been certain Sakura was going to marry him. Had he changed his stance on her that completely, that quickly?

"Okay," Gaara said. "So why are you here? Did you want me to argue with you over which of us cares for her more?" He waited. No answer. He continued as if there'd been one. "I won't. I won't speak in her stead, either. She already made her choice."

"She had no reason."

Aside from the ones she'd detailed over and over, Gaara thought. "Does she actually seem irrational to you?" he asked, sincerely curious. "Or is it that she's not doing what you want?"

"She's—" Sasuke turned his head and bit back whatever he'd meant to say, then abruptly straightened and waved his hand as if casting something aside. "It doesn't matter. It's her loss."

"Okay. You can leave the door open on your way out," Gaara told him, and turned his back on the other man entirely.

Sasuke didn't move. Gaara folded his arms and let out a breath; it'd been a gamble, and he didn't know what he would've done had Sasuke taken the suggestion and walked out to a village of fully mobilized Sand-nin.

. . . Though planting the Uchiha fifty feet straight down in front of the building's entryway was still a tantalizing option.

There was still a faint hint of musk and sweat and semen in the air; he'd definitely have to do better with airing his bedroom out. He wondered how poorly Sasuke would react if he drew attention to it by stripping his bed to do laundry.

"If you're leaving," he said, with utmost politeness, "you'll want to look out for Naruto. He's not far behind you, and I understand he's . . . Disappointed in you."

"You made a promise to him, didn't you? To spare my life?"

"If I had?" Gaara asked, testing.

"It'd be stupid and pitiful of you—but you've been trying to be him for years now. Even this, here, trying to talk me down because that's what he would do, and because he doesn't want me dead."

So Sasuke thought he had a safety net.

"Being able to talk sense to people is part of being a leader," Gaara said. "I had to learn how, and I've failed at it any number of times. I used to think I just wasn't as good at it as Naruto . . . but then I realized success had more to do with the person being in a place where they were willing to listen, and to try to understand." His place to understand had been flat on his back, beaten immobile and mortally terrified of how the genin still crawling towards him just. Wouldn't. Stop. "Did you never get there? It took a lot for me; it took realizing how wrong I was, about so many things. I used to think I was untouchable—and then I met you people. It was . . . Humbling." His smile was genuine, though with his back turned Sasuke couldn't see it. "But it taught me something that helped me become better, become Kazekage." Gaara finally looked towards the Uchiha and let a tiny bit of the malice he felt be seen with the twist of his lips and faintest baring of his teeth. "Something I don't think you ever learned: how to get over myself."

Sasuke coiled, serpentine, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet and hands lifting with anticipation. Gaara mentally chided himself: with that display of aggression, he'd almost given Sasuke a fight he knew.

. . . But now he also knew Sasuke'd been deliberately holding back, and would welcome the chance for the two of them to collide like murderous juggernauts. So now—despite wanting the clash so much he could all but feel the other man's bones snapping—Gaara needed to change direction, reestablish control of the situation.

"Sakura saw it," he said. "When she got here she was so afraid of what all of you would do to her or push her into that she could barely eat, barely sleep—but she could still give me a hard time." Gaara watched some of the battle-readiness drain from his foe—being reminded of Sakura's fear still stung, then—and before Sasuke could mentally regroup, he gouged again. "What's that mean to you? That she was afraid of you, of a life with you, but not of me?"

The insult goaded Sasuke to defending himself with deflection, accusations: "You don't get it. I was supposed to be getting married—it was supposed to be done already—and she just decided to say no out of nowhere, for no reason? Or because you were here, with your picking and your pushing? That's the only way it makes sense. With an entire village of options here, with what seems like half of Leaf fawning over how you've changed, you picked her. How long did it take for you to start chasing her, after you found out I wanted her?" His next question was sharp, malignant. "How long did it take her to give in?"

"When the possibility came up, I didn't think of you. I thought about how I liked spending time with her, and how she hadn't spent more than half my life either making me miserable or being terrified of me." Gaara looked around, and let the pleasure of the memory show on his face. "It was here, you know—she'd let me know she was interested, so I made her breakfast and told her I wouldn't make any promises. I didn't know where it would go; I don't think either of us did."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care. Why are you here? It's not because you cared. I spent weeks sure you'd wise up and try to tell her what she wanted to hear—that you missed her, anything—but you didn't reach out. You don't even sound like you like her when you talk about her."

"She's just . . ."

Gaara waited, hands at his sides, his stance deliberately non-challenging.

In the streets of Sand, his siblings tapped on their belt pouches to let him know they'd not found anything yet, the consistent double impacts both a comfort and a further concern. What was Sasuke planning? He couldn't have been stupid or egotistical enough to not have a backup or escape route or bargaining point in place.

Right?

Sasuke practically spit out the words, his voice thick with emotion, with rage. "She was the only chance I had to have something normal. She was always the one who was there; she would do anything for me. Anything. She told me she loved me. I cared about her; it doesn't matter what you think, I cared about her. And then the Hokage sent her to you."

Gaara exhaled slowly. Sasuke looked up at him, scanned his expression, and snapped, "Stop looking at me like that. Like you're him. Like you think you understand."

"Don't confuse empathy and sympathy. I understand we hurt your feelings"—he lingered over the words—"but that doesn't excuse your choices." He took another breath. Imagined snapping Sasuke's ribs in ones and twos; knew Sasuke was likely imagining killing him as well. Let the breath out. "Now say the rest."

Anger and caution warred in the deserter's response. "What do you mean, the rest?"

"The rest of it. You cared for her, but. You were going to marry her, but. But what?"

Sasuke turned his head again—then, as if that wasn't enough, turned his back as well.

"She annoys you," Gaara pressed. "How many times have you told her that? Enough that she told me."

"She's always been a worthless ninja," came the retort, but the Uchiha didn't sound entirely convinced.

The redhead scowled. "Calling a full-fledged medic worthless is stupid. My brother's alive because of her. She's lost track of how many lives she's saved; I asked her. She might not be like us, as far as raw power goes—but we're not like most people."

"I don't believe it." Sasuke spun on his heel, incredulity showing in the line of his shoulders. "I was sure you were putting on a good front for Naruto, but you actually fell in love with her, didn't you?"

"Fifteen minutes," Gaara said, and snorted to himself. "You've been here fifteen minutes and figured it out. It took me days."

Sasuke didn't seem to think he was very funny, either. Perhaps he needed to work on his delivery.

Gaara shook his head. "Come on. This is absurd. You don't want her; you don't want someone else to be happy with her; you talked about marrying her but you can't even appreciate her; you insist everything would've been fine between you but you attacked the Hokage and ran for days to invade my village the minute things didn't go your way. And for what?"

"You wouldn't understand." The words came out a little quieter.

"Try me," Gaara replied. "Look at me. Look at my face"—he gestured towards the kanji on his forehead, the blackness around his eyes—"and tell me I don't know what it means to not be able to let go."

He'd stepped too far; the Leaf-nin torqued to animosity. "So you can turn it back on me? So you can rub my face in it, like everything else?"

"So you can tell me I'm wrong." Gaara held his expression at placid, relaxed his shoulders, and let himself imagine agitating the Uchiha to the point where Sasuke popped a blood vessel and saved them all a world of trouble. "I've seen you ignore her when she said no; I've seen you attack people for going against you; I've seen obscenities justified in order to keep your bloodline alive. I know exactly what Leaf's council offered me if I sent her back to breed on command—and the amount they offered me if I send you back alive in order to impregnate whoever else would hold still for you. I have every reason to believe she wouldn't be safe from any of you in Leaf—especially whenever dealing with what she wanted just became too much."

The taller ninja's anger shifted to bitter dismissiveness. "What do you know?"

"My father raped my mother pregnant and murdered her with me," Gaara said. "What would I know?"

A pause, as the bluntness of his statement momentarily took Sasuke aback—and then the Uchina shifted forward again. "You think that of me too, then. So like you said—this is all because you can't let go."

"No. This is because Sakura was afraid and I took her seriously—and you've justified both of us. You don't care about what she wanted."

"She wanted whatever I would've given her. She would've been happy."

The words came out before Gaara could stop himself: "Apparently not."

"Because of you. Because she got caught up in some selfish daydream, and you saw it and encouraged her."

"Because of you," he returned, rapid-fire. "You botched your proposal; you sabotaged your chances of a relationship with her. How much did it grate to learn she'd realized she could do better than you?"

"You, better? Because you told her what she wanted to hear, or because you convinced her this place was worth something? Or because you talked her into letting you fuck her?"

And they were back to that again. "Did you want me to argue with you over which of us is better for her, too? Over Sand's virtues? Over why Sakura'd consent to be with me and not you? I won't. I don't have anything to prove to you. You've got something to prove, though. It's at least part of why you're here." Gaara drifted towards a window, intent on pulling something useful from the argument's momentum. "Who are you angry at?"

Sasuke turned to watch him but still didn't follow. "Her. You. Both of you."

"Okay. When's the last time you ate?"

Kankurou and Temari were both moving, tapping consistently.

Then Sakura was moving, too.

ooo

Sakura'd been near the hospital doors when a chuunin's teammates had carried him in, both of them covered in the unconscious man's blood and frantically describing a training accident, and for a few minutes there'd been no Sasuke, no politics, no threats—just the immediate concern of calling directions and holding wounds together for long enough to heal them shut. After her patient was stabilized and settled in a room, she'd looked down and realized she was red to her elbows—and she'd thought of Tsunade, and how Tsunade's past had almost entirely stopped her from being a ninja let alone a medic.

The thought stuck with her as she washed up—Could it be why Tsunade still seemed off?—and once back at her own room, Sakura jotted down a quick note to Shizune: asking if she'd checked to see how their mentor reacted to the sight of blood.

She begged a quick break—official business, she swore, and promised her teasing coworkers she'd not let the Kazekage distract her—and headed for the messenger bird cotes. Once outside, she kept alert; if Sasuke'd made it into Sand and decided to attack her, she had every intention of seeing just how far she could kick him.

Sakura was a few blocks away from Gaara's when she looked at the ground and realized the area had been completely cleared of sand. She stopped walking, concerned; as she watched, a small group of ninjas landed, tersely conferred, looked around, and launched themselves in opposite directions.

Something was wrong.

She took a deep breath, trying to control the rush of adrenaline that tingled down her arms and legs. The ninjas she'd seen were still searching, but Gaara wouldn't pull a serious volume of sand into play unless he expected an immediate confrontation. She couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary so they probably weren't fighting, but when Sasuke'd gone after Tsunade, he'd done so in—oh, damn it.

What if the searchers weren't looking for Sasuke, but for something he'd done?

For a second she hesitated. It might even be finished already; a fight between Sasuke and Gaara could easily be over in seconds, the victor being whoever got a hold of the other first—but she didn't want to see the aftermath if Gaara'd proven faster, didn't want to see Sasuke tortured. But if Sasuke was faster . . .

The first possibility was unpleasant; the second, unacceptable. And she'd spent too many weeks being afraid to stand aside now.

ooo

"I don't want your food," Sasuke snapped.

"We can go out," Gaara cajoled—then ground a little more salt into the wound. "There's a spot a few blocks from here that Naruto likes."

"No."

Sasuke's tone booked no opposition. Gaara jabbed again anyway on his way to the door: "Then let's find a training ground and finish this. I'm sure you've got a new technique you're dying to tell me about."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Gaara closed his eyes and didn't move, his hand resting on the doorknob. So Sasuke didn't want to be in public with him. That had to mean something. "Naruto will be here eventually. Don't you want this finished before then?"

"Why are you doing this? You'll never be him."

He ignored the stab, noted the avoidance of his question. "They want to believe there's something worth saving in you and I'm waiting to see if I can see it, too. I'm open to the possibility. Naruto's proven me wrong before. Why are you here? You don't want Sakura back; you wouldn't have been happy with her even if you had married her. Do you want to fight me in front of her? Let her see it, maybe prove yourself that way?"

There was a shift in Sasuke's posture, in what Gaara could see of his face, and he knew he'd gotten close to something else.

But so had Sasuke.

"You don't want that, though," Sasuke said, "or you'd have her with you. You know what'll happen; it's why you've worked so hard to demonize me—to take attention off yourself. Do you think she forgot what you are, or that she's just making herself ignore it? What do you think she'll do when she remembers all it takes is for you to be pushed a little too hard, then you'll snap—just like before?"

"Not anymore." Gaara heard the tightness in his own voice and forced it away. "Not with her."

"It's always there, though. Right under the surface, just waiting. You know it as well as I do. Even Naruto knows—it's why he came here after you the same way he's coming after me. Some part of him expects the worst from both of us." The Uchiha snorted with spiteful amusement. "I guess we're still the same, after all."

"Only one of us is set on proving him right." Even though Naruto had stormed into Sand ready to fight him over Sakura as well. "What kind of time difference do you think he'll make between thinking I'm playing power games, and thinking you intend to do something horrible to people he cares for?"

"Does he really? Does he really care for you? I know how many times he's been here. He doesn't visit you like a friend—he looks at you like a curiosity, a pet he wants to be sure is kept in check."

It was a possibility Gaara'd considered before. His smile was well-practiced, comfortable, to prove the other's words hadn't reached him. "Maybe more like ongoing proof that someone can change if they want to. I can accept that."

Across the room, Sasuke sneered. "Yeah, you've told me—you changed. Everyone's told me. And somehow that makes me the bad guy for trying to do what I'm supposed to."

"How much have you tried to excuse by saying the choice was out of your hands?" Gaara asked, but Sasuke talked over him.

"You all get what you want this way, don't you? You get to steal the medic who's worth more than all of yours put together, and have people act like you're a hero for it. Sakura gets to attach herself to yet another high-ranked ninja and leave Leaf without any repercussions, because the Hokage's too sentimental to call her a deserter. And your brother and sister at Leaf all the time, laughing at me, letting everyone know—"

Gaara blinked, confused. How had Kankurou and Temari gotten caught up in this?

By standing Sasuke down once, after Naruto had beaten Gaara past being able to defend himself. By making Sasuke feel afraid once, feel like he'd lost . . . six years before. It seemed the Uchiha had brought all his grudges with him, as part of a weaponized inferiority complex—and was finally ready to unload.

Kankurou stood on a far rooftop, turning; Temari followed the line of a building's foundations. Both tapped steadily every few seconds, but neither sent the sudden jolt that'd signal their finding something amiss.

Sakura was in the street, running, and headed his way.

ooo

One of his sand clones stopped her just inside the building's entrance. Its features shifted through expressions in a muscle-less, inhuman way, and Sakura realized Gaara had to be focusing both his attention and chakra elsewhere. "Don't," it said.

"He's here, isn't he? With you?"

"Yeah."

"Let me through. You need me. I'll help."

"No."

"Damn it, Gaara—"

The clone shook its head. "No. He didn't come here just to be hateful. He's got a plan. It involves you. Right now he's killing time—and so am I. I'm keeping his attention and trying to find out what he's waiting on."

Despite the heat of the day, she went cold. "He's waiting on people you care about. Probably me. He'll try to use one of us to hurt the other." Like Gaara'd done to Naruto years before.

"Which is why I need you out of here."

"No."

He started to say her name, and she cut him off. "No. He's doing it already, don't you see? And I won't let him—I'm sick of it! I'm done with all of this—I won't stand by while he tries to hurt people I care about."

The clone abruptly focused on her. "Sakura, I can't keep track of all of this and him and fight with you at the same time."

"Well that's too bad," she said, "because right now I will fight my way through a dozen of you for the chance to punch him in the face. Save me the energy, okay?"

She meant it; even with the clone's features' shifting, she could tell he knew she meant it. For a second she was still sure he'd make her fight past him anyway.

Sakura reached and caught one cool, grainy hand in her own. "Besides: what'd you tell me about how I shouldn't be the only one there to face whatever fit he threw?"

The clone's expression moved again, disquietingly, but the smile it settled at was soothingly familiar. Then the hand in hers fell to sand as the clone collapsed, and she ran.

ooo

Sasuke trailed off and scowled suspiciously as he realized Gaara'd stopped listening. "What are you smiling about?"

"Reinforcements."

"It's her. She's here." Sasuke's attention sharpened with satisfaction and hunger, and Gaara knew Sakura was what he'd been waiting for.

"And she wants to put you through a wall. I'll enjoy watching that—I'll enjoy helping her."

Clones materialized by his siblings, said, "It's time," and immediately crumbled. He could feel Temari and Kankurou both turn and run for his building.

He could feel that they were still minutes away.

But he'd beaten Sasuke before, while wounded and out of his mind.

"You still don't get it," Sasuke said, with triumphant amusement. "I can still go back once this is done. All I have to do is apologize, maybe publicly grovel, and we both know Leaf wants me to procreate so badly they'll accept whatever story I tell them. And even if he suspects something, Naruto cares about me enough to forgive whatever I do as long as he thinks he can keep me in line."

"Once this is done, you say. Once you try to fight your way out of Sand?" Gaara stared, so incredulous he almost forgot to keep his eyes averted from his foe's face. "I've told my siblings; Sakura knows you're here, my jounin all know you're here—and I'll kill you before I let you touch any of them. There's no way out for you."

If anything, Sasuke's satisfaction deepened. "They know you've said I'm here. No one's seen me. For all Sand knows you were just being paranoid."

Gaara was missing something, something horribly, desperately important. "Did you really think you were going to be able to invade Sand, attack me, attack my people, and just walk away? Did you really think you were going to fight your way through everyone here, pull some bloodline genjutsu, and have an entire ninja village just forget who they'd faced?"

"No," Sasuke said, and smiled. "Not me."

ooo

Sand clung to the walls, the floors, and didn't give under her feet as she ran for the stairwell. Even at a distance Sakura could hear the two men shouting at each other, their words indistinct but their anger clear.

She wasn't too late.

Sakura felt the first impact of two competing techniques in her bones; the next rattled the stone walls.

She couldn't be too late.

The stairs under her feet abruptly lurched upwards—the entire building did, by a few feet. Sakura inadvertently dropped to her hands and knees, yelped as her shin hit a stone edge, and scrabbled upwards.

What the hell were they doing?

She had to get there, before—

The shouting cut off, leaving her with only the sound of her own breath—and just as suddenly, horribly, the building came down around her.