It was one of the therapists—the creepy one that squatted in the dark most of the time and stared—cold—at the patients that filed by. Evil. Dead. Black wisps of hair stuck onto his forehead as he hisses at me--no, no, got to get out, how?—and closes in on me. Tightening a hold on my blood, blood hair.

"Gaara," he whispers, and I can feel his voice defiling my name ten times over, ten, ten, a thousand--"Gaara, you're so cute."

NO! Noooo! I won't let this happen—I writhe, struggle, bite, kick, shove, manage to land a blow and he slaps me across the face, drawing blood. I remember, at the last moment, feeling utterly helpless against him—lying there, limp. Defeated.

"Gaa--"

"GAARA!" A burst of sunlight. Sunrays—blonde, blue-eyed and enraged—staring at the scene before him. The handcuffs, chaffed up against my hand, drew blood that now stained the whiteness of my shirt. Standing there, alone.

The therapist grins, teeth fanged, evil, evil, evil—no, no, no, get away, no—as he steps closer towards the other boy. "Naruto," he purrs, sidling up to the young blonde, blonde—no, golden-haired and a god—never blonde—who was staring, fixated on the floor, "how nice of you to join us."

"...let him go."

"Excuse me?"

Rage. I can feel the aura, the tempting darkness, the voices murmuring comforting words as, in blazes, my Naruto looks up in a blurring rage, "LET HIM GO!" I remember. Even all those years, as I saw this in my mind, over and over again.

Naruto, about to strike, teeth bared.

Naruto, whose eyes were not his own--wide, crazed, like mine, pupil shrunk as he locked down his prey.

I remember.

This is not my Naruto.

--

Breaking the Music

By FlightAngel

--

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill

--

I am, I find out rather reluctantly, a natural backseat driver. Of course, as I am sitting in the passenger seat and not in the backseat, it is not technically backseat driving, but I wasn't about to act smart. As the night had dyed itself a deepening purple and the multitude of blazing cars zoomed past us, I mercilessly criticized, hassled, and practically assaulted my brother on his rather horrible, shaky driving.

Another trait I share with my sister. Yay.

"Speed up, Kankuro! You're going at twenty miles per hour!"

"Twenty is good!" he wails back at me, hands clammy and clenching the wheel as if it was his last lifeline, "Twenty is a decent speed!"

"The speed limit is fifty, Kankuro!"

"Shut up! As long as I'm not going over, I'm doing fine!"

A car behind us honks at us with good measure. Pissed and feeling oddly exhilarated at my new discovery that I can act completely out-of-character, ruin my reputation and throw my pride out the door without anyone being too perturbed, I grab the wheel and force myself onto the driver's seat.

Kankuro, who had hunched up even more so after feeling my weight on him, whines, "Get off of me! I can't see! I'll crash and we'll die and it'll be all your fault!" To prove his point, the car starts to dangerously swerve from side to side, grazing the edge of a lamppost and almost zooming straight into a cyclist, who dove out of the way and screamed—Freaks!—at our backs as we flew off.

Finally crushing his foot with my own and thus gaining control of the vehicle, I wedge myself into a more comfortable position, somehow ending up between Kankuro's legs.

Ok.

So maybe this position wasn't the best thing ever.

"Gaara!" More wailing. "You're getting too big for this! Get off! You're crushing my man-parts!" I don't look back, just clamp white hands over my brother's and calmly guide the car, at a reckless speed, down familiar streets and allies.

"As long as certain man-parts aren't rubbing up against me, I'm fine."

"Gaara!" Kankuro's voice is a little more muffled, as the close extremity and small compartment of the car becomes evident when my forehead gets smashed against the windshield due to his wriggling, "You're sick!"

"Thank you."

"That's not a compliment!"

Swerve. Drive. Swerve.

Graze a cat who attempts to deflate the tires. Loses some claws, instead.

Swerve. Drive. Bam! Crash into a fire hydrant, though quickly drive away before anyone notices.

Kankuro moans.

Finally come to the destination. Come to a screeching halt.

"Kankuro," I demand, turning back so I can clearly see him, "get out of the car." His reply is incoherent

"What?"

"I said, I can't 'cause you're frickin' blocking my way!"

I brood.

"…you're right."

Pause.

"…then get out of the way!"

I resist the childish urge to reply "No" and stay there. However, if I did, I'd never get to where I wanted to get to. Evaluating the entire situation, I sulkily slide off of my brother and back onto the passenger seat, allowing him to finally prop open the car door and worm his way out. Letting myself out into the crisp, evening air, I quickly find my objective with my eyes, take a good hold of Kankuro's sleeve, and drag him up the sidewalk.

Slow steps—click, click, paddle, click—creak. The door opens quietly, unlocked, and the familiar floral smell wafts into our noses, into our mouths, into our brains, as we step inside. The light is dim—the scenery, unfamiliar. I have never been here after dark.

Kankuro stumbles behind me, flailing and crashing, rather unceremoniously into walls, before I reach over and flick on the light-switch. I hear voices, coming from the room, and see two figures slouching down in the chairs, one familiar, the other… a little. We've met.

Kankuro looks around nervously.

"Gaara…"

"Hn?"

"This is your shrink's place, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Gaa-gaa! Kanky! Look, Kisame, it's my friends!"

The familiar figure has come out of the dark and revealed himself to be… Uchiha Itachi. Why was he always showing up everywhere we went? Dressed formally in a dark black suit with a matching tie, his hair is pulled tightly against his head and he has a clipped look about his face, though grinning. The other man, Kisame, is hidden deeply in the shadows still, though it was light enough for me to see a… blue hand?

I takes me a while, but I finally put two and two together and realize the blue hand belonged to the blue rock-of-a-man I'd seen at the Uchiha's house not too long ago. I just never got to properly talk to him yet.

"Gaara!" Itachi is saying to me, face happy and in "insane" mode, though the suit didn't fit the rest of the act, "Gaara and Kan—Kan—Kan—Kan-something, meet my goldfish! He is my goldfish! MINE!"

I just twitch and stare at the blue-rock-thing. "We've met."

Said goldfish just looks very annoyed at being called a goldfish.

"Itachi…"

"No, no, no, no—!" The elder Uchiha scolds the blue-tinted man, who just rolls his eyes and sighs tiredly, "Not 'Itachi'! I told you to call me 'Master'! Master!"

"…yes, Master."

"Good!"

"'Master'?" I say, dubiously. Kankuro just looks blank, right hand tightly grasping my left as he hid behind me, attempting to still look brave while using his little brother as a human shield. The memory of dancing with Itachi on our DDR is still fresh on his mind.

"Yes, Master!" Itachi snaps, totally serious, "He is my goldfish and, thus, he is my possession—which then means, I am his master!"

"Oh god," mutters Kisame-goldfish, "not this again…"

Thankfully, Kami decided to be nice to us (Kankuro and I) by creating an interruption. Namely, a bushy-haired silver blurred interruption.

"KAKASHI!"

Zoom.

One silver-haired bullet darting about the room, cackling madly. One embarrassed psychiatrist without a hair tie and missing his… pants. Four innocent bystanders, three horrified and one amused.

Itachi makes a sort of noble chortle. "Pft… I always marked Umino-san as a briefs kind of guy… glad to see he proved me wrong."

"Kakashi!" Face crimson and utterly embarrassed, Kankuro and I stare as he flounders in his Mickey-Mouse boxers, stops running, and gives up. Looking at us—his patients—his face, by contrast, floods itself of all colors and turn into an unsettling shade of white.

Kakashi, who is, to say the least, a rather clever man, had hid himself in some obscure place where the only indication of his whereabouts was his little mutterings of—"Ooh, this is nice, haha…" and "These smell like Iruka…"

The mentioned psychiatrist immediately ducks into his room and joins us soon afterwards, fully clothed. He has on a rather annoyed yet embarrassed look as he greets us: "Itachi! Sorry for starting your session late; I had a bit of a run-in with Kakashi over there, he… and Gaara? What are you doing here?"

The jolt of confidence that had driven me here against the better wishes of my siblings slightly deflated.

"Wanted to visit you…" I manage to mumble, and Kankuro looks at me oddly. Ok, so maybe mumbling really wasn't something on "Gaara's List to Do". Iruka cocks his head to the side, looks as if he is considering, and then smiles reassuringly.

"Of course! Itachi!" He turns back and calls the other man, "Is it ok if we have a group therapy session today?"

The CEO just shrugs, "Sure. If it means Kisame can come in with me, I'm happy with anything." Nonchalant again, he loses the act and straightens his back, completely cool and composed. Smirking, he gestures towards his companion and together they walk into the therapy room.

I give Umino-san a look. "Is his insane-cool demeanor partially why he comes here for therapy?"

"Sort of," he admits before following Itachi's footsteps and disappears into his room. Kankuro is still staring at the doorway in which Hatake-san had disappeared into.

"Gaara…"

I give him a look.

"Was that your boss?"

"No," I answer him curtly, heading into the therapy room, "it's the Easter Bunny. Of course that was my boss. Now come on in before Umino-san decides to shut the door on us."

Being that he is my older brother and that he was totally and completely unfamiliar with the environment around him, heading with me was definitely his best choice.

He complies.

--

"—the itsy bitsy goldfish went up the water spout…"

"…Itachi…"

"—down came the rain and washed the fishy out…"

"…Itachi…"

"—up came the sun and dried up all the fish…"

"Itachi…"

"—and the itsy bitsy goldfish never-went-up-the-spout-again-'cause-he-was-dead! The end!" Itachi beams, obviously pleased with himself.

Kisame twitches. "Itachi."

"What?"

"Please do not make fun of me in front of your… friends."

I ignore the fact that Kisame had just implied that Sasuke's brother and I were, per se, "friends". Like hell we were. At least Kankuro knew the bloody truth, even if he was unwilling to spill.

"But I wasn't!" Itachi pouts, "I said it was a goldfish! Not my goldfish!"

"With you, there isn't much of a difference."

Inside the Umino-san's room, we are all wedged into a tiny space created for two, now filled with five. Being that Kisame was easily the biggest man in the room at the moment, he finally resorted to squatting down in the small space between the dark maroon coffee table and the wheezing sofas, just at the right level for Itachi to lean over and pat. Kankuro was next to me on the other sofa and Umino-san had drawn a small yellow folding chair for himself and was in-between the two groups of us.

"Alright," Umino-san calls loudly, attracting everyone's attention at once. "This is our group therapy session for today. It will last sixty minutes. The first thing that we are going to do is introduce ourselves. Include full name, age, occupation, which includes student, interests, things you want to talk about during the session and other random stuff you think is important. But those first… one, two, three… five things need to be mentioned. Got it?"

Everyone nods.

Umino-san clears his throat. "I'll go first. Hello, my name is Umino Iruka, as most of you know. I am… um… in my late twenties-early thirties. I work as a psychiatrist/psychologist and used to work as a science teacher. I'm interested in board games and Nike shoes. I want to talk about people's pasts and why they avoid them during this session."

Itachi's hand shoots up. Umino-san sighs.

"Yes, Itachi…?"

"Why do you like Nike shoes?"

"Because they're comfortable," Umino-san answers automatically, and then looks at the other man, curious. "Now, since you did raise your hand, will you give us the pleasure of introducing yourself?"

"Alright," Itachi responds coolly, suddenly business-like again, "My name is Uchiha Itachi and I am the CEO of Uchiha Corp. which sells computers and is highly competitive with our competitor, Suna Tech." He glances at me and I'm all innocent. Really. I had absolutely no idea that my father's company (or mine, for that matter, as I was supposed to inherit it anyway) had anything to do with the Uchihas. "I am in my mid-twenties and like to google random subjects to increase my already high IQ score. I also like to pretend I am insane and act like a drama king. I want to talk about my goldfish." He turns to said goldfish. "Goldfish, it is your turn."

"Yes. Alright."

"Yes, alright, master. Don't forget the master."

"Yes, master."

"Ahem." Umino-san coughs. "Go on."

Kisame looks at Itachi out of the corner of his eye and gruffly says his introduction. "Hoshigaki Kisame. Around the same age as Itachi here. Pick up some odd jobs here and there every so often. I like fish. And seafood. And big shiny swords. Yeah. Gotta love those swords. I'm just here 'cause Itachi's here."

"My goldfish loves me," Itachi chirps happily and Kisame rolls his eyes.

It was inevitable. But very stall-able. I look back at Kankuro and nudge him. He looks at me as if I am mad and nudges me back.

"You go first: no one knows you here," I whisper at him.

"You go first: you're the one that comes here three times a week!" he whispers back.

I finally throw him one of my patented "Do-what-I-say-or-you-will-have-your-testes-cut-off" glares and he breaks down.

"Ahaha…" Kankuro scratches behind his head, sheepish, "Um… hi. I'm here… 'cause my li'l brother's here. Name's Kankuro… Sabaku no Kankuro… or Sabaku Kankuro if you're a picky American professor who doesn't except random Japanese bits between one's name… like mine. I'm nineteen… go the University of California. The one really close to here. I'm a Drama Art major and work part-time at Applebee's down the street. I'm into puppets and acting… and I don't want to talk. I was dragged here. By force." He glares at me. "By him."

"Dragged here by your little brother, eh?" Itachi snickers coolly behind a gloved hand, "My, what a man you are."

"Cool it." Kankuro practically snarls, making a move as if he was seriously considering beating up the Uchiha. I make a sharp move to block him and send him a warning glare. Kankuro roughly pushes me back and turns away from me, gluing his back to the cushions on the sofa and refusing to move. Whatever. Idiotic older brothers.

Umino-san is peering at me. Is it my turn already? I hate speaking in front of large groups of people I do not know… even if the "large group of people" I am referring to right now consists of my brother, my friend's brother and his brother's boyfriend, and my psychiatrist/psychologist/therapist. It's gotten easier and more relaxed, of course, but still… it doesn't make me feel comfortable, to say the least.

"My name is Sabaku no Gaara. I'm seventeen and attend Konoha High as a junior and work part time at the music town in No Man's Market down the lane. I like music, guitars, and blondes. I'm also gay. I want to talk about family issues and its relationship to unstable emotional well-beings."

"'Unstable emotional well-beings'?" quips Kankuro, eyebrows furrowed, "What's that?"

"Your face." I say flatly and he hits me—lightly—on the shoulder. Itachi's hand shoots up again.

Umino-san rubs his temples. "Yes, Itachi?"

"Why doesn't Gaara have eyebrows?"

"I was born this way." I reply, though both Kankuro and I knew that that was a blatant lie. After Temari shaved it off after me stealing her tampons, she'd taken on a habit of shaving them off every week until I copied her and started to do it on my own. It's just something I do. Like a woman shaving her legs—I shave my eyebrows.

Kankuro just thinks I'm weird.

Umino-san clears his throat.

"Ahem. So now we've all introduced each other. I would now like to start this therapy session with a simple game of going around in a circle and sharing who is important to us and why. And don't even dare lie. This is a therapy session which is supposed to help you. Lying won't help you, so don't do it." He clears his throat again, and I start to wonder if he has a cold, like that sick-Hayate dude that was there when I got drunk. Maybe it was contagious?

"People important to me are… Kakashi, who is my boyfriend. He's protected me and I've protected him for a long time." He has a soft look in his eye—soft like butter and sweet like syrup. It makes me hungry. Hungry for love. I think Kankuro's right and I really have gone off the edge. "I also care about my clients… and I care about Naruto, who is almost like a little brother to me."

I don't look surprised, but I am. I distantly remember something about Umino-san and Naruto being close at the treatment center, but I'd never analyzed the relationship thoroughly. I cock my head left, looking at Itachi, who was next in the circle.

Itachi is all professional and expressionless, nonchalant as he faces us. Seeing his cool demeanor, I conclude that he really doesn't have the mind to lie to us. Why would he? "People I care about… are Kisame and, admittedly, Sasuke, my little bro. Kisame's been there for me when I needed him and Sasuke's just Sasuke, even if he's a little brat sometimes." He sits back, pleased at the fact that he almost revealed nothing about what he really thought about them. Umino-san looks as if he was about to force Itachi to elaborate and decides against it.

One little run-down psychiatrist against a big-name CEO of one of the finest companies of all of Konoha. Would've been interesting to see how that turned out.

Umino-san turns towards Kisame.

"And you?"

"Me? Eh… Itachi… 'cause he's my buddy." He shuts his mouth and looks as if he's finished until Itachi very roughly jabs him in the ribs. Kisame hastily reawakens and continues to speak. "He's also smart and alluring… and makes good jokes. Uh… he's also my…" He looks pained.

"Master." Itachi hisses.

"…master." Kisame sighs. "Other people I care about… I guess the whole gang, even if that bogus guy creeps me out. Dei and Sasori aren't bad people… yeah. They're my buddies." He turns toward Itachi. "Can I shut up now?"

"Yes, Kisame." The Uchiha's lips twitch in a sort of quirky smile as he reaches over and pats the rather intimidating man, "Kisame is a good goldfish!"

Umino-san signs again. I glance at Kankuro and glances at me, as if to ask me—why the hell do those two try to make this even more difficult then it already was?

My wonderful answer?

Itachi's just self-absorbed like that, alright?

Yeah, Kankuro and I share many brotherly conversations through our eyes and glances all the time. It developed rapidly during childhood because Mom and Temari would regularly gang up on us and the only way to create a plan without being seen was to create some way to plan without speaking. Thus, the looks.

By the way, Mom never did catch on to how every time he just got me, I'd suddenly disappear like that.

I mean "she". No wait… I mean "he". You know what? I should just shut up. I know I'm messed up, so let's drop the subject.

"Kankuro?"

I "totally and utterly swear" (as Neji likes to say whenever I give him my "Oh, really?" look) he practically jumped into my lap in surprise, what with Umino-san so close to his face like that with a look that said: anything to bring the session back together, so you better say something worthwhile!

He scratches the back of his head, eyes darting in the standard gotta-find-a-way-out-of-this form before finally giving up and succumbing to the inevitable. He takes one final look at me and I suddenly have the gut feeling to plug my ears and try not to hear what he has to say.

"People I care about… my family, duh. Temari's kind of bitchy sometimes, but she's my big sis, you know? Keeps me in line and makes sure I don't die of lead poisoning from eating too much paint or something. Gaara too…" He avoids my eyes. "He's kind of frightening and he's always threatening to hurt me in some way but I know he won't do that kind of stuff anymore. So I guess to care for him a lot too. Baki, also. He's like our adoptive father, but not really. He's always separated himself from us 'cause he knew he'd have to leave us after a while, but he still calls me every so often and stuff. And though I haven't seen him for years, Yashamaru's pretty important to me as well."

Yashamaru.

Yashamaru.

--you don't know? We have an Uncle! His name is… Yasha-something… you probably don't remember him…

Kankuro's avoiding my gaze like the plague. He speaks as if I should know this… Yashamaru man, but in reality I can't remember him at all. He also speaks as if it is a touchy subject… and knowing my memory, it probably is.

I'm really not that big of a fool… I think. After remembering the incidents taking place at the institute, I stopped trusting my memories. I mean, who would? If you remember something completely different but the truth is right there in your eyes—who wouldn't feel a little insecure about their thoughts?

So the whole Yashamaru remembering thing wasn't all that out of the blue. However, I plan to ignore the subject as long as possible. I don't want to go into another… shock… like last time.

Blegh. I feel like I'm thinking like a thirty-year old man. I need to loosen up and try not to over think. It feels like in the presence of Itachi, I naturally want to act more mature and adultish, to compensate for his childish masquerades. It's odd... and I know I should stop trying to size myself up against him. It's stupid and tiring and I feel like I'm gonna die of hernia right here and now.

Kankuro's looking at me funny again and I give him a cross-eyed glare. I'm particularly good at being cross-eyed. Temari says it cracks her up every time I try to give a speech being cross-eyed. Hey, it's not like I do it on purpose… most of the time.

Damn.

Okay, okay, I admit I inherited my family's cross-eyed gene. It's in my blood.

Anyways…

"…and I also care about my buddies from the University too… because they're my pals and they've been with me for like, forever. They're twins too, so it's cool." He nudges men, hissing, "Gaara."

Okay. Time for me to take the lead.

If only I wasn't so mentally exhausted, I could do this properly…

"I care about my family, like Kankuro said. Temari, who's my older sister, is someone that's just like the foundation of our life. Kankuro's… the comic relief."

"Hey!" he shouts indignantly and I ignore him.

"Baki's sort of like the authority in our household who I always challenged… he's gone now, but he was pretty important… I've got some friends at school too…" I lean forward and cup my face in my hands, staring out in the distance—beyond Itachi, who was staring at me creepily without blinking, beyond Kisame, who looked bored, behind the shades, behind the windows—trying to think up the words to fit my mouth, "Neji's, who's my best friend, is really smart and kind of cold sometimes, but if you look at him the way I do, you can he see how really girly he is. It's kind of funny… especially when he starts twitching when his boyfriend does something really stupid. Sasuke—Itachi's brother—is kind of moody and we haven't been getting along much lately, but we're friends otherwise. He and I are kind of alike, but not really… Naruto…" I look up, mouth sort of twitching, "Naruto's… kind of bratty… but otherwise, he's a good kid. He's nice… and… funny…"

"Stop, Gaara. Stop." Kankuro shakes me a little, "You've got the 'I'm-in-lurve' look on."

I give him my Glare-of-Extreme-Doom.

"…quiet."

"Eh? I was right?" Kankuro looks genuinely surprised and I glared at him harder.. Itachi flicks a piece of dust off his suit, looking amused while Umino-san just sighs, nonchalant. Did everyone in this room already know of my crush? Hell, did everyone in the entire village know of my crush?

Damn, I must be a really bad liar…

"…shut up. Just shut up or I'll screw you over."

He wrinkles his nose. "That's just sick, Gaara. Didn't think I was your type."

A murderous gleam emerges in my eye and my entire expression darkens to one of moral distaste and… scariness.

"What?"

Kankuro squeaks. "N-nothing. Nothing at all!"

"Boys, boys, calm down." Umino-san finally steps in between us, "Now, let's get on with the therapy session, alright? I understand you two are brothers, but try and keep your brotherly discussions at home."

"If we keep our 'brotherly discussions' at home," Kankuro muses dryly out loud, "Temari'd castrate us." We exchange more secretive glances. Yes, Temari resembled a raging tractor sometimes, especially if one of us (mostly Kankuro) has stolen her things. She's very self-conscious about her things.

Umino-san sighs, rubbing his temples. "Yes, that may be true, but I would like to finish this discussion, please. Now I'll let you boys—er, men," he corrected himself when he realized that three fourths of the clients in this room were over the age of eighteen, "talk amongst yourselves about the topic I present you. I'll present a new topic every time the discussion seems to die off, alright?" He gets up and rifts through some of his folders stacked about the room, finally pulling out a large sign, "I'll stick it here for now while I go hunt down Kakashi, okay? Alright. Be back in a second."

With that, he was gone.

We stare after him, and then slowly turn our gazes to the sign. Itachi chortles.

"'Pedophiles'?"

"Interesting." Kisame drawls before giving his companion a steady look, "Say, Itachi, ever thought of ever being a pedophile before?"

"A ped? Dunno…" The Uchiha scratches his chin thoughtfully, "What's the definition of a ped?" Turning around, composed, he lightly takes up the small dictionary that just so happened to be on the windowsill behind me. It just so happens that Umino-san likes to leave these things around, I guess.

Kisame looks over his shoulder, though the way his shoulders were relaxed and his nonchalant expression obviously showed that he was bored. "Pedophile," he reads aloud, "Noun. An adult sexually attracted to young children." A pause.

Finally, an answer: "No, no, Kisame, I don't think I've ever wanted to be a ped before. I mean… that's like me saying I want to be an Orochimaru."

Kisame snorts, and Kankuro and I exchange glances. The two of them knew Orochimaru? "Isn't being an Orochimaru the same as being a ped? I mean, he's seducing young fifteen year old boys at his school and he's almost sixty for god's sake. That's just…"

"...wrong." Itachi finishes, frowning. "He tried to seduce me… and my brother… and my cousin, before he died… and other people."

"He's a gay pedophile." Kankuro says flatly, playing with a piece of string slightly removed from my shirt, "He's such an old fart, it's not funny." Itachi makes a curt agreeing nod while Kisame just hides his face in his turtleneck. .

"I wonder how he gets boys to agree to have sex with him. I mean, when you get older, don't you start sagging? You know—folds of skin everywhere?"

Alright, that was unnerving. I make a slightly disgusted face and glare laser beams through Kankuro's head. He stops playing with my sleeve.

In the next twenty minutes, what first started as uncomfortable silence ended up to become—though not a lively interaction—a bustling chitchat, as it seems that every one of us had a story about pedophiles (also known as an Orochimaru, which we all agreed can be used as a synonym for the word "pedophile") to share. Itachi and Kankuro spoke the most by far, while I just vaguely commented on several topics and Kisame hardly spoke a word. All sitting comfortably in our seats on the sofas, Kankuro has (thankfully) stopped using me as a human shield and I felt good about the fact that my not-speaking-as-much is rebuilding my dying reputation. I do have a reputation… or, at least, I did. Dammit. Keeping them is so hard, sometimes.

"…there was a kid I knew once in my class… I forgot his name. Anyway, he was always kind of insecure and all his friends tried to boost his self-esteem. Now, when he met Orochimaru, the guy thought it'd be fun to try and seduce him… you know? So yeah… I caught them at it in the boy's bathroom during lunch…"

"You screamed bloody murder," Kisame murmurs and Itachi, somehow, has suddenly gotten a stranglehold around the "goldfish"s neck.

"Excuse me?"

"Grgg."

"You did not say anything, Kisame."

"Grggg—I d-did not say anything."

"Master."

"I did not say anything, master."

He gives each of us a sly, menacing look and immediately we find our mouths saying: "We did not hear anything." Damn. We exchange "I can't believe I just did that" glances at one another.

He nods.

"Good."

A pause. Itachi is often spontaneous and his… spontaneousity often caused the five of us to lapse into silence. Fortunately, Kami has blessed us with another miracle as Umino-san comes back and interrupts the stiffening silence. Well, it's more accurate to say that Hatake-san interrupts the silence.

"But Iruka—!"

"Hn!"

"Iruka—!"

"Shush!"

"But—!"

"Snap that mouth of yours tight you perverted freak and sit over there until I tell you can go!"

Hatake-san very dramatically drags his body across the carpeted floor, slithering to the same armchair Umino-san had been sitting in when he'd goosed in last time. "Iruka…" he moans, covering his face with the back of his hand, "I hate time-out! What if I need to go potty?"

"Then hold it!" the irritated psychiatrist snarls back.

Kankuro, Itachi, Kisame and I are watching the little show with much interest. Hatake-san stops bemoaning and slyly looks at our beloved Umino-san with a… certain type of look. "I can hold it for some time, but I can't hold that as long as you're in this room… sensei."

Umino-san twitches. "I thought a pervert like you'd be able to come up with a better pick-up line." Itachi and Kisame exchange looks, Kisame rolling his eyes and Itachi with a spark in his eye, before the Uchiha Corp CEO reaches over and picks up the "pedophile" sign.

"Hey, Kakashi," Itachi addresses the other man loosely, "are you an Orochimaru?"

Umino-san looks enraged that someone (even if was his own client) had interrupted his and his boyfriend's little spat, but Hatake-san actually seems to ponder this for a moment. "Weeeeell…" he taps his chin dramatically, purposeful as he turns his back to his seething lover, "You don't want them too big, you know? Otherwise they'd try and dominate… little ones are easier too, because they're all innocent and they stare at you with those wonderful eyes as you straddle them." Umino-san's face turns red with anger as Hatake-san keeps blathering, "Also, they're so soft, like a woman, unlike adults who are hard and muscular and altogether unappealing. Plus, they come with great sound effects!"

He turns around and faces the now twitching, red-faced psychiatrist, who has suddenly gotten a certain gleam in his eye. He acts innocent. "…what?"

Umino-san loses it. "HATAKE KAKASHI!" he shrieks shrilly, grabbing the nearest object (a beige pillow) and colliding it hard with Hatake-san's face, "YOU SICK PERVERT! Augh! How dare you say such things in front of my clients?! GO AWAY! LEAVE! That's right! AND DON'T TOUCH MY PANTS!"

The silver-haired man flees. Umino-san very shakily flops into his armchair, where he buries his head into the armrest and moans.

Itachi looks amused, putting down the "pedophile" sign. "We feel your pain, Iruka." he says sympathetically, and we all nod. I don't know what Kankuro's nodding for because he's never had a serious relationship in his life (at least, not that I know of), but he was nodding anyway… probably because we were all nodding too. Yes. It was the "majority rules" feeling that we all know and despise.

"Umino-san," I say, quietly, "do you want to continue speaking about topics?"

"No." Itachi and Kankuro say at the same time, and Umino-san looks up.

"Yes, that didn't work very well, did it? Damn, we've only got twenty minutes left, right? Well… I guess if you really want to cut to the chase, we'll have each of us talk about a traumatic event happened in your life. I mean, your most traumatic event. I won't speak about mine because we have to cut to the chase. And no, Itachi, I will not allow you enough stalling time to slither out of this. You go first."

Itachi's face suddenly hardens into one of cold disliking, before morphing back into one of stoic cool. He crosses his legs in a masculine manner (as in not a full cross, unlike Umino-san or even Sasuke) and held his chin up high. He takes one look at Umino-san.

"You know I don't often talk about traumatic events because it's very, very long, correct? Also, I'm not very personal about these things. I don't mind speaking them aloud." Umino-san just waves a hand.

"No, no, it's quite alright. Come on, Itachi, speak."

Itachi twitches, before opening his mouth.

"The most traumatic event even that happened in my life happened when I was around eighteen years old… it was then I had a dispute with my father over the inheritance of Uchiha Corps. I'd never approved of my father's way of handling things—he thought that talent and skill were best honed under severe pressure and mental abuse, where he would continuously compare us—the Uchiha brothers—against other people's children. He had claimed that I was strong, but not 'strong enough' to succeed the Uchihas. To him, "strong enough" meant being just like him: abusive and comparative and all that crap. That morning, he'd decided that he'd let my little brother inherit the company instead." He took a relaxing breath, and Kisame looks up at his companion worriedly. Kankuro and I listen in—more on the Uchihas' past! Yay! If I was some sort of gossiping nutcase like a certain Haruno girl, I'd be ecstatic to tell the first person I could find.

I wasn't like that, though. What I hear is what I hear, and I won't talk about it unless the person I am talking to already knows about it… like this. I wonder if Sasuke knew about this. If he didn't, I'll tell him—it was something he probably deserved to know anyways.

Yeah, I'm a hypocrite. I think I had that rubbed in my face more often then I would have liked.

"So I got kind of pissed off, you know? I mean, I didn't want Sasuke to be raised in such a suffocating atmosphere, even more suffocating I didn't want to stay there either—Sasuke was about eight at the time—and I knew I had to leave. So I packed up my stuff and went, with much disapproval from the Uchiha Corps." His lips twitched. "They were so mad, they disowned me and me, them. They stopped supporting my college funds but, thankfully, both my grandparents from both sides had given me a rather large sum of money for my birthday before my disowning, which I used to pay my tuition. I still remember where I first started working. Do you remember where I first started working, Kisame?"

The blue-skinned man grunts a little, the touch of a smiling pulling at his thin lips. "…McDonalds."

I raise an eyebrow. Even I hadn't worked at McDonalds… of course, Naruto, who has worked there, insists that working there is actually pretty hard and that we should appreciate the fact that McDonald's is practically open twenty-four seven. He also says that McDonalds is a teenage slave camp.

Umino-san is quiet, staring at the Uchiha with large chocolate-colored eyes. At first, when I commented on his lack of a notebook, I'd really thought he just didn't care. As I look at him harder, though, I realize it must be because Umino-san just might have a really good memory. Unlike me, whose memory is so selective even I couldn't trust myself anymore.

Hmph.

"Yes, I worked at McDonalds… damn deep fry. I think I still have blotches where the oil splashed me…"

"When you hung out with the guys, you'd always smell like oil," Kisame murmurs, "I remember Dei asking if he could eat you once."

"You know what, goldfish? Shut up." A menacing glare and Kisame is back to hiding behind his turtleneck, "Anyway… I eventually quit and started working at a small computer company due to my experience and blah. I went back and had some huge legal battles for my little brother. I didn't want him growing up in the same environment as me, you know? I needed to get him out of there as soon as possible, so Father couldn't brainwash him or abuse him either. Long story short, I got him in the end and we lived in that an apartment-condo for five years. Then…" he looks up, "my family died in a fire. We moved into the main house after that and I became the CEO of Uchiha Corps. There. End of story."

Kankuro and I mock clap. Itachi makes a small bowing motion before moving back to lean against his seat.

Umino-san sighs. "Itachi… I wanted you tell me one traumatic incident, not your whole life story."

"That was a traumatic incident. It was the traumatic incident of how I, Uchiha Itachi, got to be what I am now." Even Kisame looks at the younger man worriedly and Itachi replies with a steely glare.

Umino-san sighs. "Now we only have ten minutes. Great. Only one more person can go… and who will it be?"

A pregnant pause. I carefully observe the other three while they observe each other. Umino-san then points at Kankuro.

"You! Go! Now!"

"Eh?" Kankuro jumps back, looking terrified. "Uh…"

"You're wasting precious time, Kankuro." I say softly, "You better talk fast."

"Uh—!"

"Go!"

"Um…"

We all wait as my brother attempts to collect scattered words. I jab him in the ribs and he immediately begins speaking: "Uh… most traumatic thing… eh-heh, um… well… probably, when I w-was… uh, how old was I? Oh, eight. Well, this wouldn't make much sense without some background… uh, I hope my little brother won't kill me for this… 'cause it's his past too… um. Let's see… what happens is, my father is—was the owner of Suna Tech… but he wasn't exactly a good father either. When Mother was still pregnant with Gaara, he beat her endlessly. Mother was very weak after she gave birth to Gaara… with the hospital's help, she was still alive after the birth, however. Father couldn't stand the sight of us, though, and sent us—Temari, Kankuro, Gaara, Mother, Uncle Yashamaru and Baki—to the slums to live…"

Wait, was this about the Yashamaru guy too? I remain silent. Why couldn't I seem to remember him?

"Sending us to the slums cut off Mother's medical health. She was always in bed and always at home while Uncle Yashamaru and Baki took care of us. She was deteriorating rapidly and one day, when I was four and Gaara was two, she died. But—" he holds up a finger, "that's not the traumatizing part."

"You better hurry," I murmur. "Six minutes left."

He shoots me a half-hearted glare (I can so totally glare better then he can) before continuing, "So Mother was dead and Uncle Yashamaru had a hard time comforting Temari, who was in hysterics. Baki was also in hysterics but he locked himself in his room so Uncle Yashamaru couldn't comfort him too. After that, you can see how much Uncle Yashamaru was trying to keep us all together…" he pauses for effect, but keeps going when we all give him the we-do-not-have-time-for-this-now-talk look.

"I don't know… Gaara was always very attached to him. You see, Uncle Yashamaru was Mother's fraternal twin brother… but even so, they looked almost exactly alike. When Gaara was little, he couldn't distinguish them very well… in the end, they were both 'Mother' and 'Mom' until Mother died and all that was left was Uncle Yashamaru…"

I stare at him harder, brain reworking.

"…sometimes, I don't even know if Gaara knew that Mother had died. It was like—there were two mothers, at first, but Gaara might have thought them one, and when one died, it didn't look as if anything was wrong…" he stops and took a breath, "Father had taught Gaara from when he was young how to kill… it was something abusive and wrong. He'd beat if he didn't do anything right. Father also attempted to manipulate Uncle Yashamaru because he had the most influence out of all of is… he abused both of them—I remember, sitting in my room as Uncle Yashamaru would sob as he listened to my father over the phone… he'd sit in the kitchen crying and even Gaara didn't want to go near him…"

He pauses again, "In the end… he snapped. They both snapped. Oh, god. I still remember. Coming back from school with Temari, talking about our homework, and then opening the front door—"

Stop.

I know this. I know what happens… again, the memory flashes. The same memory that had repeated itself over and over again in my mind… the same memory that lead me to be strapped down onto a bed in a treatment center refusing to talk or eat or do anything. And yet… it's different. More accurate. Everything is accurate. I even remember what I had done—every move I had made, the horrified looks on my siblings faces—

Again, I am standing. The room is dark—the lights turned off. No, wait—the light bulb was smashed against the blood-ridden walls. Oh goody.

The stench is rancid; my siblings are standing at the doorway, eyes wide, Temari screaming so loud my ears ring. They ring and ring and ring, and I remember staring at her—empty and cold—and pointing my butcher knife in her direction. She snaps her mouth shut as she sees the blood. The sickening blood, everywhere. I don't know in my memory but I know now.

I killed him.

I killed him, I killed him, I killed him—I killed both of them, oh lord. I killed my mother. Both mothers.

I stare at him in horror, chest aching as the blood on my forehead drips down into my mouth. I sputter, look around—the walls were crimson as was the ceiling. I am in no pain, and yet I am—the dizzying feeling is nauseating, his words ringing in my ear.

I look at Mother's outstretched hand, still clenching what he was holding right before his death. Right before he had whispered those horrendous words to me, before losing that gleam in his eye.

His hands were clenching shards of broken glass.

Oh lord. Kankuro was shouting now, too, as was Temari—"Gaara! Gaara! Gaara, what'd you do?"

I am dazed. Hurt. Trying to find ground when there was none—none in this darkness which swirled in my mind, the wonderful dark. Dark and blood. Yes…

I remember how this all started. Me, making a peanut-butter jelly sandwich at the kitchen counter, standing on my tiptoes because I wasn't tall enough to comfortably reach. Taking the knife and carefully dabbing it into the jelly, swish-swash, swish-swash. Proud that I could make something like this—Mother had just taught me Yesterday.

The footsteps are so silent, I almost didn't hear them until too late. There was a slight shadow and…

A loud crash. Splintering glass, everywhere. I had fallen onto the tile just in time and was now looking at Uncle Yashamaru, who had just slammed the wine bottle he had been holding onto the countertop.

Right where my head had been.

"—we screamed for several minutes before Gaara looked at us. It was real scary, you know… it was like, it was him but not him at the same time. It wasn't the same little brother I had played with in the backyard or tricked into stealing from Temari's room or anything like that… the way he looked at you… it was like he was soulless or something, it was that scary. We were too scared to move, and Gaara just squatted there, rocking on the balls of his feet mumbling to himself over Uncle Yashamaru's body. Baki came soon after, saw what happened, and quickly called my father, who came and 'cleaned' the whole mess up… so yeah. That is my traumatizing event…"

Everyone stares at him, not acknowledging the fact that I was now clenching the sofa cover in a way that might have broken an arm or two. Staring out the window, I calm myself down. Calm. Relax. I was over this—that's why, after all these years, I was actually sort of leading a normal life. C'mon. Calm. I can do this. I handle it. I'm not as weak of a boy as I was before—now, I can deal with it.

I can deal with it.

--

Author's Notes: OMG I AM SOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY! (bows head) I checked my last update date and it was TWO MONTHS AGO! OO I didn't know time had flown by so quick! Just to let you know, I had been working on this update for two months... however, it was one of those write-a-scene-and-then-throw-it-out things, so I actually wrote a lot but kept on deleting stuff, so it took me a long time. I also know that Gaara's personality and stuff got switched around AGAIN (bows head again) but I'm trying to get him to connect a little more with his past Gaara. So... yeah.

Anyways, I thank all my reviewers! You guys dwindled down after a while, probably because I wasn't updating/at the top of the list (hahaha) but otherwise, thanks! Also... I KNOW THIS IS BORING! Do not flame... everything gets more serious towards the end (now) and hopefully I wrapped up some stuff with Yashamaru and Itachi.

More wrapping up next chapter, where Sasuke makes ANOTHER APPEARANCE! Yay Sasuke! Also, shameless I know, but it's VOTING TIME! How many people vote that Sasuke gets together Sakura? Please raise your hand (cough)leaveareview(cough). Okay. Now how many people vote that Sasuke hates Sakura and dumps her? Raise your hand again! Now, how many people want Sasuke to get together with some other person? If you choose the third option, please leave a suggested name! But it cannot be a person that is paired up with in the story (pairings so far: Shikatem, Nejilee, ItaKisa, KibaHina, Gaanaru DUH).

Okay! This will help me with Sasuke next chapter. Thanks! (For reading all eighteen chapters -)