Chapter Two: Ties that Bind

Gaara stepped onto the upper balcony of the Kazekage's mansion that had passed from his father's hands to his — the mansion he shared with Temari and Kankuro. Once his father had reassessed Gaara's value to the village, the Fourth Kazekage had taken him into this home, and once their father had been killed by Orochimaru, Gaara and his siblings had been allowed to remain there until the Fifth Kazekage was named. Now, the mansion was securely in Gaara's possession.

From the balcony, Gaara had a beautiful view of the desert sunset. Crimson rays highlighted the domed house roofs and caused the city parapets to glow, and in the distance, the sun also tinted the mountains, crowning them with a scarlet halo. Distantly, Gaara could hear the excited cries and laughter of children. The scene was peaceful and invited him to relax in the cool evening breeze.

However, he couldn't relax. He knew the time was quickly approaching that he would have to sleep whether he wanted to or not, and with all his paperwork finished, he had no task that could excuse him from trying. What was more, he wanted to discuss sleeping and dreaming with Kankuro in more detail, but his brother had been away all day on a spying mission.

Away on a mission . . . Gaara frowned, realizing for the first time that if Kankuro failed to return from a mission, if he died —

Gaara's heart ached, and he pressed his hands to his temples in a gesture remnant of his days fighting Shukaku's attacks. In his mind's eye, he saw Kankuro smiling, the grin underscored by his purple face paint. Once again, he heard his brother's surprising words after he'd been revived from death: "You're a little brother I'll always have to worry about, huh?" He'd been unsure how to even react; Kankuro had been worried for him? It was something Gaara had always dreamed could be true but never imagined would happen. "Don't die on me," he muttered without thinking, not wanting to lose such a precious opportunity.

"What was that?" asked a voice behind him.

Gaara dropped his hands and glanced over his shoulder, shocked that anyone had managed to sneak up on him. "Kankuro?"

His brother stood in the doorway, but at Gaara's exclamation, he stepped onto the balcony. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to startle you. You must've been deep in thought." He gestured at the younger boy's head. "Or do you have a headache? I saw you clutching your head."

Gaara turned away and gazed back at the sunset. "No. Just deep in thought, as you said."

An awkward pause followed, and Gaara knew his brother sensed his evasion.

Kankuro stepped up beside him and leaned his elbows on the railing. "So, did you try to sleep last night?"

Gaara frowned. "I didn't finish the paperwork until this evening."

"I knew you'd say that." Kankuro smiled, clearly amused. "Really, though, I promise sleep isn't bad."

Gaara shrugged. "I'm not worried about sleeping." I'm worried about dreaming. I don't want to be forced to live through those memories over and over.

Kankuro straightened and grabbed Gaara's shoulders, slowly turning him toward him. "Hey, it's all right. I know — it's more about dreaming. But I just don't want you to put it off too long and exhaust yourself."

His brother's show of concern made Gaara feel oddly warm, and not understanding the feeling, he wouldn't meet his brother's gaze. He stared at the cat ears on his hood instead. "You don't have to worry about me, you know." However, dead silence met this proclamation, and Gaara snapped his attention to Kankuro's face to see what was wrong.

Kankuro frowned. "Of course I have to worry about you. I'm supposed to. It's not a problem."

Gaara blinked, mystified. Worry was normal? How strange, he thought. Does this mean that preemptive fear is connected to wanting to protect someone? He didn't feel such fear for the village; he simply knew he had to protect it at any cost. "Why do you have to worry about me?"

Hesitating momentarily, Kankuro grasped Gaara's hand, turning it over as he did. With his free hand, he pointed to the blue blood vessels visible in Gaara's wrist. "Do you see these veins?"

Gaara stared at his pale hand in Kankuro's tanned one, and to his surprise, his heart hurt at the warm touch. He blinked and forced himself to focus on his veins. "Yes."

"This blood in your veins is also in mine." Kankuro turned over his own wrist to expose his veins. "We're the same blood, the same flesh."

Gaara looked up and met Kankuro's gaze, stunned by the passion in his brother's voice.

"I don't care that our father separated us when you were born," Kankuro continued. "And although things were weird when we were kids, I totally stopped caring that you had bijuu sealed inside you. I also don't care that you once told me that you don't consider me your brother. It doesn't matter." He paused, looking faintly embarrassed, and looked away. "You're my little brother," he said in a quiet voice, "so I'll always be concerned about you."

More pain shot through Gaara's chest, crushing his lungs until he couldn't breathe. Just as he had as a child, he unconsciously raised his free hand and covered his heart — the one part of himself he could identify as wounded. Kankuro never spoke to him this openly, never shared his feelings so bluntly — not on topics like this. But now . . . I said such hateful things to him in the past, yet he says he'll always care for me.

Gaara's gaze fell to his hand, which Kankuro still held, and he focused on his exposed wrist. The blue veins wavered slightly in his sight, and he realized tears stood in his eyes. Horrified at this uncharacteristic show of emotion, he quickly held the tears back. "I apologize for saying that to you. Back then, I —"

Kankuro looked back at him. "I know," he said, squeezing his hand. "You went and changed on me, and all for the better. I'm glad you found something to believe in. That's enough. You don't have to apologize for the person you used to be."

But Gaara wanted to apologize. He wanted his brother to know how sorry he was for treating him cruelly for so many years; he wanted Kankuro and Temari both to know it. He wanted to tell Kankuro that he did consider him his brother now, that he wanted him as a brother. However, his chest burnt with such pain that his throat constricted, and no words would come. Where do I even begin? he wondered. How do I begin to explain all of this?

Gaara heard Kankuro exhale softly and make a sound like "Hn," but he wasn't sure what that meant. Was he just reacting to some internal thought?

Kankuro stepped closer, pulling on Gaara's wrist as he did. Gaara stumbled slightly and glanced up in surprise, trying to determine Kankuro's intention. Kankuro reached toward him with his other hand, but he abruptly halted mid-motion and blushed.

"Uh . . . sorry." He patted Gaara on the shoulder and released his hand. He looked toward the setting sun and tugged at his uniform, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to — Well, I mean I was just trying to say that it's all right."

Gaara felt cold when Kankuro released him, almost as though he'd lost something. The sensation jarred him. "Thank you."

Kankuro glanced back at him and smiled, but Gaara saw sadness in his eyes. Sadness? Gaara wondered. Did I somehow manage to hurt him again? Please, no.

Kankuro stepped back. "Hey, no problem. Now just promise me you'll seriously consider sleeping tonight."

"I'll think about it." Gaara felt colder and colder. He didn't want Kankuro to leave; he knew they needed to say something more to one another. However, he didn't know what those words would be, and he couldn't think of any other reason to delay his brother's departure.

Kankuro nodded. "Good. If you have any problems, feel free to seek me out. I can't imagine having to learn how to sleep and dream." He shrugged one shoulder. "But, hey, I've been dreaming my whole life, so I'm sure I can handle anything that happens."

Gaara felt some relief at those words. "Of course."

Kankuro nodded once more then left. Gaara stared at his back as he walked away and almost called out after him.

Almost.

However, Kankuro didn't need him and his odd problems, Gaara knew. Kankuro had a life of his own, and Gaara as Kazekage had to face situations by himself. Alone. That's what power meant, regardless of its type. Being at the top always meant being isolated, even if people did need him now. Gaara had realized that Naruto's strength came from having people to care about and protect, but after feeling the need to call out to Kankuro, Gaara wondered if part of Naruto's strength also came from having people who cared about him. Unfortunately, Naruto was not present to be questioned, so Gaara turned away from the sunset and walked inside to face the night alone.

Kankuro escaped to his workshop, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. Puppet after puppet hung along the left wall, and tools hung on the right. Wooden recreations of people, monsters, and animals gazed down at him with lifeless eyes, and the newest puppet, the wolf, stared at him from the worktable.

He stared back at the wolf and took a deep breath, trying to ease his pain. His arms absolutely ached with the need to hug Gaara. Seeing Gaara hurting and near tears had nearly ripped Kankuro's heart out through his ribs. He had wanted to pull his younger brother into his arms, hold him against his chest, and rub his back until he felt better. After years of wanting to either flee from Gaara or beat him to a pulp, now Kankuro suddenly felt the desire to comfort him, protect him, be everything to him that both an older brother and father could be. Now that his younger brother had worked so hard to change, Kankuro wanted to fill the hole in Gaara's life — the hole that only Naruto truly understood yet blood could help heal.

But he couldn't. Kankuro had started to hug him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Gaara was so stoic, so . . . He radiated a sense of aloofness and impermeability that demanded that people honor his personal space. His aura of confidence, of power, commanded respect and forced others to stand back. Kankuro wasn't sure Gaara wanted to be hugged, that Gaara would want his personal space violated or would appreciate being protected. The Fifth Kazekage did not need protecting: he hadn't needed it in the past, and he didn't even need it now while he recovered from Shukaku's loss.

He doesn't want me to baby him, Kankuro told himself roughly. He clenched his fists and bowed his head. I'm his older brother, but he doesn't really need me. I'll stand by him anyway, but he — he wouldn't want anyone to touch him. He doesn't need my comfort. He respects my skills as a shinobi, and he'll fight by my side now. But —

Kankuro sighed and walked over to his worktable. Once again, he sat down, picked up sandpaper and the wolf, and began sanding the puppet's back. He needed to think rationally; he needed to calm down. "I am technically Gaara's subject," he explained to the wolf. To himself. "I have to treat him with respect. He sees it as his job to protect me since I'm a member of this village, not the other way around. It's my duty to support him and his position. I can't be —"

Unable to contain his irritation, Kankuro threw down the wolf and stood abruptly, sending his stool skidding backwards. "But I'm his older brother!" he yelled at the nameless, faceless people he imagined would admonish him. Rules. Duty. Structure. Society. It was unfair to restrict him that way. The position of Kazekage be damned; blood was blood.

Kankuro sank to the floor and sat on his haunches. "I'm your older brother," he whispered to the young man who couldn't hear him. "I want to protect you."

Kankuro rubbed his hands against his face in frustration, accidentally smearing his face paint in the process. He sighed and let his hands fall to the ground. In the dim lighting of the room, the purple paint looked like splotches of blood on his fingers. Can I reach out to you? Will you let me?

Let me be the one . . .

A/N: Once again, thank you to anyone who reads and/or reviews and to all the people who commented on or faved chapter one. I realize the concept of Gaara trying to sleep for the first time is not a new one, but the point of this story is not to be unique but rather to focus on the bond of two brothers during a tense situation.