A/N: Second and last part of the transition chapters.

Chapter Eight

No We need to talk, no foreplay. No fancy dinner. Just their usual Sunday, her and Shikamaru sitting on their usual spot on their usual hill. A bird sang, somewhere in the surrounding forest. The world continued to turn while Temari's shattered into tiny pieces.

For a long while, they were silent.

"Are you messing with me?" Shikamaru finally demanded. His hands were gripping the soil beneath him tightly, fingers curling into warm grass and earth. "Because I don't think this is funny."

Temari suppressed the desperate urge to laugh and tell him it had been a joke. Pushing through her hysteria she continued on, knowing she'd fail if she just stopped to think for even a second. And she had thought this through already, she'd done nothing but thinking for the past months. At least, it felt that way. She always came to the same conclusion: it was the only way.

"There is no future for us." Each word felt like barbed wire in her throat. "You can't leave here, I can't leave Suna. We only see each other for short periods. It can't continue on that way. One day you'll want a woman who is there at home when you come back, and I want a husband who is there to put our children to bed at night. I can't be that woman for you and you can't be that man for me, so let's stop it here as long as we still have good memories of our time. It is better that way."

"Better?" Shikamaru repeated, incredulity lacing his face, his gestures and his words. She had rarely seen that amount of emotions on his face – it almost scared her. "Are you kidding me? Did I do something wrong? Why are you saying this now? Aren't we fine?" His eyes filled with terror. "What happened, Temari?"

"Nothing." She blinked and looked the other direction. "I've been thinking this over. I don't see another way. You won't, either, once you thought it over yourself."

"How long has this been going on? Why haven't you ever talked to me about this? Temari, I know our relationship isn't perfect but that's no reason to break it off! We could work something out-"

"And how? And what?" She interrupted him, unable to sit down any longer. She gazed down at him, now standing, and found all her own feelings mirrored in his eyes. "Maybe there is a way. Maybe we could make this work out for two more years, or even three. But I cannot do this, Shikamaru. I cannot live in between bits and moments, always waiting for the next mission to Leaf, or for you being sent to Sand. I can't wait for those short weeks that are perfect and then go back to the place I love that seems empty because the person I love is not there and never will be!" It broke from her like a river that had been freed from the dam that had been holding it back for far too long. Turning from him, she clenched her eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. When she thought she could control her voice again, she turned back to him. Shikamaru was still gazing at her with such disbelief and hurt her heart broke all over again.

"This is my final decision," she said, finally. "But I can understand if you want to talk it out."

Shikamaru looked at her. Temari looked back: this was the man she had spent the last five year with. The man she had loved, had laughed and argued with, the man who had taken her to places she'd always wanted to see. The man who had brought her flowers – just this once, I promise – when he knew she didn't really like them because they reminded her of how short and fragile life was. The man who had showed her his world and had made her fall in love with it even more. One of the few people who could make her burst into fits of laughter at the wrong time just because she remembered something he had said or done on a different day. The man who had driven her crazy because he'd spoken so little, because he would use the hard side of the sponge to clean her sensitive pans, who would forget to take out the trash and be late for dinner because he just had to finish the papers he was going over before calling it a night. Temari had lived with Shikamaru for five years and looking back she could not recall a time when she had wished she'd never had met him.

Shikamaru sized her up slowly. "You have thought about this." She nodded. "You wouldn't do this if you weren't completely sure it was necessary." Again, she nodded. Her nails dug into her hands painfully but the pain did not distract her from the emptiness that was filling her more and more with every word he was uttering. "You really want to go through with this. Is there anything I can say to make you reconsider?" This time, she shook her head, her eyes closed to fight the tears. Stop that, she told herself furiously. Don't cry. Don't cry.

It was the way Shikamaru would access every problem, she knew, the way he was doing now: looking at it from every angle, testing every possible way to solve it, building his own opinion. She couldn't even feel hurt at the fact that he was analyzing their five years of relationship that way: it was what she loved in him, after all.

"Temari," he said and she opened her eyes. "I love you. But it doesn't change anything, does it?"

As usual, he had come to the only possible conclusion. Temari didn't know whether to hate him or to love him for the fact that he didn't fight harder. Didn't fight for her. Of course, he had gotten it right: she would have left anyway. It made it easier and more difficult at the same time.

…

"There's a storm coming."

Temari looked up from the scroll she had been reading – or, at least, staring at for the past hour – and found herself eye to eye with her elder brother. Over their heads, the streamer that indicated the wind speed was hanging down limply, not even moving the slightest bit. The sun seemed washed-out and there was no sign of any animals – neither birds nor cats – to be seen anywhere. A dog barked in the distance, a lost, almost desperate sound. Temari, born and raised in the desert, knew the signs as well as anyone else in her family did.

Kankurou wasn't wearing the purple markings today, either. She wondered why he had started to go without them – did it have any deeper meaning?

"I know," she said instead. "The meteorologists have been giving out a class nine warning. Sounds like it will be rough."

"We should probably secure the falcon's habitats."

"Definitely. Talk to Yuzuriha, she's the acting head falconer."

"I know." Kankurou rolled his eyes dramatically. "No need to lecture me."

"I'm not!" Temari said, bristling. "It's just information! If you feel lectured you should wonder whether-"

"I get it, I get it. Sorry I mentioned it." Kankurou's usually argument-loving character was quite capable of agreeing complacently – and apologizing – when he thought it necessary. For a second Temari stared at her brother and tried to recall the times when he had been the arrogant, over-confident boy who had always thrown himself into a brawl head-first the last time and drew a blank. It seemed like Kankurou, too, had changed. Hadn't she noticed it, engrossed in her own world, or had she taken it for granted?

"What?" He asked and there was a hint of his old impatience in his voice. "You're staring, Temari. I already apologized."

"I know," she said. "It's just… When did you grow up?"

Kankurou frowned, looking down at her. "You know I am fifteen months and seven days older than you, don't you?"

Temari stifled a giggle. Now he sounded exactly like himself again. "Yeah, but boys grow up later than girls, everyone knows that."

"Ahhh," he sighed. "That again. Men."

She hadn't wanted to breach the topic, actually, but with Kankurou vocalizing the one word in that way everything came rushing back. She managed a weak laugh.

"Yeah. Men."

He sobered up immediately. "Sorry, Temari. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"Stop apologizing, idiot, otherwise I'll take it you're making fun of me."

She turned away from the village, faced the desert and tried to bring back her composure. It had been two months since her break-up and it still hurt to think of Shikamaru. But sometimes she found herself going an entire day without thinking of him, sometimes even a few more days, and it gave her hope. Of course, there always were the days when everything seemed to remind her of him, days when she wanted to bury herself in her room and not come out – ever. On those days Kankurou bribed her with food, or Gaara needed her help with a certain, special problem. And even knowing her siblings were manipulating her Temari didn't mind. At least not too much.

"So what now?" Kankurou asked her back some time later.

Temari shrugged and spun around. "I guess there won't be the usual evening sparring round outside today. How boring. I could catch up on some reading, I guess…"

"Hey." Her brother grabbed her arm. "Temari, let's have a movie night."

She stopped to glance at him, suspicious. Her brother being nice usually meant there was something… "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing." Kankurou grinned at her, the smile she knew so well, his eyes sparkling. "We haven't done anything like that since… I don't know. Let's have some family time."

"Oh yeah?" She crossed her arms. "The last time Gaara let the pizza burn – I beg you, who is able to burn perfectly simple pizza? – and you and I argued over the movie we wanted to watch and then Gaara was pissed off and refused to stay and you broke my table."

"You broke down my door," he reminded her. "One hell of suppressed violent tendencies, sis."

"Never mind." She waved this aside impatiently. "I'm just saying. We can hardly agree on anything, aside from politics, you really want to go ahead and try this another time?"

"Why not? As a token of my good will, I'll let you choose the movie. As long as you prepare the pizza this time, of course."

Temari stood still, looking at her brother. They could have been twins for all they were, they had been together since she could remember. Fifteen months apart but their hearts had always been closer than if they had been actual twins. And despite their different opinions and arguments, she did love him a lot.

"Come on, Temari," Kankurou all but whined. "Gaara needs a break. He's been working non-stop for the past few months. Let's have a nice, quiet evening so he can relax, too." His words were serious. The grin, though, was fixed on his face: the bastard knew exactly she would hardly say no when it came to Gaara.

She sighed. "Okay. But my choice of movies." Kankurou rolled his eyes and she shot him a challenging look. "What, already regretting it?"

"Whatever you want, little sister." He smiled at her, the crooked Kankurou-smile she knew so well. "I'll bring those sweet things you like so much. Naruto send some – we should be glad Nara isn't sending them anymore, we never knew what to do with them. You're the only one who actually likes them – and Gaara, of course, but he'd never admit to it."

"You're just happy you won't have to put up with him anymore." It hurt, joking like this. But somehow it hurt in a different way than it had a few weeks before. This was the way life was, she supposed: someone's heart always ended up broken. Life was no fairy-tale. But the pain was mellower, now, seemed to wait for something she couldn't yet define. It gave her an idea, faint and fragile, but growing stronger with each day: hearts could heal. Temari was strong. She would be alright, some day. At least she could tell herself so and hope it would become reality one day.

And she had her brothers.

"I'm happy I won't have to listen to Gaara rant how he's not good enough for you," Kankurou shot back, half-scared, unsure whether he had gone too far.

Two months – and tears no longer scratched at the back of her eyelids when she thought of Shikamaru. It was close, but it was a start. Temari smiled.

"I think I have to talk to him about Matsuri."

She heard Kankurou take a deep breath – half relief, half sorrow. How strange that their closeness meant that her pain was his, too.

"You are evil, Temari."

"I know." The sun was warm on her skin. Temari glanced into the sky, saw the signs of an approaching storm and felt oddly at peace. Kankurou's hand fell onto her shoulder.

"Let's go."