Chapter III:

A Sticky Situation

Temari dropped her pack.

"Gaara," she called sternly, but Gaara didn't want to hear it.

"Keep moving," he said, leaving no room for argument.

"You can't push yourself so hard. You need to rest," she argued anyway.

Gaara peered up at the orange sunset.

Oh, omnipotent powers… where have you gone? Daddy needs you!

"I think we should make camp here," she suggested rather forcefully.

IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!! Uuuuuurrrrgghhhh!!!

Gaara sniffed haughtily then made an exaggerated display of shouldering his pack as he continued to move forward. To his displeasure, it didn't have the same effect it usually had because one, it was just a bag – not a gourd - and two, the bag his sister was carrying was three times as big as his.

Temari merely rolled her eyes at him. Gaara felt the last remnants of his manhood dwindle.

By nightfall, they reached the middle of River Country. That may sound impressive to considering Gaara's condition a few days prior to their departure, but that was maybe about a week ago. They were five days into their slow journey into Konoha and they only just reached the halfway point. My god, this was taking forever.

It felt stupid walking through the desert with an umbrella over his head. Sure, it blocked out the sun and kept him from dying prematurely of heatstroke, but Gaara felt unusually self-conscious as a sick person and it made him look like an idiot.

"Catch any drops out here, son?" mocked a passing scout as they were leaving the front gates of Sunagakure.

Thank god for these disguises, or Gaara would have less to worry about heatstroke and more about his increasing interest in committing suicide. He thought about all the things he might have liked to say or do to the scout if he didn't have to keep his own departure under wraps.

Wraps… With all the cloth and bandages hiding his face, he must have resembled a walking mummy.

…

Heh. Or Baki's mother!

Gaara made sure he'd try that one as soon has he got ba-

He stopped to stare at his toes in contemplation. Oh.

"-ack."

"You say something, Gaara?" asked Temari. To her credit, she had already built a fire and was now pulling out their bedrolls.

Gaara plopped down on one of the bedrolls before she was even done unfurling it.

Temari frowned, her hands still grasping the corners. "Can't you wait until I'm done?"

Gaara lay down.

"Urgh. Could you be anymore like a baby?"

Should I suck my thumb? Gaara examined the dust underneath his right thumb and deemed it unsuckable. How about his left?

Temari threw her hands up in the air.

"Fine, whatever. But I'll have you know that I'd even take the old Gaara over the whiney little pussy this disease has turned you into," she declared as she prepared her own bedroll perpendicular to his.

Aaah, me too, me too, thought Gaara dreamily while struggling to hold back the sudden painful itch in the back of his throat.

As soon as Gaara started coughing, Temari dropped down beside him, holding him steady by his shoulders. He was mostly coughing into his tan-colored scarf, his hand clasped over his mouth to keep the black blood from running into his other clothes.

And Temari just held him there, her overwhelming sadness written in her eyes and all over her face.

"I take it back," she said. "I take it back. I don't prefer the old you over you right now."

When Temari felt his body settle, his chest no longer rattling, her hands came around his chest as she hugged him from behind.

"I just want both of my brothers to be okay. I want you to stay with me," she pleaded.

Gaara woke up in the middle of the night.

It's hot.

Sitting up, he threw off the wool blanket to cool off in the night air. His neck and face were plastered with sweat thanks to the bandages and cloth wrapped around his face, but Baki has strictly forbidden him from removing them until he was safe in Konoha. Grumbling, he removed his scarf and pulled at the chain hang around his neck.

It was Kankuro's necklace, the familiar red and yellow circle of his shirt now dangled as a stone pendant around Gaara's neck. Gaara remembered seeing Kankuro making it. He also remembered calling it tacky so Kankuro never wore it. It didn't make sense to him since most of Kankuro's things were quite tacky or macabre anyway, but perhaps Kankuro really did value his opinion.

Gaara unclasped the chain the polished the stone with his shirt. He was about to put it back on but decided against it and put it in his pocket instead. It was just going to get dirty again and it was starting to chafe his neck.

Temari stirred in her sleep. She was propped against a tree, her head hanging uncomfortably low near her chest.

Gaara got up slowly and crawled over to his sister. Bending down, he turned her head to the side so that her head rested against her iron fan. Temari hadn't slept well in weeks and her neck was going to hurt tomorrow if her head hung that way overnight.

Turning away, he walked over to his pack to retrieve his canteen. The night air was cool, but Gaara's skin felt hot and sweaty. He took a few large gulps from his canteen and dumped the rest over his head. There wasn't much left anyway. He grabbed Temari's canteen and made his way down to a nearby stream.

It was probably a bad idea to go out by himself in his condition, but he couldn't remember the last time he was able to wander off on his own. Although he knew she had good intentions, Gaara couldn't help but feel suffocated under his sister's fastidious care.

Whatever, it was fine. He always kept a kunai in his pocket and he'd been practicing his taijutsu whenever he could. As long as he kept his face covered, no one would think to attack a passing civilian. Hopefully.

Further down the stream, Gaara climbed down the rocky debris and found a good rock to perch on by the stream. He washed his hands in the cold water and took his time refilling the canteens. Feeling awfully sticky, he pulled off his headdress and dunked it into the stream, wringing water into his dark red hair. He hadn't removed the bandages around his face, but knowing that his signature hair color might give him away, he quickly pulled the cloth over his head. Temari might question him later about his wet hair later, but he was willing to put up with that – and the migraines that were sure to come – if it meant he didn't have to smell his sweaty hair the entire trip.

Picking up his canteens, Gaara turned to leave when he heard footsteps above him. Ducking behind a curtain of undergrowth, Gaara used his well-honed stealth to hide his presence. He remained absolutely still as he heard the footsteps right above him. Gaara guessed there were about four of them; two in front, one in the back…

And one standing right above him.

"Why'd you stop, Sasuke?" asked one of them.

Gaara lost his breath.

Ah, motherfucker!

A/N: I took a year off to see what was going on with the manga. As it turns out, it totally threw me off my original plan, but I've decided to stick with it and not make any changes. Until next time!