Sly Fox

Chapter Two: Into the Abyss

Gaara saw the cleaver before he saw the face.

He couldn't look at anything else, just the cleaver that glinted maliciously in the half-light provided by flickering lampposts.

After the figure started to get closer, Gaara's instinct to run kicked in. But he couldn't. His legs were stuck to the wet ground, as if it was quicksand, dragging him down slowly into the pits of Hell. He couldn't move. He could only stare at the cleaver clutched loosely in the figure's hand as it got closer.

Tmp.

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"My, my, what do we have here?"

The figure spoke, causing Gaara to flinch and keep his pale eyes glued to the ground. The voice was deceivingly young and masculine. Innocent, even. He couldn't be much older then Gaara himself. Memories of the news report crashed into his mind. Was this…?

"Hey now. Don't look so scared." The figure laughed, as he got closer.

Gaara looked at his feet and closed his eyes, willing it to just some twisted dream his imagination had thrown at him. After hearing the footsteps get even closer, did he banish the idea it was a dream. He wanted to run, but running would probably make this person chase after him and no doubt kill him. He couldn't move anyway. Might as well stay still and hope that this was just some drunk who had gotten his hands on a cleaver. Maybe he would just mug him then leave him alone.

Only when the figure was right in front of him, did Gaara look up. The man was taller then him by at least an inch, making him even more intimidating. When the man reached for him, Gaara instinctively took a step back, and brushed against the brick wall behind him. He was trapped.

In a flash, the man grabbed both of Gaara's wrists and squeezed them in a strange way that made both his hands and wrists numb and stinging slightly, like pins-and-needles. It hurt, and rendered his arms immobile. He wouldn't let go of his wrists, even when he wouldn't be able to escape. The man then put his cleaver away, or more like dropped it into his pocket, where it made a quite obvious bulge that would have given everything away, if only the fucking police was here.

The man's foot stomped down hard on Gaara's feet, preventing him from moving much at all. His free hand caressed his face in mock tenderness.

"Oh, you are a pretty one…" the man breathed. Gaara remained frozen. He was even more scared, now that the figure was so close. The man had no smell of alcohol on his breath. Instead, the smell of mints invaded Gaara's nose. So he wasn't drunk. Shit. Maybe this was a prank? Gaara wished it was anything but the 'real' thing.

Suddenly, Gaara felt something vibrate in his pocket. The man noticed as well and dipped his hand into the pocket to extract Gaara's phone.

The man held the phone up to Gaara so he could see the caller I.D. It was Sasori. While the phone was in front of his face, he saw the time was barely past two in the morning. No one was awake. Unless they were insomniacs like himself or getting up for their job.

The man casually accepted the call and put it on speaker. The screen lit up and Gaara could see the man had whisker-like marks on his cheeks. He had tousled blonde hair and bright blue eyes, with unblemished, tan skin. He looked so eerie in the blue glow his phone offered; the man's eyes sparkled in an unnatural way that made him cringe. They glimmered with a sort of intent…

Was this… Naruto Uzumaki?

"Gaara? Sorry to call you this early, but are you still there at the parlor?" Sasori's voice came out from the speaker, breaking Gaara's chain of thoughts. He sounded sincere and tired himself. His cousin knew that he was an insomniac, and had been reminded many times that it was alright to call him, because basically, it was almost impossible to sleep. If Gaara ever escaped his current predicament, he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep ever again.

The man grinned at him, offering him the phone nonchalantly. "Answer your call, Gaara."

Gaara was truly panicking now. He had no option to choose from. If he answered wrong, this man who could be Naruto Uzumaki, would… would… 'Holy shit, I'm going to die.' He took a deep breath. "Y-yeah."

"Oh good." Sasori's voice was now laced with relief. "Did you lock the doors, you know, just in case Uzumaki gets in?" Here, it sounded lightly amused. To Gaara now, it was anything but.

"Uh…yes…"

"Are you… okay?"

The man pressed harder onto his foot, making Gaara wince and bite back a cry of pain. "It's just really c-cold, the heater broke down."

"Oh. I thought we'd lost the remote to the heater. Hmm. Stay warm, okay? See you next week, little cuz'. You better be back at your place when I check up tomorrow"

"Yeah, o-okay."

Sasori hung up and the phone dimmed. The man dropped the phone into the opposite pocket on the coat. "You're a very good liar, Gaara."

Gaara remained silent as Uzumaki fished into his own pocket and pulled out the cleaver. It flashed in the meager light, winking dangerously as it came into contact with his cheek. The cold metal tickled as Gaara held his breath as Uzumaki stared into his eyes. "Don't move too much," Uzumaki warned. "I don't want to ruin your pretty face."

"P-please..."

Uzumaki tilted his head thoughtfully as if he was considering Gaara's plea for him to stop. The man's mouth was twisted into a half-smirk that didn't reach his eyes. But the cleaver lay still against his cheek; just the contact made the redhead freeze up completely.

'Oh God, why… why did I…' Gaara could feel something squeeze his chest, making it harder for him to breathe. He felt the first tears begin to slip as the cleaver press into his cheek, drawing blood and terrifying pain.

Uzumaki smiled sadly as he pressed the cleaver deeper into the redhead's cheek, and this time, it stung as the cool air whistled past. Gaara would have knocked away the blonde's arm, would have swiped the red fluid off his cheek, would have muttered a curse and stalked off, but the serial killer was too intimidating to push away. Besides, he was armed with a cleaver.

Gaara had to act. Uzumaki was going to kill him. The cuts he left on all his victims had been the same, like a signature: three whisker-like cuts on each cheek.

It seemed Uzumaki could read his mind, because he was suddenly spun around and had the cleaver held to his throat. "Why don't we add one here? At least we can cover your neck." Gaara's breath hitched when he pressed his lips to his ear and whispered the same words from before, but this time making his blood run cold. "I don't want to ruin your pretty face."

'Shit, I'm going to get fucking murdered.' The redhead panicked and shifted his eyes; he swept over his current location to see if there were any possible escape routes. That was when Gaara noticed he was spun to face the street and that Uzumaki had gotten off his foot and that his wrists were free. He confirmed it by feeling Uzumaki nudge his leg with his knee, and the grip around his wrists were gone, not to mention they weren't all stingy anymore. The murderer even lowered the cleaver. It was like an invitation.

Gaara quickly elbowed Uzumaki in the gut and took off running. Maybe it was actually unintentional, for Uzumaki quickly recovered and grabbed on to Gaara's coat. With no choice left, he shrugged off the coat and tore out onto the streets.

The rain was just letting up and he could see his apartment block was just across the street. With no traffic, he bolted straight to the doors (the receptionist wasn't there) and ran up the stairs as fast as he could to his room. 'They… have to fix that fucking elevator…' He mentally snarled as he almost missed a step.

'Shit.' His apartment keys were in his coat pocket. But when he tried the handle, it was unlocked. Thanking whoever was up there for looking out for him, he quickly opened the door and slammed it shut. Jamming the knob with a chair, he rushed to the bathroom to see the damage.

There was no mark on his neck, thank God, but there was one on his cheek. A straight, precise one that was still slightly bleeding. Gaara gave a big sigh of relief that that was all there was, and wiped away his tears and the blood with a shaking hand. He hissed when the water washed over the wound and quickly dried his face with the small towel; small drops of blood staining the once white cloth.

'Fuck… fucking hell… oh my God… fuck…' The redhead cursed as he collapsed on the bathroom floor, breathing hard and at an alarmingly quick pace. He would have call the police if he could, but the only phone he owned was the one Uzumaki probably had now. Hell, he would have called the army or navy, but obviously he didn't have their numbers. And it wasn't like he originally had many people's numbers; besides, he wasn't very good at remembering the complicated sequence of digits that the person would recite in a monotone that made him tune out.

Finally getting himself together, Gaara slowly stood up, only to walk to the living room and collapse on the couch. He couldn't get those eyes out of his head. They were bluer than any blue he had seen in his life, and they had a sort of knowing look, and at the same time, they were clouded with…

Gaara shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to think of anything except Uzumaki… If that was Uzumaki. This was when Gaara frowned and opened his eyes again. The man couldn't have been Uzumaki, the police hadn't said anything about Uzumaki being here, in the city… but the police weren't exactly the most reliable people now, when they had failed to catch the blonde man for let's see… four years now. The news reporter had said Uzumaki was found out when he was nineteen, after nine months being in the police force. So Uzumaki was out and around for four years now, with no records of leaving the country, let alone the city. 'I bet that I'll be dead before the police can reach me.' Gaara thought sullenly as he brushed his fringe out of his eyes and decided to get some fresh air from the window.

At least the window was safe. It wasn't like Uzumaki was Spiderman, and could scale the wall up to the third floor. At this Gaara snorted and unlatched the opening, quietly pulling it up so he wouldn't alert Uzumaki, just in case the murderer was anywhere around and could climb up near vertical walls.

Gaara almost smiled at the thought of Uzumaki dressed up as Spiderman and climbing up into his room and killing him. He scowled when his imagination took control and splattered imaginary blood all over the place. Rolling his eyes, Gaara tentatively stuck his head out, and drew it in triple the speed when he saw… him… outside. Unfortunately, being caught that unawares, he also managed to bash his head against the glass on the way in, and gave a loud "Fuck!" which no doubt alerted Uzumaki where he was. The redhead swore again, quieter this time, and slammed the window shut.

Gaara quickly turned away from the window and pulled the curtains over them. Reviewing the previous minutes, Gaara became confused. It couldn't be Uzumaki… right? As if the man would stay right in the open, where anyone could see him, but then Gaara remembered that there wasn't a living soul outside from before, so… 'Fuuuuhhh, I can't… ugh… dammit!' He shook his head and decided taking a shower would help him calm down his nerves and pounding head.

Once he was done, he threw his clothes in the hamper and got dressed for bed. Even in his own bed he didn't feel safe. Maybe I should sleep with a knife… just in case. One side of his conscience said. And accidently impale myself if I turn in my sleep? Yeah, GREAT idea. The other side commented sarcastically.

In the end, Gaara just lay in bed unable to sleep, or move, or do anything. Lying there until morning came, the redhead inwardly laughed at his previous thoughts on if he ever lived from the traumatic experience, he wouldn't sleep again. 'Look at that, I became a psychic.' The small bump on his head was throbbing painfully now, and he felt almost nauseas. Deciding it wasn't anything serious- he wasn't vomiting blood or anything-, and slowly pushed himself out of bed to get changed and make some coffee, only to realize that there was none left, including food.

'Fucking fantastic.' He mentally snarled, slamming the cupboard doors as a replacement of screaming in anger out loud. Controlling himself, he sighed and rubbed the lump on his head. 'Note to self, don't ever look out that window again.' Eventually, the redhead calmed down and settled on the fact he would have to buy breakfast at the coffee shop across the road. Where the alleyway was. 'Holy shit. What if…?'

He was interrupted by a knock on his door. 'Shit! It's Uzumaki…' Gaara panicked and unconsciously backed away from the door, then deciding that Uzumaki probably wouldn't be polite enough to knock on his door and wait patiently without breaking it down, he opened it slightly. He instantly regretted it as he felt heart thud to the ground. He froze and stared back at the bright blue eyes. "…Please… don't kill me…"

The blonde chuckled and pushed the door open but was stopped by Gaara throwing his entire weight against it. Uzumaki managed to jam his foot into the gap and stop the door from completely closing. "Let me in, Gaara." He said playfully.

Gaara's breathing sped up and he felt the sweat accumulating in his palms. Through the gap, he could something draped over the blonde's arm.

His coat. The one he had discarded when he was Uzumaki, just a few hours ago. He noted his phone was still in the opposite pocket Uzumaki had dropped it in.

"You left this behind, Gaara." Uzumaki said, offering the coat, but held it in a way that required Gaara to reach through the gap to get it.

Gaara stared apprehensively through the gap and opened the door a bit more to quickly grab it. Once his fingers closed around the material, he pulled it towards him, flinching when Uzumaki's fingers brushed his wrists. He awkwardly glanced at the killer through the opening. "…Would…you like to come…inside?" Why had he said that? 'Damn you, common courtesy.' He mentally swore to whoever had invented manners.

The blonde smiled pleasantly and nodded. "Certainly, thank you very much."

Gaara moved away from the door and let the murderer into his apartment, careful to stay at least five feet away from him, just in case. It was too late now, and considering that Uzumaki didn't move away from the door, meaning he was trapped until the blonde decided to leave.

"Are you alright? You seem rather pale." Uzumaki stated, breaking the silence. He titled his head and met his eyes with his own pair of piercing blue ones.

The redhead was breathing heavily as he backed away and nodded frantically. "Y-yes, I'm fine!" He barked and pressed himself to the wall, wishing for it to swallow him up and spit him back outside the apartment. He wouldn't mind if he ended up in the ocean, anywhere that was anywhere away from Uzumaki would be fine.

Gaara watched the blonde frown before turning away and sitting down on the couch, wincing as he pulled the remote control from under his legs. Uzumaki turned his head, motioning at the T.V with the remote. "May I?"

With frantic nods, Gaara shuffled as quietly as he could to the door. He had never noticed until now, how small his apartment was, and how close the couch was to the door. Uzumaki could simply just turn around and kill him, just like that, if he wanted to. Gaara frowned and shifted his hand on to the doorknob as he glared at the back of the blonde's head. Uzumaki had now switched the T.V on and was watching the news with apparent interest. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was the rerun of the Uzumaki news report thing. Again. Gaara flicked his eyes off the T.V and back onto the blonde. How would he react on hearing about himself on the news? Frowning, Gaara thought about it: surely the murderer had access to a T.V?

"-Uzumaki to kill them." It was the same reporter, sawing the same words with the same expression. "We only know his name. Mysteriously, all past records of him have been destroyed or missing." She stated, as the same supposed picture of Uzumaki appeared next to her. "Police say that he may be travelling under an unknown alias, but they are certain Uzumaki whisker-like markings on his face, that may be tattoos. He is armed with a cleaver. Make sure if you see someone who matches the descri-"

Gaara frowned when Uzumaki switched the T.V off and with a casual flick of the remote, yawned and stretched like a household cat. If memory served him correctly, Uzumaki had switched it off just before they showed some gruesome images of his victims. The woman would have them informed viewers that Uzumaki's victims had the trademark whisker marking on their cheeks. Was it guilt? Gaara reluctantly moved away from the door to try and see the look on the blonde's face. Damn him and his nosiness.

Uzumaki must have heard him move and turned around to motion him over. He patted the space next to him on the couch and smiled when he walked slowly away from the door. Gaara hesitantly sat down, because, to be honest, he was too scared to say no. He flinched and let out a barely audible yelp when Uzumaki moved his hand to feel his forehead.

"You're hot." The blonde stated, frowning. His hand trailed down to feel against Gaara's neck, causing him to freeze up and will himself to not swat the hand away. Fortunately, Uzumaki's hand then dropped away and stayed a safe distance away from his neck. Why did he have the feeling Uzumaki was going to strangle him?

"I-it's nothing…" Gaara replied as steadily as he could. He didn't need Uzumaki feeling 'sorry' for him and deciding to stay to 'take care' of him until he felt better.

Uzumaki's frown deepened, but said nothing. Instead, he looked him in the eye and gave a soft smile. "So Gaara, how have you been?"

It was Gaara's turn to frown. Why was he talking to him as if he was… a friend? The last time he checked, he was certain that he was not friends with a psychopathic murderous blonde, especially not this blonde. Deciding that remaining silent would possibly cause the blonde to murder him and mutilate his body, Gaara licked his drying lips and steadied his shaking hands as well as he could. "F-fine."

The blonde tilted his head. "I see." He said it lightly, but Gaara could hear the displeasure deep in his voice; obviously that was not the answer he wanted to hear.

"I, um, work with Sasori at the funeral parlor now…" the redhead said quickly. Hopefully, that would be enough to distract Uzumaki from whatever he wanted from him.

"By the police station?" Uzumaki asked, seemingly interested.

Gaara nodded and found he was quietly stuttering about his job in the funeral parlor. The odd thing was that Uzumaki was actually and genuinely interested about this. Gaara mentally scoffed when he realised that was probably because the crazy murderer's victims were there.

"Are you sure you're okay?" the blonde questioned, getting off the couch to wander into the kitchen. "I'll make you some tea so you'll feel better. If it's a cold, you need to stay warm." He called from the kitchen.

Gaara heard tinkling and a rustling sound before the sound of the kettle being filled. So Uzumaki was making him…tea? He would have protested, but he didn't want the blonde killing him or anything. Now that he wasn't in his line of sight, Gaara began to reflect on it, as silently as he could, because frankly, he was sure if he made a noise, Uzumaki would come barreling out of the kitchen wielding a cleaver and a scary smile plastered across his face. But at the same time, the man in his kitchen didn't seem like Uzumaki. It could just be someone from the funeral parlor that he forgot about. Maybe it was one of the grieving family members. Maybe? He bloody hoped it was.

His thoughts were scattered when the harsh sound of a whistling kettle pierced the comfortable quiet. Gaara flinched out of his frozen state and waited as patiently as he could for Uzumaki. He had a feeling that if he jumped off the couch and ran for the door, he was going to find the infamous famous cleaver sinking into his back.

The blonde walked back into the living room with a cup of tea in his hands. His balance was perfect; it seemed as if the tea didn't even move in the cup as Uzumaki made his way towards him. The unnatural stillness made Gaara question if he was really just dreaming the whole thing. Wanting desperately to test the idea by slapping Uzumaki away, but being afraid that it in fact was not a dream, he stayed still and watched the blonde with his eyes.

"Here you go." Uzumaki said, pressing the warm cup into his hands. He sat down next to him as Gaara stared apprehensively at the cup. It looked like normal tea. As normal as tea could get. Which, in the majority of cases, would be very normal.

Gaara hesitantly raised the cup to his lips and took a small, cautious sip before setting the cup back on the saucer and delicately placing it on to the coffee table. Too worried about Uzumaki killing him, Gaara did not taste how odd the tea was in reality; the extra flavor was barely there, and would have needed full attention to be noticed.

The blonde watched him intently, as if waiting for something to happen. Gaara frowned and reached to take another sip of tea. It tasted a bit funny now, but he didn't think too much of it. Only when did he realize that he did not have any tea in his apartment, let alone any sort of consumables, did the redhead become slightly suspicious. He was certain that his cupboards held nothing but dust now, so Uzumaki himself must have brought the tea bags himself. Gaara blinked and returned the cup to the saucer. Why was he staring at him like that? Did he have something on his face? He was starting to feel extremely self-conscious now, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, just in case he in fact did have something there.

As his arm began to drop back to his lap, Gaara felt a wave of dizziness overcome him, and he frowned and leaned back into the couch. His head pounded and the room seemed to get smaller and hotter. The shadows in the corner pulsed and crawled out, eating at the walls. It was getting darker and darker, while his breathing became slow, labored, like an old man's.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw the blonde smirk before the world went into the abyss.

Chapter Two: Complete!

How was it? I had to change it, because it was kinda short, so here's your extended version.

For all you people out there who haven't read my previous horrible unedited chapters, I've changed the plot so there would be more drama. Because people remember drama. Proven fact and all. You new guys haven't missed too much, I'm considering keeping Chapter Seven about the same, but that doesn't mean that I've given you an invitation to flounce over to the chapter and read ahead. It will confuse you. Greatly.

PM me your comments?