[Log] If You Can Mend It, You Can Break It [Part 3 of 4 ] BACKDATED

[rose_confection]

Characters: Gaara and Sakura
Date: Late June 30th
Location: Streets of Celo, Sakura's apartment
Warnings/Notes: PG-13; Violence, language, blood, Gaara's general creepiness
Summary: A simple stroll home after a busy day at work goes terribly awry.

Her steady gaze remained focused on the stained baseboard, not moving when she felt him shift off of her but not making any effort to hide the relieved sigh as a little bit of distance was once again placed between them.  The rhythmic clicking of his knife was what did pull her attention from the non-threatening wall, her eyes focused solely on the smooth movement of the weapon and the hand that wielded it.  The agile fingers that had wrapped themselves around her throat, that had defended her this evening, hurled her into walls and had brushed against her skin so tenderly while he was torn between opposing blood lusts, moving in tandem in an almost unnatural grace.

Perhaps if they had only been maneuvering a pencil or something equally as innocent, she could have remained silent.  Instead she found herself reaching over to close her hand over his to stall the movement, the reappearance of the knife causing her heart to beat a little faster then she would prefer.

"You were supposed to keep that put away where I couldn't see it, remember?.  That mess is nerve wracking."  She was proud of herself for keeping her voice steady, at least belying some sort of calm in this whole maelstrom that had tipped her world off it's axis.  Moving slowly so as to not make any sudden movements that would have her down and on her back again, Sakura pushed herself off the floor and headed off to her bedroom, not even realizing she was doing his bidding without question.

But it didn't stop her from toying with the idea of slamming her bedroom door shut and shoving her dresser in front of it.

He tensed the slightest bit when her hand moved to cover his own. Shaking, he quelled the sudden, intense urge to jerk back and stab her in the side. It was a natural reaction, something he had to actually concentrate to keep from doing. It was so much easier to attack a person, than suffer through something unpleasant. Her touch was definitely unpleasant. Unnerving, distracting... such shuddering warmth was not something he could afford to feel. Fortunately, she moved of her own accord before he could growl at her to take her hand off of him.

Gaara tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly as he watched with a sort of detached amusement when she started to make her way towards what appeared to be her bedroom. Odd, how she would listen to his commands so much more easily when she was quite obviously distracted with other thoughts. Maybe he should distract her more often?

Lifting up from the floor himself, the red-head silently followed behind Sakura, nothing more than a ghost, or a shadow, to her own form. Without any sort of hesitance on his part, he slid easily through her door, leaning up against the wall. His arms were crossed, knife still held firmly within his fisted hand, as his black-rimmed eyes skimmed around the room curiously.

Her mind focused on finding some warm dry clothing and the irritating sting at her hip, Sakura didn't even realize that she was being followed, she just mindlessly riffled through her dresser drawers, pulling out various articles of clothing that would be needed.  An old tank top that had seen far better days, an old comfy pair of scrub pants that now served as pajamas and a few other odds and ends to get settled in.  She had just carefully nudged the drawer shut when something out of the corner of her eye didn't sit right with her, causing her to turn on her heel quickly.

Even though she knew something, someone else was there, the fact that he had slunk in behind her without her realizing had her hackles raising and instinctively she hurled whatever it was she had balled up in her hand, her voice rising shrilly in her irritation at being so startled.

"What have I told you about sneaking up on people like that!  And it's even worse when you're stalking me in my own bedroom!  You're not supposed to be in here!!"

And just like that, the noise had returned. It was amazing, really, the level of volume such a petite woman could reach. Blinking slowly, Gaara turned his attention from the far wall back towards the furious medic. He had been scanning her room, trying to find anything out of place, anything that hinted at a trap, and was fairly pleased to see that no such thing could be found. It unnerved him, too, in a way. Either this Sakura girl was completely innocent of the deviance of mankind, or she was so good at hiding those deviances that even he was unable to detect them.

He opened his mouth to retaliate (He hadn't been "sneaking up" on her, like she said. It wasn't his fault her attentiveness was sorely lacking.), when a pair of panties came hurtling towards him at an unnatural speed. Gaara had just enough to time duck a little bit, avoiding a direct impact to the face, but this change in position only served to make his blood red hair the new target. The fabric fell easily into his crimson locks, settling atop his head like some kind of mock crown.

Gaara was not pleased.

Gaara might not have been pleased, but as the haze of her anger cleared slightly at the familiar light blue fabric with whimsical floral decoration draped over the sharply contrasting red hair, Sakura could feel all the blood draining from her face before it returned rapidly, staining her cheeks nearly the same hue as her hair as she sputtered and fought to form a coherent statement.

But what could one possibly say in this sort of situation?

'Please Mr. Creepy Stalker with the Big Sharp Knife, might I please have back my underthings that I mistakenly threw at your head?'

Somehow Sakura didn't think that would go over very well.

It only made it that much worse with the fact that he was doing nothing to remove them from his head, a past conversation with his brother in regards to a panty fetish ringing loudly in her ears and making her flush all the brighter in the instance that the weirdo might actually be enjoying this.  That thought alone gave her enough heat to propel her over to where he stood, snatching her underwear off of his head and giving him a pink-cheeked glare in an attempt to cowl him properly.

"You need to get out of my bedroom so that I may change in private if you want to do what you intend to do."

The underwear was off before he could protest. Bright jade eyes followed her progress, and he made no move to stop her as she snatched back her personal belongings, though a primal kind of nervousness settled into the pit of his stomach. She was so close, and so very fragile, despite the anger written all across his face.

If it wasn't for that anger, he was sure he would kill her. It provided him a challenge, made her an enigma of sorts - the little mouse too proud and stubborn to run away from the hungry lion. He had threatened her enough on plenty of occasions, and yet here she remained; standing before him, her heated gaze trying to burn the indecipherable look off his face.

He weighed her words, trying to determine whether or not he should leave. In an odd way, he was her 'guest', but it felt more like he was holding her hostage in her own home. A glance towards her nightstand revealed a phone sitting almost innocently near the edge. If he left her alone, she could easily lock the door, barricade it - for someone so tiny, she was still surprisingly strong -, and call for help. Of course, he could always swing in through the window, but that would involve trailing around the building and scaling the fire escape before she laid her hands on that phone. Which, admittedly, was not physically possible, even for someone like him.

Gaara tilted his head downwards, letting his black-rimmed gaze settle across Sakura's features.

"I don't trust you." A pause. "... I won't look."

It wasn't like he hadn't seen every inch of the female anatomy a million times over, courtesy of a lazy Anko who didn't give a damn. In his eyes, there really wasn't anything to look at - they were all the same, right?

For a moment, Sakura didn't respond, she just stood there as if he had grown a second head.

...He didn't trust her and yet he expected her to trust him in not looking?

"You are out of your damned mind if you think I'm stripping with you standing in the same room," she informed him.  There was no screeching or throwing of breakable items, just a matter of fact statement where there was absolutely no room for negotiation.  She glared up at him with her jaw set and arms crossed stubbornly over her chest, waiting for him to leave and daring him to push the subject.  Despite the fact that she was tired, still soaking wet and her feet hurt from being up on them all day, Sakura wasn't going to let him win this battle.  Not when her dignity was at sake, Gaara and his paranoia be damned.

There were just a few areas where a girl shouldn't compromise.

"The sooner you get out of my room, the sooner we can get on with this."

Cold jade eyes narrowed at her proclamation, and he took a step forward, ignoring the righteous anger rolling off her in waves. His own teeth clenched together in frustration as he glared down at her defiant form. Fearlessness was admirable... to a degree. Sometimes, it was just plain annoying.

He didn't say anything at first, instead opting to let his chilling gaze weigh heavily on the medic. It was a very base tactic, but most usually effective. Subconsciously, most people shied away from an "alpha" asserting his dominance. Gaara used this tactic now, letting his eyes communicate his displeasure.

Why should she not trust him? He had no reason to lie to her, whereas she had plenty of motive to lie to him. What would lying gain, when a straight forward method would get the job done twice as quickly?

Speaking of jobs...

He scratched at his stomach absentmindedly, feeling the rough stitches catch long his fingernails through the fabric of his shirt. It would have been pleasant if he could change out of those soaking clothes, too, but there probably weren't any spare men's clothing in her apartment, and walking around naked was simply out of the question.

"You should change now..." he said, ignoring her comment. "... Before I have to help you."

Sakura bristled at the threat, her eyes darkening with yet another impending battle and not wavering in the slightest with the intensely displeased glare he had turned on her.  He should have realized by now that not everything would end in his way, and even though she'd been rather generous in giving him his victories, this wasn't going to be one of them.

"It surely wouldn't be the first time, now would it?  Though this time I can promise you'll be missing a limb if you try i-", she stopped mid-rant as the absent gesture drew her attention, something she'd offhandedly noticed him doing a couple different times since this little visit began.  Without asking for permission or any warning, Sakura reached forward to tug up his shirt to see what rash or whatever it was that he was hiding.

Gaara jerked back in an instant, slamming his back into the wall behind him, and giving the pink-haired girl an incredulous, wide-eyed look.

"That seems hypocritical," he growled offhandedly, smoothing his shirt back down, hands shaking from the sudden contact. Where her fingers had lightly traced along his skin... it burned. The effect of her presence was amazing. Intriguing enough for him to allow it to continue... but disconcerting enough to keep him on edge; to keep him guessing.

"You're the one undressing, not me," he reminded, a hint of defensiveness coloring his tone.

"Hypocritical or not, I'm the doctor here, you're not."  Sakura frowned as she closed the distance once again, setting her own set of dry clothes on a nearby nightstand for the moment as she tried to grip the edge of Gaara's shirt.  Subconsciously she tried to lower her threat, whatever threat she seemed to have that always set the redhead off at odd times, being extra careful not to spend too much time lingering for skin to skin contact.  She was a quick student after all, and not completely dense to what made him flinch away or hurl her into another wall.  Finally peeling away enough of his shirt to see the firm plane of his stomach, Sakura caught sight of her previous work and the red irritated skin surrounding the stitches, agitated by his scratching fingers.

"Why do you still have those in?  It's no surprise they're bothering you, you could have pulled those out on your own," she scolded, confused as to why Gaara hadn't seen to them earlier if they were bothering him.  Hell, he should have said something by now and she would have taken care of them-

And that's when the proverbial lightbulb clicked on and this whole wretched evening finally made sense.  Though with that enlightenment, Sakura's temper flared at all the hassle, bloodshed and mental scarring that could have been avoided had the idiot just opened his mouth and said something sooner.

Which would completely explain why she drew her fist back for a mean right hook to his gut.

He didn't flinch this time - though he came very close with every inch his shirt was dragged upwards. Gaara wasn't stupid, so he understood that she needed to see his stitches to take them out. Still, it didn't hide the slow, deep shudders which arced up his spine and racked through the tips of his fingers. It was a warm shiver, though. Not borne of coldness, and certainly not a result of misplaced fear. How could he fear someone so small? Someone so...

Pink.

A slight smirk escaped his notice, flitting across his features in the most natural of ways. In the little time he had known this girl - what, they had seen each other on a handful of coincidental run-ins? - he had begun to notice a certain pattern to her movements. She was easily angered, but when her thoughts turned towards higher causes, her one-track mind pushed away all else that was bothering her. Such concentration was nearly admirable.

Such concentration was very disconcerting, when focused entirely on him, and - more specifically -, his stomach. Gaara was just pondering the oddness of the situation when a sudden move from Sakura had his attention thrown forcibly towards the medic.

The medic who, at the moment, seemed perfectly content with trying to cause him bodily harm.

His reflexes were flawless. The swift tug and pull of his muscles felt nice - natural - as he caught the girl's fist in his own, using her own foreward momentum against her. For a second, he allowed her to continue forward as he slid out of the way, her destination heading straight towards the wall. His hand still gripped her fist, though, and with a quick, harsh tug he spun her around and tossed her carelessly towards the bed. Without missing a beat, Gaara swiftly made his way to the edge of the bed, leaning over Sakura's sprawled form to grip the waistband of her scrubs and give a harsh tug downards.

Her back was facing him, so he couldn't see her reaction when he whipped her pants clean off her form and tossed them over his shoulder without a second thought.

Well. He had warned her.

Two breaths later, and he crawled up on the bed behind her, legs straddling her waist as he bent down to capture her wrists in his hand. Gaara paused, shuddering at the feel of her clothed back rubbing against his bare stomach - his shirt was still pushed up, so his naval rubbed lightly along the top of her panties, while the rest of his stomach pressed against her shirt.

He leaned in, his nose barely brushing pink hair, his own red locks falling forward to mix their colors. Another breath, calm and collected; he whispered in her ear in a low, menacing tone, "...Are you going to cooperate now?"

The fact that she was being denied the satisfying 'thud' of her fist meeting hard muscle barely had time to register as she found herself whipped into a flurry of movement, not even having time to react until her face was buried in the quilt her grandma had made for her years ago and a strange draft being felt entirely too clearly against her now bare legs.  An enraged shriek was lost in the lovingly stitched blanket, her anger and sheer embarrassment for being exposed in such a way burning her cheeks a vibrant red.

Never in her life had she been manhandled and mistreated!

All of this abuse and debasement all centering around the miscreant currently pinning so she couldn't maim him properly, the only response Sakura could come up with was one she'd heard all too often since an unfortunate night.

"I'm going to kill you."

It took him a moment to register what she said, as his attention was completely focused on keeping the medic pinned down. Despite her protests, if Sakura was ever going to be manhandled by anyone in her life, Gaara was the best candidate for it. Perverted thoughts didn't even cross his mind - only the overwhelming feeling of touch was tainting his senses, and his mind's natural reaction told him, quite desperately, to get away. He had pinned people in a fight before, but very soon after he would either break away... or kill them. Such options weren't plausible with Sakura involved. He still needed her to take out his stitches, after all.

When he did register her words, a genuinely amused chuckle left his lips in a quick rush of breath. It ruffled her hair briefly, and for a moment Gaara thought about pulling back just a bit to give both their bodies a little more breathing room. He decided against it, though, opting for the safety of keeping her firmly pinned, over bodily comfort.

"Are you, now?" Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like they were talking down to her. Coming from Gaara, his humor seeped more towards the darker spectrum of things. He truly believed she wouldn't stand a chance against him, but those thoughts didn't occupy his mind at the moment. What did filter through in his tone was a silky kind of contentment. Her desire to kill him was almost endearing, in a way, and he let those thoughts show.

Sakura grit her teeth against the warm puff of breath that tickled her neck, just one more disturbing reminder about how little space there was between them at the moment.  There was too much to focus on and her brain was frizzling out with everything, her lack of pants, her lack of pants with this guy pinning her on her own bed, the horribly inappropriateness of it, the too hot body nearly burning her through their remaining damp clothes.  Her anger was the only thing that made sense at the moment, and it was the easiest thing to grasp, the only thing she actually had control of at the moment.

If it wasn't for that, Sakura wasn't so sure that she wouldn't be sobbing and hysterical otherwise.

"Yes.  Slowly and painfully, like you deserve," she growled, barely audible from her face being turned into the bed.  Her back arched as she squirmed, trying to tug her hands away from his hold, something, anything to get him off of her and out of this terribly awkward situation.  "Chop you up in little bitty pieces and leave you sitting on the Chairman's doorstep, just for principle's sake.  Now le'go so I can get started."

Her struggles only served to make him lower his body more, his chest flush against Sakura's back in an effort to keep her still. One hand gripped both her wrists tightly, holding them above her head so as to take away any leverage she might have tried to gain. It really was amusing, the seething hatred radiating from her smaller body, and to be in contact with such a familiar emotion made Gaara shudder. His head dipped down, cheek laying languidly along the side of her neck, lips just barely grazing her ear.

"Will I bleed much?" he growled softly, jade eyes falling half-lidded at the thought. Blood and violence was something he understood - something familiar. To hear her speak of it was... intriguing, in the very least.

A soft hiss blew between her teeth as even more weight was distributed across her back.  To be held down so easily with no room to move, burned her by sheer principal and the sound slap in her face with her own weakness - not something she liked to be reminded of in any capacity.  For a moment she stopped her struggles, trying to gather her wits and her strength, her wits moreso with the new and disconcerting pressure of his head resting so casually, so intimately.  Add in the warm pulse of breath tickling her ear lobe and Sakura couldn't help the shiver that traveled through her.

"It depends.  If you're going to enjoy it, it takes all the pleasure out of it for me," she grumbled, turning her head to the side so she could breathe better and incidentally, pressing her cheek against Gaara's forehead.  "And the bloodstains would probably raise a few eyebrows when I would try to get back my security deposit.  Without those restraints, probably.  It would be very satisfying."  The irritation slowly left her voice as she forced herself to calm down, realizing that he was feeding off her anger, leaving her tone almost conversational as her body followed suit, the tension slowing easing away.

It was odd how quickly her mood could shift. One moment, she was coiled with murderous rage, anger evident in her every breath. The next... she was relaxing against him, talking about blood and death as if it were the most conversational subject he could have possibly came up with.

Gaara tilted his head to the side, moving so that her cheek was no longer touching his forehead. It bumped along his scar - smooth flesh grazing gently against rough, raised skin -, and the sensation was just too much.

"If you kill me on the bed, you can throw the sheets out," he offered, shifting slightly so his body rested more comfortably against hers. Small shivers ran down his spine from the contact, and every fiber in his being screamed at him to get off, and to kill her. He swallowed hard, forcing the thoughts to leave his mind.

She chewed over this suggestion, ignoring the urge to ask if he'd used this tactic before for fear of the answer she'd receive.  Her ego was salved however, by the matching tremors passing through the body above her, even though it begged the question as to why Gaara was settling in and making himself comfortable when it was obvious that neither of them were all that comfortable to begin with.

At least he still had his pants on.

"You sure are making yourself right at home here, I hope you're not planning on falling asleep on me after all this mess," she grumbled, shifting slightly against his hold but not really struggling as she had been.  If he didn't release her of his own accord, the best she could hope for would be him to relax enough that she could pull away without any trouble.

And it helped her mind to continue thinking and scheming, rather then to notice how comfy this actually was and how tired she had been at the beginning of this little visit, and how much more weary she was now.

It seemed this tactic was working. Her struggles had lessened considerably, and he was sure they would stop altogether in a matter of moments if he didn't make any sudden moves. Despite Sakura's slowly relaxing body, the red-head himself remained tense, his muscles tight and ready to spring off of her at a moments notice. Yes, he was settling more comfortably against her for the sake of conserving energy.... but Gaara was not comfortable.

He paused a moment at her sleeping comment, wondering whether or not it would be beneficial to elaborate on his sleeping habits - or lack thereof - or just let the subject slide. It didn't really matter for now. His original goal of getting those damned stitches off had not been forgotten... but it had been laid aside for long enough.

"That won't happen," he answered cryptically, then fidgeted a bit when his stitches started to itch.

Gaara was faced with a dilemma.

Let the girl go... or continue to play with her. Entertainment versus comfort. He paused, considering his options.

"Could have fooled me.  Was waiting for you to start snoring any minute now, figured you'd have been worn out with all your stalking leading up to the great chase."

Her arm was beginning to cramp from being hyper-extended for so long but she was trying her best to not squirm, leaving her torn as to which of the two would be the lesser evil right now.  Or the greater evil of them all, to just give in and let Gaara do what he wanted without any more fighting, regardless of the unorthodox means he used to get to the end result.

Either way, something had to be done because neither of them were moving and there needed to be some sort of resolved outcome.  She turned her face into the bed and groaned softly, ever so torn with this dilemma.

Alright. Problem solved.

Gaara relaxed his hold on Sakura's wrists, his arm laying along the top of hers for a few moments. He breathed in - one long, shuddering breath -, then breathed out just as slowly, watching as stray strands of pink hair fluttered then settled against Sakura's neck. He paused a moment longer, letting her contemplate this newfound freedom of her arms before rolling off to the right, settling on his side and using his right arm to prop his head up so he could better see her expression.

"'The Great Chase'. That's what you're calling it, now?" He was amused, an almost genial disposition settling across his features. The aftermath of those last remaining tremors washed over his body, leaving him warm and aching for... something. He wasn't quite sure what, though, so he ignored the soft, incessant throb beating through his pulse and making his fingers itch.

The red-head glanced in her direction, bright jade eyes capturing her own, his free hand trailing downwards absently to scratch at the stitches. His shirt was still pushed up a ways, but he paid that no mind - it wasn't like the medic hadn't seen his stomach already. She had been the one to sew him up, after all.

Sakura had just been about to give, much as her ego would have hated her afterwards, when the pressure from her wrists was released, followed closely by the removal of the weight of the weight from her back.  She laid there for a few moments unmoving, almost afraid that any movement would have her pinned back into place - so when the very nearly civil comment came, she slowly turn her head towards him, the shock on her face evident.

Why that little - to have tormented the life out of her and then to lay there as if nothing had happened!?  It nearly had Sakura seeing red, but after much practice biting her tongue with a particular blond, Sakura had a pretty good hold on herself and instead just exhaled exasperatedly.

"If the shoe fits, go with it.  And stop doing that, no wonder they're all red," she scolded, reaching out briefly to smack lightly at those scratching fingers.  "Had you just opened your mouth from the beginning so much of this all could have been avoided, you know?"

He knew, but...

"Where is the fun in that?"

Gaara was fairly certain such a comment would get him smacked, but he'd already proven that he could catch her blows, and part of him wondered what she might do in response. The medic didn't seem like an idiot (Despite her obnoxiously flamboyant hair color. But, then again, who was he to talk?), but time and time again many people had proven him wrong. If she attacked him again, the red-head would simply...

Actually... Gaara wasn't exactly sure what he would do. Most people who threatened him with bodily harm were incapacitated, or killed. He'd already had his fair share of incapacitating her, so that option was out, yet he had no desire to kill her, strange as that may be.

Pausing, the insomniac stared at Sakura's fingers, wondering why his aching pulse throbbed louder when she touched him. It was noticeable enough now to where it wouldn't be wise to simply disregard it. These reactions moved beyond gut instinct... he just wasn't sure what they entailed, or how to respond to them. But such things could wait for later. He had plenty of time to torment the girl more, after all. He knew where she lived now.

Exploring fingers stopped a hairsbreadth away from the irritated skin with her green eyes snapping back up to glare at the cause of her throbbing temples.

"Fun?  Fun?!  Fun, is sitting with a good book or some other enjoyable pass-time.  Fun is not running through alleyways to be assaulted and stabbed at and groped by all sorts of weirdos and whackos."  To punctuate her words, she jabbed him in the stomach ruthlessly, a few inches to right of the cause of all of woes for the evening.  Granted it would have been far more satisfying to attack him full out, Sakura wasn't really trying to go for any sudden movements that would get this small bit of freedom taken away.

Still, she needed to be able to get up to go get a pair of scissors to snip away the sutures, she just wasn't sure how to ease away in a manner that wouldn't get her tackled back to the ground.

"If I get up am I going to get attacked?  I need to get some scissors to get those out, unless you've got a better suggestion?"  Especially with Mr. Paranoia, she wasn't sure how well it was going to go over, to go get a weapon nonetheless.

"Unless you want to hand over your knife and let me do this in your fashion, of course."

To each his own, the red-head supposed, flinching back slightly when she prodded him far too close to his wound to be comfortable. Sitting down to read a book didn't seem particularly fun to him. Sure, he did it from time when boredom clawed away at his sanity, and meditating became nearly ineffective... but he had never considered doing such a thing "fun". It was a way to pass the time. Gaara didn't find many things "fun", but he did reach a kind of intoxicating high when hunting someone. Did that count?

By the look in Sakura's eyes, he figured it probably wouldn't.

Pausing, the insomniac trailed his bright jade gaze from the tips of his fingers, upwards; running along the edge of her arm, across her neck, to settle on her own matching gaze. He chuckled at her request, shifting his body to the side before dipping his free hand into the pocket of his black fabric pants. A moment later, he pulled his hand back out, fingers gripped lazily around the handle of the knife he had been fiddling with earlier. He flicked it open, then spun it in his hand so the blade settled along his palm, and the hilt was pointed towards the girl.

"Here." Gaara smirked, offering her the knife.

Mocking her.

Sakura wondered if it would really be considered murder if she were to smother the smirking ass, instead of community service as she would like to think.

But rather then reaching for the pillow she instead reached for the knife, lifting an eyebrow and trying not to play into his torment of her.  A silent order by way of a nudge to Gaara's hip directed him to lie back so she could get this over with, even though she wrinkled her nose in hindsight.  Scissors would have been better, she should have just kept her mouth shut and hoped that she could have been allowed to get them.

"Typical male, so freaking difficult," she muttered, tugging his shirt up to a workable level before ever so carefully slicing away at the stitches she had left behind.  Sakura worked quickly, the knife barely gracing the pale skin as she worked but her fingers eased over the irritated skin, tsking over the fact that he had let it bother him as long as it did.  It was easy to focus on what she was doing, and by default, conveniently forget that she was sitting there rather indecently, at least for the moment.

Gaara leaned back without a protest, watching her every move with a caution only achievable after years of rigorous paranoia. He figured it would probably be best to go ahead and concede to her requests at the moment. For one, she had a knife in her hands, now. And, beyond that, she was stretched pretty thin at the moment. The red-head had no doubt that, were he to pull her nerves any more taut, she would actually snap and stab him when he was most vulnerable.

And vulnerable he was. Despite the fact that Gaara didn't trust the girl in the least, he felt safe enough to lower his defenses for a moment as she worked closely against him. Though his body still shuddered at the contact, he had almost grown used to the tingling sensation that filtered through every tendon and muscle in his physique. His dark jade eyes followed her every move, assured in the fact that he could stop her were she to even attempt to harm him.

He didn't bother with making a comeback to her quiet, agitated words. If he had known what was 'typically female', he might have tried, but seeing as his knowledge was lacking as far as the opposite gender was concerned, Gaara decided to keep his mouth shut and let her keep working.

Not forgetting about her own wound, of course. But he could worry about that later.

It only took a few more minutes of carefully slicing through the stitches, frowning a little when one section wouldn't release as easily as the rest from where the skin had swollen up slightly in it's irritation.  A little maneuvering with the tip of the knife and her fingernail finally coaxed it out, allowing her to quickly move through the rest with no further issue.

"It may still bother you for another day or so, but that's just until the skin takes over where the threads were before.  Just keep it clean, you can use a little bit of lotion if it seems to help, but absolutely no scratching."  Her fingers eased over the pale pink scar while she spoke, a small piece of her was pleased to see her work again turned out as it should even though in time it would fade away until nearly invisible against the rest of the pale skin.

Carefully she folded the knife closed again, handing it back with a certain air as if working with something that unorthodox was the norm and that she wasn't sitting here on her bed with the same wacko that had repeatedly threatened to kill her time and time again and who could very well turn the tables and jam that same knife into any of the critical areas that would have her pushing up daisies.

Her hands were graceful. The thought filtered through his head for a moment, but was gone the next; almost as light and fleeting as her gentle touches. Gaara was used to pain, used to fending for himself, so having his own personal medic to tend to his wounds was definitely a new experience. Briefly, he remembered venturing into the same hospital Sakura worked at, a little over a year ago, and dealing with another far more intimidating female medic. He didn't remember the woman's name, but that didn't really matter at the moment.

What mattered was the woman - girl - beside him.

On the bed.

Half naked.

The implications, unfortunately, didn't breech the red-head's psyche. He could only focus on the fact that her outer thigh was pressed flush against his hip, and he was getting rather uncomfortable from the touch.

Sitting bolt upright, Gaara tilted his head in Sakura's direction, his mouth only an inch away from her cheek. They were on the same level now, facing each other, though they were still sitting beside each other. Gaara's arms were straightened behind him, supporting his weight as he glanced down at his wound.

He had the odd urge to say, 'Thank you', but resisted, instead opting to watch the medic curiously.

He wondered, offhandedly, when she would notice she wasn't wearing any pants.